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This conversation is going to stay with me for a long time. Together, Josh and I walked the fine threshold between grief and storytelling, illness and healing, and I found myself feeling lighter and more stable when we finished. In Josh’s words: You can’t treat grief with a pill. But you can treat it with a story. Last week I spoke with @Kimberly Warner, author of “Unfixed,” a memoir about family identity and chronic illness. It turns out there is no separating the two. After Kim lost her father, she took a DNA test that revealed he wasn’t her biological dad after all. But her biological father had died, too. Those revelations set a complex cascade of grief in motion. Kim was grieving the man who raised her, whom she thought of as her real father, but the DNA test upended her sense of self. And then she never had a chance to meet her biological dad. By the time she discovered that he existed at all, he was already dead. In the midst of all that stress, she began experiencing vertigo. The ground beneath her feet felt like the deck of a boat on open water. There was a name for her illness – Mal De Débarquement Syndrome – but there was no cure. Doctors are impatient with chronic illness. Because there’s no fix, there’s no chance for them to play the hero. Symptoms present physically, but they might have mental or emotional roots that no pill can touch. That’s why illness narratives matter so much. By shaping their own story, finding order in their confusion and pain, a person who suffers from chronic illness can reclaim their own identity. Instead of being the patient who “failed” to respond to treatment, they can be the storyteller who extracts meaning from suffering. I know a little about grief. Before I left academe in 2021, I lost two grandparents and a cousin. My grandfather died of natural causes in January, my grandmother died of grief in August, and my cousin had a brain hemorrhage from COVID in October. Then I left a career that I’d formerly loved. The only thing that helped during that time was storytelling. I shared memories of the people I’d lost, perhaps to convince myself that I carried them with me still. And I wrote my way through my life transition, interviewing many others about their pivots from academe to industry, trying to see where I fit in that new story. Grief breaks you in a thousand different ways. You can't put yourself back together again in quite the same shape. There’s not much medicine can do to help. But without storytelling, you might never put yourself back together at all. Thank you j.e. moyer, LPC, Sean Talbeaux, Lor, and many others for tuning into my live video with Joshua Doležal! Join me for my next live video in the app. Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe

Heather Kennedy, also known as Kathleen Kiddo, joins me for a deeply honest, funny, and tender conversation about living with Parkinson’s, invisible illness, and the strange spiritual terrain of a body that no longer behaves the way it once did. We talk about suffering as teacher, humor as survival, the pressure to make illness sound inspirational, and the quiet difference between fighting and allowing. Heather reflects on Parkinson’s as both poison and gift, on becoming a “human Rorschach blot” for other people’s fears and projections, and on what it means to live well right now, in the moment that matters. We also wander into advocacy, art, adaptation, motherhood, medicine, shame, gut health, healing, and the possibility of finding peace not after the storm, but in it. I GENUINELY LOVE THIS WOMAN. Thank you Amy Gabrielle, Nan Tepper, Eileen Dougharty, , Monica Ticknor, and many others for tuning into my live video with Kathleen Kiddo! Join me for my next live video in the app. Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe

In this episode, Kimberly Warner sits down with novelist-turned-memoirist Rachel Weaver to talk about what it really means to live inside a body that won’t cooperate—and how you keep building a life anyway. Rachel shares what it felt like to release her memoir Dizzy after years of writing fiction (“it felt like I left my diary out”), and why hearing “me too” from strangers has made the exposure worth it. Together, Kimberly and Rachel trace the brutal, invisible reality of long-term dizziness and vestibular migraine: the brain fog, the relentless appointments, the medical gaslighting, and the deep loneliness of suffering that doesn’t show up on a scan. They also explore what illness clarified rather than simply took away—especially around self-reliance, relationships, and the slow, vulnerable practice of letting other people in. Rachel talks about the rare doctor who could read subtext, see her suffering, and keep treating her even when insurance refused to pay—restoring her faith in clinicians and in care. Threaded through it all is Alaska: the wild, quiet vastness Rachel returned to in her mind when her nervous system was overloaded, and the way landscape can become a kind of medicine. She shares how she kept writing through the worst years—literally training herself to write with her eyes closed on yellow pads as an act of survival and escape. Finally, Rachel describes the metabolic migraine research that helped change her life after COVID knocked her symptoms back to square one: glucose testing, continuous glucose monitoring, and a medically supervised keto-to-carb-threshold protocol that helped move many participants from chronic to episodic migraine—bringing her own symptoms down to just a few days a month. A candid, funny, and fiercely tender conversation about illness, hope (and how it can hurt), resilience, and the surprising ways suffering can spin you—“in the most arduous of ways”—into a world of kindness. Thank you Francesca Bossert, Kaylene Johnson-Sullivan, Lor, and many others for tuning into my live video with Rachel Weaver! Join me for my next live video in the app. Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe

A tiny Wi-Fi glitch tried to take us out at the start… but we left it unfixed (obviously) and rolled right into one of the sweetest, funniest conversations. This episode of Unfixed: Uncut is with Monica Ticknor , the founder of Charter Book Club Adventures—aka the woman who casually slid into my DMs with an idea that was basically: “Want to do a virtual book club… and then end it on a freaking sailboat?” And yes, I immediately said: are you kidding me, YES! We talk about Monica’s roots as a junior high teacher and coach, the kind who made books feel like doorways and classrooms feel like circles you actually want to sit in. She shares the story that lit her up as a kid (The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle), the teachers who shaped her, and the way she now designs book clubs as immersive, personal voyages—not “read chapters 1–4 and report back,” but slow down, reflect, and let the book meet your real life. Monica walks us through her R.E.A.D. framework—Reflect, Explore, Adventure, Discover—including captain’s logs, “catching the wind” action steps, and a final-week love letter to yourself (which… yes, made me a little shivery). But why should that surprise me? Monica is an honest-to-god angel. Also: it’s my birthday in this episode, so there’s an orange Crush cake to honor my beloved Tang—who, for the record, is thriving in his new home. If you’ve ever wanted reading to feel more like belonging… welcome aboard. Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe

Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe

In this conversation, Leah Johansen, M.D. centers her work on the power of asking the right question. Rather than chasing solutions, she invites us to identify the core question—or limiting belief—quietly shaping our lives beneath the surface. From this root inquiry, she explains, patterns of thought, behavior, health, and relationship naturally unfold. By bringing conscious attention to that central question, we create the conditions for clarity, regulation, and genuine change. The conversation frames healing not as fixing what’s broken, but as uncovering and gently rewriting the story from which everything else extends—allowing transformation to ripple outward, personally and collectively. Thank you Adam Jennings, Ann Collins, shannon kennedy, Karen C-Collector of Books 📖, Monica Ticknor, and many others for tuning into my live video with Leah Johansen, M.D.! Join me for my next live video in the app. Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe

In this joyful, intimate conversation, Kimberly Warner reunites with artist and writer Elizabeth Jameson—whose work many listeners may remember from the original Unfixed docu-series and their later collaboration, MS Confidential. Together, they explore what it means to live inside an “imperfect body” without reducing that life to tragedy or inspiration. Elizabeth shares how she once refused to look at her MRIs—“horrifying” proof of a progressive disease—until she made a radical pivot: transforming those clinical images into art, reclaiming her medical data and finding unexpected beauty in brain folds that resemble calligraphy. As MS progressed and she became quadriplegic, she adapted again, turning toward writing, speaking, and the ongoing practice of “making friends” with her body. The conversation moves through reinvention, intimacy, and agency: how to articulate what you need when your body changes; how caregiving reshapes relationships; how swearing can be its own kind of medicine; and how aging, in a strange way, can become a homecoming—“I love getting older because I’m now normal.” What emerges is not a neat lesson, but a lived philosophy: let it suck when it sucks, stay curious, keep redefining intimacy, and notice the people around you who make your life possible. A gathering full of grit, tenderness, laughter—and the kind of gratitude that feels like oxygen. Thank you Nan Tepper, Francesca Bossert, Maura, Jay, Kathleen Kiddo, Monica Ticknor and many others for tuning into my live video with Elizabeth! More about Elizabeth: Elizabeth is a vibrant illustration of grace and grit, real chutzpah, turning lump of coal into diamonds and MRI’s into works of art. In other words, she is an artist and writer exploring what it means to live in an imperfect body as part of the shared human experience. Elizabeth Jameson’s journey with multiple sclerosis has spanned over three decades, but before being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, she worked as a public interest lawyer, representing incarcerated children and later advocating for kids with chronic illnesses and disabilities to receive the medical care they needed. As her own disease progressed, she began transforming her MRIs into art — reclaiming her medical data and turning those clinical images into invitations for deeper, more human conversations about illness and disability. Her work now lives in permanent collections across the U.S. and internationally, including the National Institutes of Health, major universities, and medical schools. Due to the progression of MS, she is now quadriplegic and can no longer create visual art without assistance. She writes and speaks widely about living with illness and disability. Her essays have appeared in The New York Times, The British Medical Journal, WIRED, and MIT’s Leonardo Journal. Her piece “Losing Touch, Finding Intimacy” was also included in the New York Times anthology About Us. She gives talks around the country — including a TEDx talk called “Learning to Celebrate and Embrace Our Imperfect Bodies” — and her new book, An Intimate Journey, comes out later this spring that chronicles the various art methods the artist has used to understand her relationship with a disease that continues to advance: textile paintings, solar plate etchings, embroideries, and digital renderings created from the clinical data that she initially refused to face. Jameson has often referred to her MRIs as containing a secret language she yearns to comprehend. You can view her expansive, extensive art and writing collections here. Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe

This conversation with the brilliant David Roberts kept circling back to insecurity, not the dramatic kind, and not financial, but the quieter feeling of being a little outside things. Of not quite knowing how to perform confidence, how to bluff, how to talk the talk. David reflects on how that lack of ease stayed with him even as his career advanced, and how, in hindsight, it may have saved him. Rather than hardening into certainty or ego, that self-doubt tempered him. It kept him oriented toward home, toward family, toward listening and learning. He has a philosopher’s mind, always turning ideas over, always curious, more interested in learning than arriving. What emerges is a portrait of a different kind of hero: someone shaped by vulnerability, softened at the edges, and oriented toward connection rather than conquest. In a world that rewards certainty and performance, this felt like exactly the kind of voice we need. Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe

Living with early-onset Parkinson’s, writer Eileen Dougharty has turned what she can’t fix into a full-on creative rebellion. In this salty, tender conversation, we talk about death & bucket lists, deep brain stimulation & love thugs, and why most things are actually small things when it comes down to it. Eileen reminds us that saying I love you might be the fiercest act of defiance. Thank you Nan Tepper, Holly Starley, Francesca Bossert, Lor, and many others for tuning into my live video with Eileen Dougharty! Join me for my next live video in the app. Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe

A juicy teaser: Kimberly: Some people might see like this story of yours is actually a true redemption arc, you know, like, Oh, she solved this resolved this. So I’m curious, how does the broken part, how do the broken parts still live in you? And how do you hold them differently? Like, do you relate? Like, do you still visit self-doubt and depression? Absolutely. And all that stuff. And so what’s transformed with how you relate to those parts of yourself? Nan: I’m not afraid of it anymore. I’m not afraid of it anymore. If I feel myself getting sad, which is different than depression... I ask the sadness what it wants me to know. If I start to feel depressed, I say, what’s the message? What do you want me to know? If I get angry, there’s always that curiosity that will kick in. And for those who don’t yet have a copy in their hands, my book Nan mentioned is available for purchase! Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe

Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe

What a tender, joyous celebration. The festivities were abundant with laughter and tears, and overflowing admiration for my publisher Empress Edition’s & Alisa Kennedy Jones game-changing vision and artistry. ❤️❤️❤️ I never imagined a simple reading from my Unfixed launch party would ripple like this, but here we are. This book was born on Substack, chapter by chapter, held and then lifted by a community of readers who walked with me long before a publisher ever came calling. And then Empress Editions appeared, a publishing revolution created by midlife women for midlife women, born from a single question in a book club: What if we all hired each other? What if we finally centered the stories traditional publishing sidelines? Empress is flipping the entire model so midlife authors keep the lion’s share of their work, yes—but more than that, they’re building a movement to amplify the voices of women whose lives are anything but finished. I’m honored that Unfixed found its home with them, and that this Substack community has been the current carrying us forward. If you feel called to read the memoir or support the work of Empress, links are below. Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe

Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe

"I'm no fan of myself. I've learned to tolerate myself. Like, okay, this is who I am. I don't know if anybody runs around and goes, gosh, I'm so glad I'm me. So, I don't have that, but there is an acceptance, and I think that gets better as you get older, and I think it's easier as you get older… but when I write I get to be my best self." -Adam Nathan, writer Ah, dear listener, what a delight awaits you today! Before you plunge into the words below, I urge you to find a cozy nook, perhaps wrap yourself in a blanket, and instead of reading, close your eyes and listen. In this interview, the extraordinary Adam Nathan brings to life poignant excerpts from his oeuvre. Through his lyrical cadence, he leads us into imagined realms where humor hangs with mystery, play lives alongside compassion, and pain, love, and redemption reign as royalty. He speaks of the tender moment when his mother read to him in his youth, feeling "as supple as a tiger cub in his mother's mouth." I suspect you, too, may find that same warmth enveloping you. Adam, no stranger to the full spectrum of human emotion, crafts stories that gut and mend, reminding us that to feel—even the sharpest of pains—is far superior to numbness. From that raw experience, the heart transforms, becoming more than mere anatomy; it evolves into a vessel of shared vulnerability and grand humanity. And speaking of grand, Adam has embarked on a monumental journey: to write 100 stories in 100 months—an astonishing span of 8 1/3 years fueled by relentless creativity and fervor. He's nearing the completion of his first ten, which we discuss in our conversation. I implore you to seek them out in their entirety. They will haunt you, tickle you, and join you at the kitchen table, urging you to question assumptions, live more authentically, and cultivate gratitude for this magnificent thing we call life. "This is my third act. This is where I feel I contribute and where I feel something that I'm leaving behind is special. Nobody really cares whether I'm writing a hundred stories or six or a thousand. But I'm telling myself, look, you have a hundred stories to say It – It with a capital "I" – and if you live that long, the hundred stories are what you're saying life means to you." Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe

"Writing is the most true to myself that I can be." "To me, it's just exhilarating, the notion that you can have a seed of an idea and then the only way to find out where the plot is going to go is by inhabiting those characters and the situation and just writing it and finding out. And that's pretty much how I do everything when I write." -Nathan Slake, writer, scientist, dreamer Occasionally, I'll discover a writer whose prose tastes like food—nourishing food, delicious food. Phrases that slow me down, descriptions to savor, sentences that land in my body like sun-warmed blackberries: complete and whole, yet always leaving me wanting more. Nathan Slake is one of those writers. While his professional life is spent within the walls of academia, teaching and researching immunology, his soul resides in storytelling. I've found a kindred spirit, a brother-from-another-mother, in Nathan. I nodded throughout our conversation like a bobblehead as I related to his experiences of being a "slow bloomer," his love for "slow reading," and the not-so-slow exhilaration of creating and writing without a map, where deep listening precedes strategizing. Nathan is someone to keep on your radar, friends! His imagination and craft are already captivating the minds and hearts of many readers. And while he humbly admits to only "discovering his soul" in his 30s—largely due to a deliberate cultivation of attentive presence and deep conversations with his wife Josephine—this soul is already a mosaic of memorable landscapes and characters, all grappling with poignant themes on the nature of consciousness and what it means to be human. Get full access to Unfixed at unfixed.substack.com/subscribe