I’ve gotten a consistent eight hours of sleep the last couple of nights, and as I sit here typing at 8:47 p.m. on a Monday night, I still feel miserable. My bed is all I can think about. Being able to crawl into my soft sheets and close my eyes will certainly be the best part of my day.
What can I say about my hometown in Northern Michigan? A small village right on the harbor, with plenty of hipster-y restaurants and quaint knick-knack shops, it's the perfect spot for upper middle class families to vacation during the summer.
After trial and error with plant-based eating over the course of this year, I finally decided to ditch the dairy products I relied on and be a “real vegan.” I always imagined when I changed my diet I would have some challenges with cravings for my favorite comfort foods.
As the kid of psychoanalysts, I’m often asked whether my parents analyzed me while I was growing up. And I don’t really know the answer to that question. I used to immediately, assuredly say, “No, of course not,” thinking that there was no way my parents saw me as they saw their patients.