A personal essay about leaving a five-year emotionally abusive relationship — the morning of the escape, the drive home, and why walking out the door was only the beginning. Part one of two.

I wanted a better friend like I wanted a better mother, and although it was never my job to improve either of them, I felt the need to take on the challenge. Part two of two.

“Have you heard from Autumn lately?" I asked my sister, as we ate dinner across from each other. She sealed her lips and squinted her eyes, nonverbally signaling that I might not like what I was about to hear. (Part one of two.)

It was 2020, a year that had already taken so much from so many of us, and it was about to take one more thing from me. I didn’t know it then, but that phone call was the last time I'd ever be met with my mother’s silence.

A long-haired, brown-eyed grunge rocker boy with the cutest smile stepped out from his shift, by the adamant request of his manager. Go talk to her and I'll give you the rest of the night off...

I spent my teenage years researching ways to die and hanging out in cemeteries. My relationship with death has changed considerably since then — but not entirely.

After a night of too many drinks and an emotional outburst at a bar, I started reading into alcohol abuse and discovered that there is another kind of picture painted for the alcoholic - my "kind."

A candid confession about emotional affairs, self-deception, and the pattern of seeking self-worth from the wrong people — written before I had the language to fully understand it.

The origin story of The Candid Crook: an honest confession about self-deception, cognitive dissonance, and the lies we tell ourselves — and what happens when you finally stop running from the truth.

With determination to confirm I wasn’t crazy, I soon found myself on the floor of Barnes and Noble, picking through books in the psychology section. It was there I discovered a book that seemed to change everything…slowly, but surely.