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Years of navigating a body that was misunderstood by the medical system, and inevitably missed by me, sparked a deep curiosity about the relationship between the physical and psychological experience. I now have the privilege to study that relationship formally, because I believe that science and lived experience should inform one another. I was in my early teens when my body began raising alarms – over and over again – alarms no one else could hear.

On April 15, we celebrate the birthday and legacy of Leonardo da Vinci, a true Renaissance master whose boundless curiosity bridged art, science, and invention. With an extraordinary talent for observation, he redefined creativity, leaving a timeless imprint as both an artist and a scientist, inspiring generations to come. In his research projects he showed us that creativity is born from infinite curiosity, from observing the world closely, and from being a good friend of ti

‘She’s a right little madam.’ You might think that was quite a mean thing for a parent to say about their child, wouldn’t you? Now imagine there is a little more context, that the parent said: ‘Oh Zoë’s a lovely little girl. She’s funny, sweet… except when she doesn’t get a lolly before bed, then she’s a right little madam!’ We can go a little further. Imagine the parent laughed after they said that. Suddenly not quite so bad, huh?

For me, OCD has always been about cycles, contradiction, and chaos. I’ve had OCD for as long as I can remember, but the first time anyone picked up on it properly, I was taken to the doctor for rashes on my hands around the age of eight. I remember trying to pass it off as something else. Dry skin, a reaction, anything but what it actually was. The doctor hardly even glanced at my hands before they said, quite plainly, that my cracked, oozing hands were likely from excessive

The last time I saw my grandfather, he didn't look like himself. Or maybe, he looked like a version of himself I hadn't been given enough time to get used to. That's the strange tax of distance. He lived in Bangalore, and I grew up in Texas, which meant I didn't watch his Parkinson's disease progress the way my cousins did: steadily, incrementally, in the daily way that allows you to adjust. I saw him in intervals. Years apart, sometimes.

It was November 2004 when I received my comorbid diagnosis: Panic Disorder with Agoraphobia and Major Depressive Disorder. At age 14, this had been a huge relief and also the first time I encountered what the International Classification of Diseases (ICD) and the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) were. For the first time, I had a valid explanation for my feelings of impending doom, my breathlessness and dizziness, and my rapid heart rate.

Throughout life, women often experience a series of shared transitions. From menstruation and reproductive health to pregnancy and motherhood, and later life stages such as menopause, quietly creating forms of connection and community. My own experience with menstruation was one of the first times I noticed how these unspoken communities began to form. When I got my first period, it felt like a secret I was embarrassed to carry.

As I approach the end of my master’s degree and find myself once again confronted by the question of what comes next, I am reminded of Sylvia Plath’s 1963 semi-autobiographical novel The Bell Jar. In this book, Plath beautifully illustrates indecision and future possibilities through her fig tree analogy. “I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked."

I’ve grappled with an eating disorder for most of my life. A millennial, I grew up in a skinny-centric culture and watched shows like America’s Next Top Model, where aspiring models were berated for being anything more than size 0. And I berated myself for every pound I gained or failed to lose. In my 30s, I stand on the scale every day. On many days, I do it multiple times. Like other millennials, I grew up watching cycle after cycle of Tyra Banks chastising young women.