Jeanne Joe Perrone

When I was in third grade, my parents got divorced. My mom went back to school full-time in the hopes of beginning a new career that would support us. Oddly, this was one of the richest years of my life; my world split and shifted on its axis, and yet somehow didn’t knock me over — thanks to a SHEro (or two).

I was drowning in stuff, and felt constantly tired — even though I’d made an art out of trading in my old clothes at secondhand stores, minimizing expenses, and sharing apartments with strangers. Something felt fiscally oppressive despite the fact that I’ve never owned a house, a car, or anything larger than my bed.

If you’ve been watching from the sidelines and feeling helplessness or rage as the news surrounding Syrian refugees continues to complicate, consider taking action.

Part of the problem with defining yourself in negatives (i.e. not religious) is that it’s hard to pinpoint what you actually do stand for.

I have been robbed of my dreams for more than 15 years by insomnia, an unpredictable bully playing tricks with my mind and body like a dog with its chew toys. I am given weeks or months of normal sleep, only to be blown back to sleeplessness like a sudden wind. An estimated 30-35% of adults will grapple with this particular sleep disorder at one point in their lives — and 10% will deal with insomnia chronically.