I was in elementary school when I’d first learned about vegetarianism. One of my childhood best friends, a half-Hispanic, half-Hmong girl with gloriously thick black hair and already such an individuality to her, said kindly about meat one day, “I don’t eat that shit. I’m vegetarian!”

Whenever I think about the self-help genre, my gut sinks a bit. It’s when I see the hundredth book about getting more out of the same 24 hours Bill Gates and Elon Musk have that I start to wonder: What does it mean to help yourself these days?

From ages 18 to 21, I worked at the popular (and ethically questionable) women’s retailer, Free People. Free People is every twenty-year-old white girl’s bohemian bliss. From its trademark patchwork fitting room curtains to its turquoise stacking rings…

I was first introduced to Marcus Aurelius and Stoic philosophy probably in 2018-2019. My fiancé, Chad, had become more and more committed to mindfulness, meditation, and to learning about Stoicism. He had started meditating daily and would read a passage from The Daily Stoic before bed every night.

It’s 2013. You’re at a beach party getting passed a Corona; you’re fingering through a rack at Forever21; you’re waiting in line at a Ralph’s. Three rhythmic bumps of bass play somewhere in the abyss and immediately, you know what it is.