“Popular culture would have us believe that grief and winter go hand in hand — The icy temperatures! Overstuffed black parkas! A nonstop stream of junk food from Halloween through Valentine’s Day! — but that Spring is a time for cleansing, renewal, and tiptoeing beyond the darkness of our living rooms. To which I say: Why not have both? You can have your grief and Springtime, too. Bright hues, pastel flowers, loudly sobbing in public bathroom stalls: there’s room for all! ”

“ When instructed to bring something from nature that reminded them of their daughters for a daddy-daughter Brownies meeting, every single other dad brought a pretty flower and recited a trope about his daughter’s beauty. My dad brought a portable fan and likened me to an uncontainable wind.”

“My uncle had his cats. To the best of my knowledge, he never had a lover. When my grandma was alive she checked on him daily. It was her mission to make sure he was okay. This was another thing I learned at the retirement center: even those who spent most of their lives with a partner by their side end up spending their final days alone.”

“Somehow, I thought I could fake my way through Hawaii. I thought I could wear boy shorts and pretend I don’t hate my butt. (Is it possible to look at that much cellulite and not feel failure?) I thought I could put on a sundress and pretend not to be bothered by my stretch marks, the result of years spent not eating enough and then eating too much, of depriving myself in public and then going home and eating everything in sight.”

“I try to present myself the same in-person as I do on my profile: quirky and charming and a little aloof. As if this tells my whole story. As if comparing myself to a Zooey Deschanel character is all that’s needed to encapsulate who I am: cupcakes and dresses with boots and awkward asides. This is how I’m supposed to present myself. Telling the truth—about my insomnia and depression and inability to feel normal—would be ridiculous.”