When we think of denial, it's often framed as an obstacle—something to overcome, a stage to pass through quickly on our way to "proper" healing. But what if denial serves a deeper purpose in our grieving process? What if this maligned response is actually one of our mind's most sophisticated protection mechanisms? Often times we are grieving something long before we realize it and the moment the denial lifts is the moment we ‘come to’ about what others may have been watching us act out for some time. This is why I have placed this installment near the back of the series - because for many people, denial can occur somewhere in the thick of the messy, unpredictable sea of emotions much like life itself: unpredictable and unexpected, with the fog clearing only to finally illuminate all that came before it.

Grief doesn't just follow death, it accompanies all significant losses—relationships, jobs, opportunities, health challenges, identity changes, or even losses of hopes and dreams. Among the complex emotional landscape of grief, depression stands as perhaps the most misunderstood stage. Unlike the more active stages of denial, anger, or bargaining, depression in grief represents a quieting, turning inward that's both necessary and deeply challenging.

The bargaining stage has something particularly maddening about it. One moment, you’re accepting what happened; the next, you’re crafting elaborate deals with the universe that could somehow undo the loss. It's like being caught in an eternal tug-of-war with reality. And here's the thing about grief that nobody tells you: it isn't reserved only for when someone dies. It comes for us in countless forms—when relationships end, when friendships dissolve, when one of our dreams have to be abandoned, when our identities shift, when possibilities close, when the future we imagined disappears.

When it comes to our mental health struggles, many of us have perfected the art of the dodge. We're talking about a deep-rooted pattern that keeps us haunted by the same painful themes or issues, never quite breaking free. Avoidance is the mind's automatic self-protection system. It's what happens when our brain decides, "This feeling is too scary, this memory too painful—let's go anywhere else, immediately!" And in the short term, it works brilliantly. That’s the problem.

Many of us have been taught to fear our anger. We learn early that anger invites violence or danger, that it's an emotion best suppressed or avoided. This widespread misunderstanding does us a tremendous disservice, cutting us off from one of our most potent creative resources. When anger is properly channeled, it offers extraordinary creative potential that too many of us have been conditioned to dismiss.

We often think about relationships in terms of building, growing, and nurturing. But what about when they change dramatically or end altogether? The transitions that reshape our connections with others—divorces, breakups, family estrangements, friendships that drift apart— can be among life's most painful experiences. These moments can challenge not just our emotional wellbeing but often our very identity. This is where radical acceptance becomes not just helpful, but essential.

Life is overwhelming when it seems like the world is quite literally on fire. So how do we keep our center amid the pressure cooker of climate change, social upheavals, an endless political circus, and the sheer pace of modern life? Whether its mindfulness, community, humor, or collective action, you can keep your inner flame alive without being decimated by the blaze. And if all else fails, some dark humor, a good snack, and a good cry might be just what you need.

In the swirling currents of American discourse, trans kids have become an unjustified flashpoint in debates that prioritize ideology over humanity. From headlines claiming an "epidemic of irreversible medical interventions" to rhetoric portraying supportive parents as misguided, reckless, or harmful, much of the narrative surrounding these children is riddled with misinformation. As these narratives dominate the conversation, the actual threats to trans kids' lives are dangerously overlooked – their health, safety, and well-being. It’s time to debunk the myths and focus on what truly matters: supporting them so they have an equal opportunity to thrive alongside their peers.

Recently when I was in the shower, I went to shave my legs and realized “The water is already cooling off. I missed my shaving window again, dang it!” And just like that, I had to call it. Not because I was done with my shower tasks or because my morning was marching onward but because my neurodivergent brain’s preferred notification system for showering is simply running out of hot water. Sound familiar?

Intersectionality as a concept has become more widely known in recent years. It is a vital concept in contemporary discourse on social justice, identity, and inclusivity. Yet it has not yet reached the wider field of treatment and care in mental health. Coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989, it acknowledges that individuals experience multiple layers of discrimination or privilege due to their intersecting identities, such as race, gender, sexual orientation, disability, and socioeconomic status. When applied to mental health, intersectionality offers a crucial framework for understanding how these diverse facets of identity shape individuals' well-being, how they experience the world at large, and with support and mental health care.