Winona Dimeo-Ediger

I regularly call upon personal saints for help. Really specific ones whose sainthood only exists in my own mind, but they’re very effective. Today I’d like to introduce you to a few of them; feel free to call on them as often as needed.

Career-wise, you’re the boss, or, if you’re not the boss yet (emphasis on YET), you’re the boss’s dream, going above and beyond in every way. You tend to define yourself by your job title, and the thought of letting go of that identity gives you hives (this might be something you want to work on, Group A). Your desk is so beautifully organized it could be part of a MOMA exhibit called, “The Artful Workspace: A Retrospective.”

Justin: I know you know that I made those mistakes maybe once or twice. Me: Once or twice? Really, Justin? Justin: And by once or twice I mean maybe a couple a hundred times. Me: Right. Now we’re on the same page.

I’d been so busy patting myself on the back for conquering my big fears, I failed to acknowledge that the types of things that scare me had shifted. A lot of the obvious stuff didn’t bother me anymore — but what about all the smaller, more personal things that still scared the living shit out of me?

There is no law that says only certain body types are allowed to wear certain styles of clothing. Nothing terrible is going to happen to you if you opt for a pair of flare jeans that make your thighs look bigger or a maxi dress that visually shortens your already short frame. You will still be gorgeous and unique and worthy of love and respect.

Dear Winona,

Obviously I’m not talking about serious travel disasters or any situation that’s dangerous or harmful, but things like missing a bus, getting hopelessly lost, or having an emotional breakdown while in line for the London Eye (been there, done that) are actually blessings in disguis

3. When you can’t see the end point, just keep going. About halfway into my blanket, I fell into this weird crocheting vortex where no matter how many new stitches I made, my blanket always looked exactly the same size. It felt like I was crocheting into a void. I got super frustrated and almost gave up multiple times, but instead, I just kept stitching.

With the country spiraling deeper into a fascist hellscape on a daily basis, it’s hard to keep track of all the things to be outraged abo

Listen, we all have "bills" to pay and "jobs" to do and "families" to spend quality time with, but I'm going to tell you something right now and I