Karl, you’ve done it again. Thanks to you, another August BBQ in San Francisco will include a knee-length parka instead of my summertime daisy dukes.

Like most city newbies, my introduction to Karl, the not-so-affectionate name given to SF fog, hit me like the marine layer does at Ocean Beach in July. By now I’ve learned to never leave the house without multiple layers packed, no matter how sunny it is outside. But over time, I’ve noticed a negative impact on my energy and enthusiasm for the world during summer in the city.

The root cause behind the cold blanket…

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, elbows on your knees, hands clasped in the space between. Head bowed, like an athlete at rest. Earlier in the night, you’d had an attack. Now, hours later, you breathe. You tell yourself that this is a process. You’ve been here before.

Through an open window that overlooks Lombard Street, you’re listening to the sound of the city in the fog at night. It’s an orchestral sound, comprised of sub-parts. There’s the traffic, which arrives and fades in a spectrum of percussive intensities — Smart cars like waves at low tide, busses…

by Katie MacBride

Robin Williams’s death has instigated numerous conversations around sobriety, but the biggest issue for me is the idea that we still don’t know how to talk about crippling depression. I’m specifically talking about the depression that arises after one gets sober — though it was likely lurking below the surface long before that demon arose.

I am also sober, and additionally, I have been diagnosed with clinical depression. Those of us who suffer from this double whammy sometimes refer to ourselves as “double winners.” …

By Caleb Pershan• Illustrated by Minnie Phan

I spent the worst summer of my life in San Francisco.

An East Coaster living with a distant relative in Ashbury Heights before my senior year of high school, I taught summer school in the Western Addition. But to be honest, I spent most of the summer in bed, inexplicably exhausted and unable to explore the city. I thought I was sad because of a breakup and berated myself for my loneliness and lack of energy.

Mustering the courage to visit the Golden Gate Bridge one morning, I looked out at the fog…

By Angela Rodriguez Prilliman

Imagine a large, oddly shaped box with an unevenly distributed weight. You can carry it on your side with the help of your hip for a while, but eventually it gets uncomfortable. So you switch it to the other side, hold it over your shoulder for a bit, then put it on your head and drag it on the floor, trying out every position possible. It’s super-annoying, but you can carry it around with you if you have to.

That’s what living with constant anxiety feels like, especially when you’re in an office setting where you have ongoing tasks to…