HeyJaredConnection Over Everything
Writing saved my soul + makes me feel alive again in a new way. 2025 is about emerging - as a person, a mother, a loss mom, a wife, a chronic illness patient, and maybe most importantly - as a writer.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 9
- Latest publication
- Sep 28, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 18, 2026
Latest issues
The Place That Stayed Still (opens the original)
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For the last twenty-two years, I’ve driven by my high school occasionally. It’s not out of the way, per se, but it’s not exactly on the way to anything either. Not on the route from the city or the western suburbs to either of my parents’ homes. Not near our favorite restaurants or shopping destinations, doctors’ offices or any of the other nostalgic places that still pull me back toward where I grew up.For twenty-two years, I simply haven’t had much reason to pass it.But every once in a blue mo
I Can Still Smell the Airbags (opens the original)
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<img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="478.00824175824175" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!6hyL!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F13ce8573-3927-42f2-9505-75
Sometimes Love Lives on the Ledges We've Carved Out (opens the original)
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Someone asked me recently how I keep going.Not in the inspirational way people sometimes ask, where they’re hoping you’ll hand them a quote about resilience or finding the silver lining.They meant it literally.Like, actually, how do you keep choosing tomorrow when your body hurts this much today?The honest answer is that I don’t wake up every morning overflowing with courage. I don’t have some secret reserve of optimism tucked away that other people don’t.What I have are ledges.</
The Language My Body Speaks (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedListening to my body is hearing the groans and the whispers, begging me to crawl back beneath the covers. A few stolen naps cannot repay years of borrowed sleep. Until the pain loosens its grip, the exhaustion will always outrun me. Listening to my body means surrendering the version of me who believed she could outwork suffering. It means abandoning the checklists, the promises made to everyone else— the ones whose bodies s
The Survival Playbook That Stopped Working (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedThere was a time when “doing” saved my life. I’m not saying that metaphorically. When my body started falling apart, I learned to research. To ask better questions. To advocate louder. To find the best specialist, no matter how many tries, how many miles, how many times I had to repeat my story. To appeal the insurance denial. To read the journal article. To make the spreadsheet. To keep going. When infertility stole the fut
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