I cleaned out my purse today, and it wasn't just old receipts and lipstick.

It was a forensic deep dive into every single thought I’ve had in the last three months that I didn’t write down anywhere else, plus a rogue French fry.

My date was running 15 minutes late, which was actually perfect, because it gave me just enough time...

...to frantically clear the pile of 'clothes I tried on and rejected' from my bed and shove the three empty La Croix cans into the recycling bin, so my apartment looked effortlessly tidy instead of a pre-date war zone.

I've started to think that my planner is just a book where I write down all the things I'm pretending to have control over

I love how self-care ads always say 'take a few minutes for yourself each day'

like I can just carve out a tranquil oasis between my 3 PM meeting and 3:05 PM panic attack