For two years, I had the privilege of dating a wonderful young man. This is the letter I wrote him but never sent - redrafted with added years of hindsight (which, as we all know, is 20/20). It's about love, and remorse, and theft, and getting things totally, totally wrong.
2016 has not been my worst year. 2014 was the year that truly taught me how to deal with feeling small. Finals, heartbreak, losing family, losing myself. As I look back on these trying times, I share what I've learned about practising gratitude and keeping hope alive.
Am I crying enough? Am I crying too much? Why am I not crying at all? What ‘stage’ of grief does the model say I’m in? What am I supposed to do with all these emotions inside me?