Mill P Writes

Imagine therapy exposing your psyche like a Sinatra tune—smooth, emotive, and occasionally accompanied by the unspeakable trumpet of a whoopee cushion. That's the vibe Sarah Jones strikes in her unexpectedly uproarious article “Why You Should Talk About Poop in Therapy.” At first glance, it’s the bathroom small talk nobody asked for, but stick around—this conversation is more enlightening than it smells. Jones recounts the universal cringe: “Many of my clients laugh uncomfortably when I ask them about their ‘poop routine’… ‘What does poop have to do with my emotions or with therapy?’” Picture someone discovering their therapist as a digestive detective—it’s like Indiana Jones with a plunger. But sink or flush, Jones dives into science over snicker: the gut-brain axis, starring the Enteric Nervous System—a neural brunch of over “100 million nerve cells” lining the intestines, chatting nonstop with your brain. Johns Hopkins even flips the script, suggesting GI irritation might actu...

I’ve always believed our brains are more like temperamental Swiss watches than blank slates—each gear and spring primed for mischief or genius depending on how it’s built. But as of July 7, 2025, Scientific American served me a fresh cup of neurological espresso: kids who flirt with cannabis, alcohol, or nicotine before they even hit fifteen often sport brain differences before they puff, sip, or spark anything. I picture it like this: while most of us wander through early adolescence thinking our brains are as blank as that fresh Word document at 2 am, these kids are walking around with mental landscapes already carved with deep folds, bulging regions—like geometric origami with more creases than a jiu-jitsu master’s gi. The study observed “preexisting enlargements in many brain regions and … larger brains overall” in kids who go on to experiment. It’s as if nature handed them a VIP pass to the addiction club—and the monkey is just waiting for its invitation. Researchers from the c...

I stumbled upon an NPR gem titled “When kindness becomes a habit, it improves our health” by Maria Godoy, which argues that simple acts—like tutoring kids or bringing soup to a neighbor—can boost both mental and physical well-being . It even references the Baltimore Experience Corps trial: older volunteers “didn’t experience declines in memory and executive function” and showed measurable increases in brain volume.   The article quotes Tara Gruenewald: “Volunteering or doing an act of kindness can distract you from some of the problems that you might be having... it may help to give you more perspective." Picture a neural TikTok: every “thank you” you receive floods your head with dopamine, oxytocin, and the smug satisfaction of knowing you’re basically evolving. Harvard’s Laura Kubzansky chimes in, noting that lowering stress from kindness may help protect your heart and brain I. n short, the brain literally gets buff from being nice. Now, let’s get personal: I’ve skewed too g...

  I’ll start with what Dr. Bhosale defines as cardiophobia: “an intense fear of heart diseases… patients often experience chest pain, palpitations, or breathlessness and immediately think it’s a sign of a serious heart problem.” His words land like a punch to the diaphragm—because who among us hasn’t felt our chest tighten in panic and thought, This is it. The end . Spoiler: More often than not, it’s hot air, not myocardial infarction. He lays out a smart prescription: “Consult a Cardiologist… Educate yourself… Practice relaxation techniques… Limit health‑related searches… Seek mental health support… Stay physically active." That checklist reads like common sense with the weight of a cardiologist’s pedigree. But commending knowledge and actually absorbing it are two different beasts. Which brings me back to my former weekends—days blurred by late‑night mirrors and lines, chasing illusions of invincibility. Each powder line whispered, “You’re special, untouchable”—until Mond...

Buy The Memory Broker Some stories simmer. Others scream. The Memory Broker did both. This one didn’t knock politely at the door of my imagination. It kicked it clean off the hinges and dragged me into the neon-soaked underworld of a future I didn’t even know I had in me. I was in the middle of writing Wishes of a Mortal Man —a quieter, more grounded project—when the idea for The Memory Broker hit like a jolt from a cracked-out data node. I tried to ignore it. I really did. But some stories don’t wait their turn. This one came armed with chrome teeth and a bad attitude, whispering things like: “What if memory could be bought and sold? What if someone stole the wrong one?” So I listened. I shelved Wishes (temporarily, I promise), picked up a pen—yes, a real one, because this all started while I was in rehab, where laptops and phones are locked away like weapons—and started writing. By hand. On paper. With caffeine, insomnia, and raw nerve fueling every scribbled line. Eventually I f...

  A Round of Applause for Politicians? Stop the Presses. It’s not every day that I find myself tipping my hat—or, more accurately, my metaphorical pen—to politicians. But hey, when the unlikely happens, you’ve got to call it out. Enter the National Council for Mental Wellbeing’s report on bipartisan support for mental health training programs. Yes, you read that correctly— bipartisan . For those unfamiliar, that’s political speak for, “We actually managed to agree on something without breaking into a food fight.” Color me shocked and mildly optimistic. According to the article, this rare act of political unity revolves around Mental Health First Aid (MHFA), a program designed to equip everyday people with the tools to recognize and respond to mental health crises. It’s basically CPR for the mind, and it’s the kind of thing we need a lot more of. “The program trains individuals to identify, understand, and respond to signs of mental illness and substance use disorders,” the articl...

  There are two types of drunks: the kind who get soft and glassy-eyed, and the kind who snarl like cornered dogs. I was both. A coin flip. Heads: I’m sobbing into the neck of a stranger, talking about childhood dreams. Tails: I’m spitting venom at people who love me, daring them to stay. I drank like I was trying to erase myself—fast and with no mercy. And for a long time, I chalked it up to being “young and wild and free.” You know, that bullshit Bukowski-lite swagger people wear like a leather jacket they’re too broke to dry clean. But the truth is, I always drank alcoholically. Even when I kept it to weekends, even when I showed up for work Monday morning with my shirt tucked in and my guilt folded neatly inside my chest pocket. I was the poster child for the Jekyll-and-Hyde drinker. You could count on me to show up, but you could never count on who would get out of the car. In 2020, the mirror finally cracked. I caught my own eyes staring back and didn’t like what they had t...

 I’ve always thought of my fitness tracker as the digital equivalent of a nagging gym buddy—chronically passive-aggressive, subtly passive when I need motivation most, and scoldingly judgmental when I bemoan my third donut of the day. But NPR’s recent deep dive has convinced me that beneath the passive-aggressive nudges and red rings lies a surprisingly compassionate therapist on my wrist. The article opens with the kind of revelation that knocks the earbuds out of your ears: “The more steps we take, the less likely we are to feel depressed,” based on a mammoth meta‑analysis in JAMA Network Open covering 33 studies and nearly 100,000 adults from ages 18 to 91 across 13 countries. That’s right—your trusty tracker isn’t just tallying your trips to the fridge; it might be squashing those low-key blues hiding in the creases of your mood. It’s like discovering your Fitbit moonlights as Freud. Here’s where the plot thickens like an overcooked stew: the magic number isn’t 10,000 steps—b...

  In the grand tapestry of cinema, alcohol flows as freely as the dialogue, painting a picture of glamour and revelry. Think James Bond with his martini—shaken, not stirred—or the clinking champagne flutes at a Gatsby-esque soiree. The media loves to show us the sparkly, seductive side of booze, as though every drink is a ticket to a better life. But behind this shimmering façade lies a different narrative—one of struggle, destruction, and the often painful road to redemption. These stories rarely make the marquee, but when they do, they’re unforgettable. As the Curzon article "25 Powerful Films About Alcoholism & Heavy Drinking" aptly puts it, “Films about alcoholism have run the gamut when it comes to their representation on the screen, from glamorous excess to the gritty, unvarnished realities of addiction.” Rare are the films that dig into the darker truths about alcohol without sensationalizing or trivializing the experience. And yet, when done right, they become a ...