I have always loved my female friendships. Growing up as the middle of two sisters prepped me in a million different ways to forge strong friendships with women. I took my high school and college friendships very seriously, they were my lifelines. I had never been burned by women, never dealt with real “mean girl” energy, and if I did, they were swiftly abandoned. I devoured every show about messy, intimate girl groups in their twenties: Sex and the City, Broad City, Girlfriends. Those stories mirrored my own friendships. It all seemed both complicated and easy, tangled and straightforward, but mostly there was a powerful intimacy only shared between women struggling to figure it all out…together.

But as the years pass, boyfriends come around, priorities change, life happens and the friendships wobble. Sometimes it is no one’s fault. More often than not, these friendships go through crises of their own. Sometimes it even got to a point where I would wonder “if I met this person today, would I still be friends with them?” The answers to that scared me.

There’s nothing like the loyalty that forms when you grow up alongside someone and witness them becoming themselves. But we have all been on the flip side of that change where it feels…off. There were two or three years where it felt like all my long-nurtured friendships were slipping away. One was dying because the boyfriend was terrible and I couldn’t listen to it anymore. Another because I was very gay and they were very religious (in the anti-gay way). Some loved being the “girl boss” climbing the corporate ladder while I thought being a cog in a machine was soul crushing. People truly grow in different directions and that’s okay. Sometimes it feels okay and other times it reminds me of that quote.. “Everything I let go of has claw marks on it.”

What I didn’t expect were the friendships that would emerge at the crossroads - ones that felt almost fated.

One of my closest friendships today began during a mutual falling-out. We both sensed that her friend group was cliquey and bizarre, and we were both very much on the outskirts. They posted their nights out on Instagram, never inviting us. I felt like I was in high school again, how had I misjudged this whole situation? Finding my friend in the rubble of that was the greatest gift and brought me back to reality. Losing my people-pleaser friend stung, but when they all unfollowed me one night I knew I was over it. It’s still one of my favorite origin stories, and my new-friend-turned-bestie and I toast to it at every happy hour.

Another friendship started as nothing more than college acquaintanceship. Social media kept us in orbit, lightly, but over the years we found ourselves rooting for each other. We both started businesses, and now we have monthly check-ins. She knows more about my life than my so-called college best friends do. The best part is that I didn’t even like her that much in college. When she texted me the other day that she is going to have the most “Steph” day i.e. seeing Renee Rapp on the same day as the Australian Women’s tennis final, my heart melted. These are the people that know me now.

And then there’s the friend I met through a Bible study…stay with me. This was before I realized I was queer, and many of my closest friends led the group. When I eventually came out, those same friends gave me the “love the sinner, hate the sin” line. It shattered me. But with all the endings of those friendships, that mutual friend in the group also was coming out as queer. We both love tennis, and years later we would go to the US Open in New York City together. We still catch up and we also gawk at how far we have come and the roundabout way we have become free from religious garbage. Happily in love with our girlfriends - no hate to be found!

I think it is important to have and maintain long-term friendships. But as we get older, our values, politics, marriages, religions, and choices become sharper, more defining. I used to grip tightly to the dream of growing up alongside my original circle…kids playing together, wine nights, shared routines. But then I realized I was queer. I realized I didn’t want kids. My imagination changed. Some friendships evolved with me; others didn’t. Now I imagine vacations with my child-free friends while still being the doting auntie to the others.

Friendship breakups, according to nearly every article online, are brutal, and I agree. They can feel as devastating, if not more, as romantic heartbreak. It’s a different kind of loss. Some losses left me disoriented, itching to text someone that no longer exists. Others ended in flames, and I don’t miss them at all. But through all of it, I’ve gained a deep sense of relief and hope: no matter what or who falls away, there will always be people in the room who see me as I am now, and love me for it.

We talk a lot these days about the word community. But what does that actually mean? Every brand now has a slogan, join the community!  As if signing up for a newsletter for a shoe brand makes us all connected. As someone whose entire mission is to create and foster real community, I get annoyed by these faux collectives that capitalize on a buzzword. When community becomes marketing language, it does not feel genuine. Because it’s not. 

The other day my therapist gave me a task: to spend more time in togetherness, wherever I could find it. The instructions were vague, which somehow made it worse. I was both vocally uninterested and quietly hopeful that something, a good feeling maybe, might come from it. 

So first, I cried for half a day…just let myself feel lonely and separate from the world. Then after I moved through that feeling, I knew I needed to seek out togetherness. On purpose. I had community, technically: friends, group chats, my mom on speed dial. But what would it mean to find small moments of unity with other people outside of my small circle? I asked my friends, because I truly didn’t know where to start. They delivered.

First, I bought tickets to the Museum of Us, a local museum in my area I’d been meaning to visit for years. I loved the name for its poetic pull, but didn’t know what to expect. Still, I figured that seeking “togetherness” inside a place literally called the Museum of Us was a good start and I wasn’t wrong. It ended up being one of the softest, most emotional experiences I’ve had recently. I took my time to read people’s stories. I nodded along. I laughed with strangers’ secrets at the PostSecret exhibit. I mourned lives lost to unjust immigration laws and racist policies. I learned that there are a lot of people that want to believe in each other, in a God, in our shared existence on this planet. I walked home swimming in strangers’ handwriting and heartbreak, feeling more connected to humanity than I had in months.

A few days later, I joined a friend to help canvass a nearby neighborhood. I was really nervous and was planning on bailing. In this climate, small talk with strangers about politics was not going to spark the togetherness I was seeking. But when I arrived, I was struck by the sight of so many people that showed up on a Sunday afternoon, unpaid, to canvass together. I got paired with a seasoned canvasser and we took to the streets. I felt like I’d stepped into an eighties TV show, idealistic, a little uncomfortable, and unexpectedly wholesome.

By the end of the day, the canvassers and I hung around to get to know each other over a couple of beers. While we were united over a common goal, we took this down time to laugh about our childhoods, swap stories about moments that changed us, and imagine the kind of world we want to build. There was so much empathy in that space. We cared, even when the issue didn’t touch us directly. I left feeling full. I cannot remember the last time I actually wanted to hang around with a bunch of men in a bar…but these guys were something else. 

Now in reference to the title, someone once said that to be in community is to be inconvenienced. And that line keeps echoing.

My team and I talk often about how to get people to show up, to really participate in building these spaces that they so openly crave. At saymore, we don’t shy away from social pressure or accountability to make it happen. That’s part of the work. It’s taking your friend to the airport at 7 a.m. It’s walking around your neighborhood hanging flyers. It’s sending that text in the group chat, “Can we get together soon?”

I grew up in a religious, fear-based household where shame and guilt were the main motivators. They work incredibly well when you are threatening eternal hell. But I realized that beyond my fear, there was an actual world out there. I could be afraid, angry, and disconnected my whole life. But I wanted to live in my reality and show up because I genuinely cared, without the promise of some arbitrary ledger sheet telling me if I was a good person or not. Caring is inconvenient. Showing up at the gathering is inconvenient. Building your community is inconvenient. But that’s the point.

At saymore, what I’ve always wanted is for people to take these conversations offline -  to build real community, not just digital connection. The internet is just the starting point, the bridge. What matters is what we do after: showing up, reaching out, organizing, gathering. And I know that's the hardest part...but we have to try. 

Let me know about a moment of unexpected togetherness you encountered this week - would love to hear more uplifting stories!

For six weekends my girlfriend and I parked ourselves at a coffee shop and planned our first big international vacation. She hadn’t left the country since high school, so her excitement was contagious. I felt eager to share my love for Europe with a significant other for the first time. This was going to be perfect!!! ....cue the narrator saying "annnd it was not going to be perfect..."

It’s interesting what looking forward to a vacation can do for the mind and spirit, over-planning, telling everyone you know you will be missing for two weeks, and the anticipation leading up to that first flight. I saw my therapist right before leaving and she noted my mood and energy seemed much better the last few weeks - what had changed? My only answer to her was that I had a vacation coming up! That was enough!

Now…I could write a whole think-piece about how “vacation” and “the escape” lead us to unrealistic, idyllic expectations, but let’s skip the over-intellectualizing. The truth is: the trip wasn’t at all what we hoped for.

First stop: Italy. Nothing like a quaint little town on the lake, tourist season dying down, and pasta and espresso as far as the eye can see. The dream! What we quickly learned was that the locals made it painfully clear we weren’t welcome. After weeks of practicing Italian, I expected at least one warm smile to my “Come stai?” We walked every inch of that place, lingering in restaurant doorways, trying not to bother anyone in the town that was already very bothered by our presence. We could not admit to ourselves that the vibes were off until, on our last night, the one kind waitress admitted to us flat-out: they don’t like visitors. Ah yes, of course, salute!

Next up: Spain. Usually one of my happiest places. We boarded what was supposed to be a six-hour train to the northern coast, only to get rerouted on a bus in sweltering September heat with no AC. It was a long day already and after sweating through our clothes for hours, we got misdirected to a random suburb while trying to find our hotel. I started frustrated-crying (of course), my partner took over, and we found our hotel eventually. Ordering room service in our robes helped a bit despite the sign over the ancient air conditioning warning us... “do not touch” …not a great sign.

But the mishaps weren't finished. To catch our 6:15 a.m. train out of the town, we were warned that cabs were “unreliable” and buses didn’t start running until 6 a.m. Translation: be ready to walk at 5 a.m. with your bags. Oh and it was supposed to rain all morning. Our cab driver did show up, but not before adding “sleepless night worrying about making the one train out a day” to our trip full of woes. 

Finally: Madrid. A real city with more food, kinder people, and sunset walks that reminded us why we were excited for vacation in the first place. Hell, we even met a few friendly faces along the way, finally! We booked a massage and shopped around the beautiful neighborhoods, releasing the stress of the last ten days. I remember when we were planning the trip, we were talking about how sad we would be at the end, imagining us not ready to leave our beautiful vacation-land! The reality was, with a martini in my hand, we counted down the hours til our flight home. 

Here’s the thing: I know I am not the only one looking for an escape these days. Whether that be via a plane ride thousands of miles away or a reality tv show I can binge for hours. The idea of escaping this extremely intense world right now is seductive, but also a luxury and a privilege I can’t really enjoy. Life doesn’t take a holiday just because you booked one. People can be really rude, trains and buses can break down, and air conditioning might not be guaranteed. Life is still going to life…and maybe that isn't the worst thing.

Even though our vacation was not the best, my relationship with my girlfriend came out stronger than ever. What we wanted was a break and some days we did get that. The reality was not what we hoped for but it gave us a new appreciation for the city we do live in, communities we are a part of back home, and the air conditioning that exists in every... single... room. 

Now if only I could muster the energy to book those Thanksgiving flights home. Sorry, Mom.

Join us for a very raw talk on how depression manifests in our lives

As I revisit our filmed depression event from months ago, I’m struck by how much of me feels the same. No matter the day, I live between highs and lows, especially as an entrepreneur running a mental health organization. I bite my nails, I take myself on walks, I eat my vegetables. I’ll have a week where I feel nothing matters and I do not understand myself. Then another week where I feel so empowered and interested in myself, my work and the incredible conversations I get to call my career. 

Three years ago, I wrote the Our Story section on saymore. To send that personal story to my tech team felt like the beginning of being open—even with strangers on the internet—about my depression.

In one section, I wrote:

“I still believe that my body is missing the air filter, the sliding screen door that helps filter thoughts and feelings before they hit me straight to the core. Every story I heard, every tender moment I experienced, every good or bad thing landed right on my chest, knocking the wind out of me every time.”

Looking back, I realize how long I’ve been circling this question - why I do this work and why I keep going personally and professionally. See below the response I got from my project manager now friend from across the world.

I am seeing friends experience depression who I never thought would. While we exist in our algorithms, our real lives gently mirror that in ways as well. I think my world is stretching into other avenues of joy, other routes of growth and room to be surprised. But I have always been somewhat depressed. And as I recognize that in myself, I do think I can recognize that in others too. So just my small perspective, this is what I am seeing and reading.

Do Antidepressants Help with Depression? My Experience

A friend recommended Lost Connections by Johann Hari, which challenges the “chemical imbalance” explanation for depression. Hari argues that lack of social connection, community, and purpose are often more central to depression than serotonin levels.

When I started antidepressants at twenty-two, they worked for me. I’ve joked that I’m a “placebo girl,” but even if that’s all it was, the relief was real. A friend of mine is starting anti-depressants for the first time and she is very worried about the side effects so she might find different results. It really is everyone’s unique experience so listen to your gut. And also… if your gut thinks you should just “grin and bear it”…maybe check into why you are fine with making your life harder when you might not have to suffer. Break the cycle!!!

Stress vs. Burnout

The word “burnout” is everywhere now. Research suggests stress often leads toward anxiety, while burnout leans more toward depression (Calm Blog). That framing makes sense: many people are tipping over from stress into burnout, especially in today’s climate.

Here’s a quick stress vs. burnout chart that highlights key differences:

This shift - from stress to burnout - may be why so many are experiencing depression who never thought they would. It IS confusing so take the time for compassion to determine what might be the best next step for #selfcare going forward. 

What Depression Looks Like: Different Experiences, Different Symptoms

As I get older, I seek out others whose depression feels like mine. Just like I wouldn’t take skincare advice from someone with a completely different skin type, or fashion advice from someone half my size, I look for people whose experiences mirror my own.

My depression doesn’t always look like the textbook definition I was taught - never getting out of bed, not showering, crying constantly. Very rarely it might, but more often it looks different. The worst days of my depression feel like a heavy dread where every sad story I hear or angry comment I read on the internet makes me feel like we are on a rotting, terrible, irredeemable planet. Other days are just completely grey, where my mind does what it does and we get by with a little sunshine and a good sweat hopefully. 

I think we do each other a disservice when we say this is what you should do, or shouldn’t do. I do think therapy helps, I do think medication can help but it is what works for you. But it’s not the same for everyone, and we should allow for that complexity and nuance.

I once said on TikTok that I wish no one else knew what depression felt like. I hate when people relate to my darkest moments. And yet, when someone can’t relate, my reflex thought is: must be nice.

As an empathetic person, I believe we’re evolving. It makes sense that sometimes we want to hide in a dark room because the noise, online and offline, is too much. It makes sense that inherited pain from past generations, especially women, still weighs on us. Against that backdrop, “seeking joy” every day feels oversimplified and unrealistic.

Soooo... Do I Still Have Depression?

Depression isn’t a one-size-fits-all condition. It doesn’t always look like the stereotypes, and it doesn’t always respond to the same treatments. It shifts over time, in different bodies, in different lives.

For me, it’s an ongoing relationship - sometimes heavy, sometimes quiet, always requiring attention. For others, it may look entirely different. What matters is making space for that range of experiences and staying curious about what works.

So maybe the better question isn’t “Do I still have depression?” but “How do I keep learning to live with it in ways that let me keep going?”