Lauren, a Los Angeles yoga teacher, slipped in a lunge while teaching and injured her ankle. Because she's a practice-through-the-pain kind of yogi, she didn't even stop to assess the injury before continuing her class. When she finally got to the doctor, she discovered she would have to stay off the ankle for at least a month. For Lauren, this triggered a deep identity crisis.
I felt like a pressure cooker, he recalls. My children had never seen me like that. I wasn't myself. Lenkeit explains that, at age 47, he had just discovered by chance and in horror that his maternal grandmother, Hedwig Potthast (1912-1994) had been the lover of Heinrich Himmler, head of the SS and the Gestapo, and one of the architects of the murder of six million Jews during Adolf Hitler's Nazi regime.
The title of Brandi Carlile's latest record, , makes an encouraging first impression. What could possibly be bad about reclaiming selfhood? Isn't that a pop psychology milestone people make guest appearances on daytime talk shows to humble brag about? But Returning to Myself considers the implicit woe of its own declaration: in order to return to oneself, one must first be lost. It's a common existential crisis that worsens when pop culture primes audiences for inspiration instead of reality checks.
No Name Smurf experiences existential angst because he doesn't have his own skill or character trait that makes him stand out, leading to a revelation about his inner magic.
Fanon emphasizes that the identities of individuals shaped by colonialism require reconstruction through an internal process of liberation, not just external pressures.
Claire Adam's sophomore novel, Love Forms, transcends the boundaries of a typical debut: it’s rich in emotional depth, exploring themes of maternal loss, identity, and the haunting repercussions of past choices.