My little book that I’ve been working on for the last few months, My Heart Is An Autumn Garage, came out last week. It’s a short memoir about the breakdown I had in 2003 and my subsequent hospitalization.
Depression is the place you always come back to, and though its landscape is ugly, the colours muddied and muted, it feels strangely like home.
1. You are a bad person who deserves bad things. 2. You are unhappy because you are lazy or lacking in willpower. Happiness is a choice, a choice that you have failed to make.
1. The truth about love is that there is a part of you that honestly believes that giving away all of your love will – no, must – result in receiving some kind of equal love back.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this interview with Lisa Kudrow about the nose job she got when she was in high school.
Write because no other person who came before you or who will come after you will ever, ever be able to do it in quite the same way that you can.
Assume that you will always find a way out, even when all the doors slam shut and everything feels impossible.
Framing the issue this way for rape apologists can seem useful. I totally get that. It feels like you’re humanizing the victim and making the event more relatable, more sympathetic to the person you’re arguing with.