The Wolf Finally Frees Itself - a column by Brianna Albers

I’m notorious for despising new wheelchairs. It’s not just the discomfort. It’s the painstaking process of calibration — tweaking and experimenting and grumbling under my breath, because my head needs to be tilted a certain way, and how am I supposed to adjust to a completely different headrest? Not to…

Many, many weeks ago, I said I was going to read “Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice” by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha. In a month. Reader, I was wrong. I was busy revising my novel, so it doesn’t surprise me that reading fell to the wayside. But I also think…

Inspired by Susannah Conway, I’ve started to assign a word — yes, a single word — to the upcoming year, as a kind of landmark. Something to focus on as I go through the seasons, so I don’t lose track of what’s important to me. Your word is, in essence,…

I may have thrown a fit about genetic testing, but at the end of the day, it was easier than most things. The genetic counselor sent me the test in the mail. (I’m tired of COVID-19, but I will say I’m enjoying the ability to do pretty much everything…

The two most common words in the Albers household are probably “Hey, Google.” (That’s not strictly true. I tell my parents I love them more than I should, because I’m a sap, and my heart is notorious for bleeding everywhere. Also, Rey is the best cat in the world,…

Content warning: The following contains discussions of trauma and death. Sometimes I forget that I have, like, an actual degree in counseling. People come to me for advice, and it takes me a hot second to remember that I have, in fact, put the work in. I’m no longer an…

Once every few weeks, I’m reminded of my own mortality. A lot of folks dread their period. It’s a definitively unpleasant time between the cramps and the blood and the hormonal mood swings that evoke a hangry toddler. But it’s not the period that I dread. It’s the days —…

Can I be real for a minute? Totally honest? Maybe even a little bit of a downer? I’m disappointed. 2020 was supposed to be my year. I had all sorts of plans — tattoos and writing retreats and parties, because you only graduate with a master’s degree and turn 25…

I’m lucky in that, for the most part, I don’t have trouble falling asleep. I am, of course, perpetually exhausted, which probably plays a role, but I like to think I learned a thing or two from my months-long bout of insomnia. It was the summer of 2017. It took…

We all know the saying. It can never just sprinkle. It can never just be a gentle spring rain, with sprouting blades of grass and birds twittering about new beginnings. It’s either drought or deluge. There’s no in between. We’ve all had moments of absolute absurdity. Days when everything…