WRITING
“Ultimately, it didn’t matter what we called my disease. What mattered was learning to live with it.”
“If I listed all my symptoms, it would seem like I was complaining. If I boiled it down to one symptom, like migraines or fatigue, I would be underselling the severity and setting false expectations about how well I was. Without a diagnosis, I was a little kid who runs home after a day at the beach and proudly unfurls sticky fingers to reveal pebbles, broken shells, a crab’s leg, dried seaweed pods and sea glass. What are you supposed to do with that strange, incoherent display except smile limply?”
-Published by HuffPost, July 2020
This Mother's Day, all I want is for my parents to nurse me back to health in the way I used to resent.
“My mom and dad, on my small and foggy phone screen, spoke every soothing word they could find. My mom offered to come to my apartment, where Ian and I had spent three weeks coughing the virus onto every surface. ‘I can wear a mask,’ she said. ‘I can take care of you.’”
-Published on Teen Vogue, May 2020
This is what happened when my worst fears came true.
“Three months of fear that I’d get sick, and I was still unprepared when it actually happened. A good reminder that you can hope and plan, but life will still throw curveballs.”
— Published in Teen Vogue, March 2020
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