Winona Dimeo-Ediger

Dear Sensitive Soul: Are you having a hard time right now? Me too. I think a lot of us are.

Remember this one time in savasana that the teacher had us visualize all the negative energy in our lives being squeezed out the soles of our feet like a bad vibes garlic press. Imagine my boss’ words as a brown ooze squeezing out of my feet. Imagery is gross but deeply comforting.

How does that old cliché go? “Love is not a noun, it’s a verb”? Loving your body is a verb. It’s an action — and in many ways it’s a sacred and defiant one.

I grew up way out in the country, and lying in bed at night I used to gaze out my window and think, “Maybe someday I’ll live in a cool apartment in the city where I can walk to stuff.” That was literally my big dream of far-off adulthood.

Guys, let's review some of the reasons that woman you've never met might not feel like chatting, shall we?

The thing is, we soak in these body-judging lessons from a very young age, before we even know how damaging they are. Some of the messages are implicit, like when we see a fat girl getting made fun of on the playground (or, for many of us, when we are the fat girl getting made fun of on the playground) and learn that being fat is not just wrong, it’s a punishable offense.

When it comes to hiring people, be sure to steer clear of anyone who has a customer service background and glowing recommendations. The last thing you want is a perky, friendly face to greet your customers. So predictable!

Seriously, I’m usually a “six sugars and a ton of cream” girl, but I drink Kao Jai black!

Basically, if you took a map of the world and put red pushpins wherever something terrible was happening, you’d find a millennial directly in the center, snapchatting.

I’d been so busy patting myself on the back for conquering my big fears, I failed to acknowledge that the types of things that scare me had shifted. A lot of the obvious stuff didn’t bother me anymore — but what about all the smaller, more personal things that still scared the living shit out of me?