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.”

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.

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.

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

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.”

"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."

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

“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.”

Is laughter the best medicine?

There is a lot on the Internet to read about the tragic Charleston shooting that took place late Wednesday night. Here are a few noteworthy tweets to get started with.