Jenni Berrett

At some point intellect has to make room for something bigger, for something scarier than just about anything. In order to truly learn something, you have to be vulnerable. You have to walk in and set your broken parts on the table and say, “Here, fix it. Or at least be broken with me.”

If you find yourself feeling hurt, mad, sad, etc. about the election this year, go ahead and feel it. Cry in front of your dad. Eat some queso. When it’s all said and done, feel how you need to feel. The only way to foster a healthy relationship between emotion and politics is to acknowledge that there is one in the first place, and that it probably needs fixing.

“Girls don’t masturbate, right? I don’t masturbate. Do you masturbate? Can girls masturbate? I don’t think they can — I’m pretty sure my mom doesn’t.”

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.

Is laughter the best medicine?

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

It was the night before my father’s funeral that I finally asked the tarot for help. I was incapable of imagining a future where I delivered his eulogy.

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

Last week I had a bit of a meltdown. It was not a good time. Luckily, I was able to calm myself down with one of the most beautiful pastimes to have been born out of the Internet.

More than any other unsolicited mental health advice I’ve received over the course of my life is the admonishment to “fake it till you make it.”