The wish to understand ourselves, and perhaps to understand others as well.
Why do we give so much credence to a simple image that purports to measure something as complex as narcissism?
In a world where personality quizzes, from the “What Kind of Pizza Are You?” variety to the more established Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, are endlessly shared, this question is worth asking.
The slap came after the betrayal, but before the breakfast. I tasted blood and fear, then silence. He slept like nothing had happened. I didn’t. By dawn,…
I stood in that cold, perfect house and realized nothing about my daughter’s life was truly hers. The boxes of money, the empty rooms, the absence of…
He thought marriage meant access. To my money, my house, my future. For years I let him pretend his family’s “old money” status justified the way he…
I walked out of Margaret’s house carrying the wooden box like something fragile and holy. The truth sat heavier than any resentment I had nursed all those…
My sister Maren curled her perfectly manicured fingers around my wrist the instant I walked into the ballroom at the Blackstone Hotel in Chicago. Crystal chandeliers glittered…
He thought the scent of steak and coffee meant I’d fallen back into orbit, that my bruise could be buried under scrambled eggs and fabricated remorse. Instead,…