Jen Glantz

This is a letter to Santa, from a Jewish girl. Shalom Santa, Do you remember me? I love you, Santa, and I’m just wondering why we can’t be friends.

Give yourself a deadline and get to work to make things whole again. You’ll suddenly free up a lot of your brain power when you release mental clutter!

“Apps for anxiety,” I whispered in the middle of a panic attack, holding down the round circle button on the front of my iPhone connecting to Siri.

I smiled and walked out the door, choosing myself over a guy, choosing my business over a person who wanted me to be someone I no longer was.

Friends call — once or twice a month — to tell me that they are pregnant.I’m no longer over-the-moon happy for them; I’ve become jealous.

When I found out that my boyfriend lied to me, twice, about going to a strip club, I thought I’d have the guts to be able to handle it better than I did.

On each date, during my 14 first dates, whether good or bad, I started to realize that dating is more straightforward than it seems.

I realized, by the age of 25, that I needed to make new friends, and I needed to make them fast. Making friends as an adult is hard.

I’ll admit it; I, Jennifer Sara Glantz, have ghosted my fair share of guys in New York City. Nothing made me feel as bad as when I ghosted my therapist.

Making and breaking New Year Resolutions has become somewhat of a tradition for me. Perhaps the only one I’ve ever kept was to not take life so seriously.