My first panic attack hit me in a grocery store. I was standing in the cereal aisle, perfectly fine, reaching for a box of Cheerios, when my chest suddenly.
I was 27 years old, sitting in my car in a parking lot, eating a gas station sandwich for the third time that week, and wondering if this was it.…
I was the smartest person on my team and the worst performer. Not because I couldn't do the work — I could do the work better than anyone. But because…
I bombed the most important conversation of my career on a Thursday afternoon. I was negotiating a raise with my boss — the raise I'd earned, the raise I.
My partner and I were fighting about the same thing we always fought about — who did more housework. Not the dishes specifically, though that was the surface.