That little red number blazed at me on the top right of my computer screen. I had effectively ignored the fact that it was alerting me to the reality that someone had sent me a message, but every time I logged on it relentlessly popped up. Having stared at me three days, I was torn
I am a pretty confident person. I have always been opinionated, and it doesn’t really bother me. I have always been vocal about things I am passionate about, and it is not something that I am ashamed of. I don’t embarrass all that easily (unless, of course, social awkwardness is involved, in which case I
I could feel the corners of my smile starting to quiver, and I quickly drew them up into an event bigger grin. The words my friend was speaking were fading as I turned inward, increasingly concerned that my face betrayed me as my enthusiasm appeared more and more forced. I faced my internal conflict: good
People will tell you your wedding day will be a blur. As you inch toward the end of your engagement, married couples will tell you, almost incessantly, that you won’t remember much of your wedding day. Maybe this is true for them, but it was not true for me. I remember. I remember the buzz
About two years ago I was asked to speak on the topic of female friendships for a women’s seminar. The simple question boiled up in me this overwhelming sense of undoing. It was one of those public moments where you feel as if everything you are thinking is evidenced on your face, in your posture,