On a perfectly mundane February afternoon, my mom and I drove to downtown St. Paul, Minnesota. It’s a new ritual now that I’ve transitioned most of my care to Gillette Children’s Specialty Healthcare. Every six months or so, I spend the afternoon at their adult clinic, where I am…
The Wolf Finally Frees Itself
— Brianna Albers
Brianna Albers (she/her) is a crip-cyborg storyteller living in Minneapolis-St. Paul. She was diagnosed with spinal muscular atrophy type 2 in 1996 and lives with co-occurring physical and mental health conditions. By day she works as an advocate, bridging disability and mental health awareness to empower people to live their best lives; by night, she dabbles in imagination, and is currently writing “An Angel in the Garden,” an adult space fantasy with #OwnVoices disability representation. Find her online at briannahopealbers.com and on social media @briehalbers.
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Note: This column describes the author’s own experiences with Cymbalta (duloxetine). Not everyone will have the same response to treatment. Consult your doctor before starting or stopping a therapy. Every morning, my caregivers present me with a bouquet of drugs. What started as a measly two syringes has become a…
Note: This column was updated Jan. 29, 2026, to clarify the usage of Medicare and Medicaid. I knew things would change when my mom retired. For one thing, there was going to be a whole third person hanging around our house; for most of my life, it was just…
Every December, I write an end-of-the-year column. I try to make it inspiring, or at the very least optimistic, but sometimes I can’t even accomplish that. Last year’s wrap-up was essentially a long-winded way of me saying, “See you never, 2024, and good riddance.” For the most part, though,…
When I returned from the annual Cure SMA conference this summer, I knew something needed to change. I made a list of everything I’d been putting off, like finding a new therapist and setting up the photo shoot I’d been dreaming of for over a year. Then, in a…
You know that poem by Anne Boyer I love about holes? You fall into one, only to dig yourself out over weeks or months or years, only to fall into yet another hole, this one both different and familiar. Life, then, becomes a series of holes, some small…
As a lifelong proponent of therapy, I go through phases. Sometimes I don’t need the support. Sometimes I do, so I go through the whole rigamarole of finding a practitioner I vibe with. It’s not a fun process. I know so much about therapy that I am, in a word,…
Words always come to me when I need them. Lines by Ada Limón, Anne Boyer, and Marie Howe act as life preservers, guiding me back to my center. When life gets tough, I always find myself at the feet of Julian of Norwich. “All shall be well,” she says,…
I prefer to write columns after everything is said and done. It’s why I didn’t tell you all about my dad’s cancer until I knew he was going to be OK. I write stories for a living, so I guess it makes sense that I’m drawn to narratives with…
I turned 30 on June 29, which I suppose is why this year’s Cure SMA conference was so difficult for me. You can’t pass from one decade to another without reflecting on everything you have — or haven’t — accomplished. That type of reflection is particularly difficult when surrounded…
Certain things happen when you turn 21. You come of age. You can legally drink in every state in the U.S. And, if you have a cervix, you start getting regular screenings for cervical cancer. I didn’t know that when I turned 21. I wasn’t sexually active at the…
Note: This column was updated July 9, 2025, to correct the year the author’s mother retired from May 2024 to May 2023. I’ve been putting off this column for months, I guess in the hopes that it’d become easier to write. I didn’t want to go public until I…
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