Tara Schuster

Seeing a chiropractor because I have a bad case of carrying the friend group social calendar on my back.

tfw a bad day cannot possibly have anything to do with me

And for the lady, a spicy margarita and a news cycle that doesn’t make me want to walk into the sea.

Governments will literally spend all your taxes on bombs instead of going to therapy.

Texting my chiropractor, acupuncturist, and exorcist after reading about another man abusing his power.

Waking up every morning to car payment reminders, Strait of Hormuz updates, and LinkedIn messages asking me to train an AI to do my job.

I’ve chosen to stop insulting myself. The simple reason is that nothing good comes from it.

There’s a lot going on right now, but at least we live in a world with Amy Poehler and Prozac.

Daily reminders: wear sunscreen, drink water, scream into void, get 10k steps.

Calendar: It’s April. Me:

I hate this double life of being “good” at work and “bad” at life.

There are no big breaks. There are only a series of tiny, little breaks. The key is to work your hardest and do your best at every little break.

Me reading the news any day about anything for the past year.

Me looking at the prices of any food at any restaurant.

Me checking my bank account after a "healing era."

I have 1,304 unread emails, a scroll of unfinished tasks, and a "self-care Sunday" that's now 3 weeks old. My therapist calls it a pattern. I call it my brand.

Sorry I didn’t text back. I was busy catching up on all the crimes.

MY BOSS: How was your weekend? ME: I was dragged into the depths of despair by cascading world crises. I felt powerless, guilty, and deeply disturbed, and I began to question reality itself. MY BOSS: So… does this mean you can cover for Jen today, or no?

Maybe she’s born with it. Maybe it’s Wellbutrin.

What's your weed? What numbs the pain just enough to keep you from changing? (A story about crutches that help us survive and why we have to let them go➡️)