Jenni Berrett

"I had always pictured myself spending afternoons studying there. I instead found myself curled up on one of those benches at five in the morning, promising the crises hotline operator that no, I did not want to kill myself. I just didn’t know who else to call."

In the midst of struggling with being depressed, you’re also saddled with the practical realities of staying alive. It’s no easy feat.

Podcasts are a beautiful thing, but there is only so much of Ira Glass’ nasal story-telling out there.

The premise is pretty simple: We each give you one thing to watch, one thing to listen to, and one thing to read over the weekend.

Marina, if you're reading this, please be our BFF.

[CN: vomit] Having been an unfeeling, sluggish husk of a person with the nap-taking skills of an elderly sloth for the past five months or so, I have reemerged too tender for this world.

I don’t think the bar is low enough. We obviously need a way to work up to the Bechdel Test. Baby steps. And we all know women love babies.

My dad died. I only know my own grief, and even that is debatable. If you’re hoping to comfort someone who’s grieving, here are a couple of things to know.

This week includes mostly chihuahuas. You're welcome.

Is laughter the best medicine?