Spring is full of ceremonies. But the real transition isn't the one on stage—it's the quiet one after: the first time someone who's always had a built-in community suddenly doesn't. No more dining hall with familiar faces. No more friends two doors down. Just a job search, an apartment, and the slow work of building a life from scratch. That's not just true for recent graduates. It's true for anyone who's ever moved to a new city, gone through a breakup, retired, or realized that adult friendships don't just happen anymore.

A few weeks ago I wrote an article from the edge of a desert. I was about to head into Death Valley, hoping to see wildflowers bloom. I’d been thinking a lot about dreams, about how our unconscious mind is really on our side, and how trauma can push the truth of who we are underground—like a seed, just waiting for rain.

A few weeks ago I attended a conference on dreams. The approach was Jungian. It shifted how I understand trauma. In EMDR therapy we talk about negative cognitions. These are beliefs your psyche forms after pain or trauma. They almost always fall into one of two categories.

I was in the middle of writing this article—a piece about my mom reuniting with her friend Evelyn—when my phone buzzed. It was a text from my own childhood best friend. The one I went to grade school with. The one I've written about before, in this very space, when I explored what it takes to "find your people again."

March is a month of transition. In many places, the snow is melting, but the ground underneath is still bare and muddy. The sun might feel warm on your face one minute, and the next, the wind has a bite to it. It’s a month that isn’t quite winter and isn’t quite spring. It’s a beautiful, messy in-between.

I’ve written a lot about 'situationships'—those confusing, undefined romantic grey areas. But there's another modern dating trap I see, one that’s even trickier: the 'imaginationship.' I didn't coin the term (it's been popping up everywhere lately), but I feel compelled to write about it because it comes up so often in my work.

We've all seen that couple. Maybe you've even been in that couple. One partner seems to command the room—maybe with their looks, their charm, their wit. The other partner is wonderful in their own right, but doesn't get that same immediate, public spotlight. From the outside, people might whisper. But on the inside, what's the real dynamic?