Elizabeth Laura Nelson

The elephant in the room is my mental illness. Do my anxiety and depression make me unworthy of love?

My anxiety doesn’t mean I can’t be a good parent. In fact, it makes me a better one.

Honesty is supposed to be the cornerstone of a healthy relationship, and lying, an automatic dealbreaker. But should it be?

No regrets about having kids? Maybe it’s time we all came clean.

As a person who writes about relationships for a living, I might be one of the people least in need of all this well-meaning advice, which usually amounts to clichés and can even veer into the territory of outright insults. What I need – what most of us need – is for people to hear me, and to trust me.

In a marriage, should you really feel lonely that much of the time? And if so, then how lonely is too lonely?

Is it better to be alone than to be in a miserable relationship?

Does chronic anxiety ever make you feel like a flake?

The problem with people pleasing: You’re trying so hard to be good. So how come you feel so bad?