My throat has always been my Achilles heel. As a kid, I missed countless days of school holed up in bed with tonsils like golf balls lodged in my throat. Doctors advised that glandular problems were a "teenage phase," and like being a goth, I'd eventually grow out of it. I didn't. If anything,

Editor's note: This is one individual's story. This is not medical advice. Real talk, gang. You can’t just ignore away your Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.I tried. And failed -- gloriously, though.Yes. I know it’s tempting to sweep the constant state of fight or flight under the rug. It’s much

During the first two years of college, I swore I would never be a nanny. Because I was a journalism major, it wasn’t a résumé-builder nor did it give me any practical experience in what I considered to be “the real world.” Instead, I chose to work at other, “more professional” jobs, including

The man caught my attention. His disheveled appearance and angry outbursts made me come to the conclusion that he was either on drugs or mentally ill. He stood beside a bicycle loaded with bags and yelled at everyone who passed by. I did what I often do in situations such as these; I averted my