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.
It’s 2014. I’m months-deep into a major depressive episode. Nothing is enjoyable, not even my all-time favorite video game. I feel listless in the worst of ways. Several of my friends are playing “Dragon Age: Inquisition” (DAI), the…
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Last January, I wrote about shoes. At the time, I was gearing up to get a new wheelchair. Those who are familiar with wheelchairs will recognize this process for what it is: absolute agony. From seating to driving…
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…
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…
“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…
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,…
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,…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
