It was the 90s, I had cut my long blond(ish) hair and dyed it black (a good year before My So Called Life) and had hid it for a while under a hat knowing my Mom would be less than thrilled. When she did finally see it she sighed and asked ‘why do you make yourself look ugly?’

A lot of mine is daily sort of pre-emptive strikes: daily meditation, pretty regular movement-y stuff (morning runs, or an evening dance class) a ritual of coffees out on certain days as a reward for ‘making it thru the week’; hot baths... and after big accomplishments like gradschool papers shitty tv streamed on…

When I was 18 my dad’s step dad died. He had pretty much been my grandfather my whole life, but because of him being an un-good person, and my family being a giant CF I wasn’t that torn up about it, but felt obligated to pay my respects.