Midlife

So instead of a medical lesson this week, you get pure emotion. When my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, I knew. I knew he was going to die from this horrible disease. You could tell me I was being negative. You could say I never gave him a chance. Maybe you're right.

For women who have spent decades trying to be the perfect mother, physician, partner, daughter, or friend, it can feel like we're suddenly failing at things that once came easily. But maybe we're looking at it all wrong. Maybe this stage of life isn't teaching us how to avoid mistakes. Maybe it's teaching us how to make peace with them.

Why does the brain take risks? The answer is complicated, but dopamine plays a starring role. Dopamine is often called the "feel-good" neurotransmitter, but that's only part of the story. It's released not only when we experience something pleasurable, but also when we anticipate a reward. Sometimes the possibility of joy can be just as powerful as the joy itself.

Adult friendships are hard. But you know what’s even harder? Losing the childhood friendships, you thought would survive every stage of life. And when I say childhood, I don’t mean elementary school. I mean that long stretch of time before adulthood fully settled in — before marriages, careers, children, and grief reshaped us. My twenties still felt young enough to be considered childhood in their own way. Honestly, at twenty-eight, I was still very much a kid. A couple of we

A blog about photos and what the story they tell.

Have you heard about this Tik Tok trend? (Yes. Yes. I am in the know). Mom—what were you like in the ’90s? ahem… cue Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls… and begin In the 1990s, I was: 1) Ditzy (on purpose).I had been a full-on nerd growing up—mathletes, teacher’s pet, the whole deal. But in the ’90s, being smart wasn’t exactly cool. Life goals involved being like Kelly Taylor, not Andrea Zuckerman (Thursday night 90210 viewings were quintessential ’90s dogma). Then, my sophomore year,

This past weekend, I visited my college. It was a real college visit for my youngest, and while I’ve been back to campus a handful of times since graduating nearly thirty years ago, it was the first time I was there in an official capacity: as the parent of a prospective student. As I walked the campus, I realized I wasn’t just revisiting my college years—I was imagining what I hoped my son would carry into his own, IF he decided to come here. A mother and her son stroll acro

Thanks to social media (and sometimes my children), I occasionally manage to catch onto a trend before it becomes outdated. This is not a skill I had in high school, so I consider it a midlife achievement. Yesterday I was scrolling Instagram and came across a post about a 23-year-old woman from India, Sithara Jahan. She asked her strict parents for permission to go on a girls’ trip to Kashmir—something she was absolutely sure they would say no to. And surprisingly… they said

Since being born during the bicentennial year in a small hospital in Hoboken, New Jersey, I have traveled to India eight times—five during childhood and three in adulthood. Last night, when I couldn’t sleep (jet lag, perimenopause, and a new bed), I found myself thinking about how, on each trip, I’ve seen India through a different lens. And to be honest, that realization frustrated me. In my fiftieth year of life, wasn’t I capable of seeing things consistently? Was it strange

The other day, I was absently feeling my arm when I noticed a firmness along the upper, outer side. I pressed on it. Still there. I flexed my elbow, and the firmness became even more pronounced. What was this foreign mass in my body? Cancer? Abscess? Hematoma? Nope.It was my deltoid. A vibrant pop art style illustration of a confident woman displaying her deltoid muscle, showcasing strength and elegance with bold colors and striking features. When I was in elementary school a

Tribute to my dad who died 11 years ago

How is it I can still relate to a nine year old?