Discussion of news topics with a point of view, including narratives by individuals regarding their own experiences

Impostor syndrome seems to me to be a common affliction among successful women. Even the thought of calling myself a “successful woman” makes me bristle and feel like I’ve put some kind of jinx on myself.

Although I can see, objectively, that I’ve accomplished a lot and that I’ve worked really hard to get to where I am, my stupid, fragile sense of self-esteem will not allow me to accept that. I fear that allowing myself to experience a sense of pride or accomplishment will make it all go away. I’m convinced that every job I do will be my last and soon, I’ll be found out for the talent-less fraud that I really am.

For nostalgia’s sake, I hold onto items from my past relationships. But social media changes everything.

With direct messages and texts, ghosts of relationships past aren’t so easily sorted

I used to think I needed a house and a big salary by age 30. Now that I’m about to leave my 20s behind, I have new goals.

Now, I want to find what truly makes me happy

The short winter days make me sad. Here’s how I cope.

Nothing I’ve tried is a cure-all, but I’ve found some remedies that work for me