At first I thought I was having a stroke. Then I find out this bizarre sleep disorder is more common than I ever imagined—and I finally learned how to shut it out.
When my daughter was born I had no idea I’d go from ecstasy to thoughts of cracking her head open and throwing myself out of a moving car. This dark side of motherhood needs to come out of the shadows.
They rarely talked about the tragic loss of their first child. Sixty years later, sifting through my grandfather’ s old letters helped me see their lives in a whole new light.
After struggling for years with involuntary tics and outbursts, I found my calling in a job that involves no shortage of shushing.
In Seoul, everyone from corporations to cafes is working to lower the world’s highest suicide rate.
When the contractions come and you’ve got a two-hour mountain drive to the hospital, who are you going to call?
In a new movement sweeping Facebook, Instagram and YouTube, anguished parents are sharing and bonding over their grief.
How a gruesome brush with death made me wake up to the world.
I still can’t believe he thought those words were okay. But it did help me move on…from my shrink.
I was reporting in Cairo following the Arab Spring, when I suddenly became violently ill. I’m still trying to piece together what happened next.
I was a seventeen-year-old virgin when my psychiatrist glossed over the serious side effects of antidepressants. Now I wonder if I’ll ever have a normal sex life.
Thirty Years Ago I Watched My Friend’s Father Drown. I Think About It Every Time My Children Go Near Water.
How can I let my kids enjoy the waterpark, pool or beach, when just a few seconds of fun floods my brain with PTSD?
From AIDS patients in the ’80s to the Boston Marathon bomber, Peter Stefan has built a career saving society’s undesirable dead from the fate of mass graves.
These ultra-Orthodox Jews admitted to religious taboos ranging from same-sex attraction to extramarital affairs. The treatment they received was alarmingly severe.
There’s a Mathematical Equation That Proves I’m Ugly — Or So I Learned in My Seventh Grade Art Class
It took me years to realize that despite being born with a rare facial disfigurement, beauty is more than a cold calculation.
After I was touched inappropriately as a kid, and then not touched at all for years, the right pair of well-trained hands helped me finally feel comfortable in my own skin.
As a child psychologist, I help all kinds of families diagnose and deal with autism. But the hardest thing was when I started to see signs right under my nose.