People think I’m calm. They think I’m unbothered. They think I’ve reached some level of spiritual clarity where nothing really gets to me anymore. They admire it. They call it cool. They say they wish they could live like that, untouched by chaos. I let them keep that version of me. When my tire blew out in the middle of the freeway, I didn’t panic. When a waitress burned my wrist with a hot stone dish, I didn’t pull away. When my boss told me how easily replaceable I was, I

25 years ago, I was 29, living in a shared house in Berkeley. My life was suffocating me. I had failed the MCAT exam three times in a...

Two houses. Two toothbrushes. Two kitchens. Two of everything. And yet, nothing that feels like home. When Friday night comes, I pack my...