The Wolf Finally Frees Itself
— Brianna Albers

In 2019, something wonderful happened. I got bit by the tattoo bug. If you’ve followed my column for a while, you’ll know my first tattoo was a big deal. First, it was finding an artist I vibed with. Then it was finding an accessible parlor — no mean…

As I write this, my room glows in the midafternoon sun. Sometime last year, I invested in a suncatcher, so there are rainbows everywhere — pastel sunbursts that are there, then gone. It’s unseasonably warm in Minnesota today, so the snow is melting, dripping steadily off the roof. According to…

“One thing’s for sure,” I tell my dad. “This is going to make a great column.” I’d been dreading this doctor’s appointment for days, and not just because of the hell that is commuting during the winter. The last time I was at this clinic, a neurologist questioned whether I…

When it comes to rituals, I am religious. Weekly rituals are the shortest, and consist largely of short-term planning. Monthly and quarterly rituals, on the other hand, are more reflective. Instead of updating my calendar and to-do list, I journal about my values. I revisit the goals I set…

Every Wednesday, I jump on a Zoom call with a bunch of writers and talk. Sometimes we talk about professional things, like revisions, copy edits, or writing to the market. Sometimes we talk about politics. More often than not, we talk about survival — specifically, how to survive as a…

In terms of “things I was expecting,” my mom coming down with COVID-19 was not one of them. The Albers family is notorious for doing too much at once. One of my caregivers often jokes that we’re the busiest people she knows. If we’re not renovating something, there’s a good…

It’s strange to think that a little over two years ago, I witnessed — and participated in — the conception of SMA My Way, a patient-focused community sponsored by the biotech company Genentech to support all of those affected by SMA. A lot has changed since then. I graduated…

My local clinic isn’t actually local. Boasting neighbors like IKEA and the Midwest tourist trap that is the Mall of America, my clinic is a 20-minute drive — one way. I could take the moderately more scenic route if I didn’t have a penchant for running late, but I…

The insecurity hits when I least expect it. I knew it would take me a while to adjust to post-grad life. I spent 20 years in school, eight of which were online. I didn’t have the social life people associate with college students living on campus. My life consisted of…

One might say I was giddy. Once or twice a month, I drive 20 minutes to get shot up with allergens (mold and cat dander, for the curious). So the act itself was mundane. There was nothing special about trekking across the suburbs to my clinic of choice, aka…

Three years ago, I wrote a column about anxiety and apple orchards. After a long day at an orchard with my caregiver and her daughter, I reflected on something my therapist had said to me: “Can you feel the anxiety and do it anyway?” Three years later, life looks…

I’m about to give myself credit where credit is due: I didn’t freak out for several months. I have undiagnosed, but undeniable, health anxiety. So, I was surprised by my reaction to a recall announced last June by Philips Respironics of 13 respiratory machines, including the BiPAP machine I’ve used…