The Wolf Finally Frees Itself - a column by Brianna Albers

Sometimes it feels like I’m living two separate lives. I’m very intentional when it comes to social media. My Instagram account is a carefully curated feed of Reels, cat pictures, and pastel-colored infographics. This is my cottagecore life. I wear dresses, listen to classical music, and wish I…

As I write this, my dad debates the longevity of one of my favorite dresses. I bought it used, so I don’t feel bad retiring it. But my dad is hesitant, despite the fact that he throws a fit every time I put it on. I’m purging my wardrobe, so…

As part of this column, I’ve taken to recording encounters with ignorant — if well-meaning — healthcare providers. Fortunately for me, those encounters have been few and far between. But that doesn’t make those few-and-far-between encounters any less frustrating. A few months ago, I wrote about a trip to…

Longtime readers of my column will know that I am fellow columnist Sherry Toh’s biggest fan. Navigating SMA alongside her has been one of the greatest honors of my life. This week, Sherry and I thought it would be fun to interview each other — not only…

It’s been a minute since I put my degree in counseling to good use. Let’s change that, shall we? Last week, I wrote about a recent ghost vacation. For those who didn’t read that column, here’s the gist: I came back from this year’s Cure SMA conference with a…

“Sometimes I pretend I’m dead.” This sounds like the lead-in to a particularly macabre joke. But in actuality, it’s a personal practice with the potential to revolutionize our approach to self-care. My friend Andrea Hannah calls it a “ghost vacation.” “Sometimes I pretend I’m dead,” Andrea likes to…

Three years into my collaboration with biotech company Genentech, and I still feel like a fish out of water. This is what professionals call impostor syndrome (IS), defined by Lexico as “the persistent inability to believe that one’s success is deserved or has been legitimately achieved as a…

I could tell you about Old Santa Fe, New Mexico. Cobblestone streets, framed by blooms of green. The town jail turned bookstore — a refuge from the heat, and a haven for my mom and me. St. Francis’ cathedral, with winding, tranquil gardens. I could tell you about the Painted…

For the first time in three years, I’m on the road again. By the time you read this, I’ll be a day out from Anaheim, California. This isn’t the first time my parents and I have made this trip — in 2019, we spent two weeks road-tripping across the…

My parents’ dreams revolve around the middle of nowhere. You probably think I’m joking. But the fact remains that I’m writing this column from a tiny town in Wisconsin with a population in the 800s. They’ve been nurturing this dream for as long as I can remember. Looking back, I…