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Anna Marie Tendler has always been a writer.
(There will probably never be a memoir for that.)
Several unhealthy and harmful relationships with men (and some women!)
over Tendlers life contributed to her mental-health struggles, enhancing her anxiety and paranoia and self-doubt.
She undercuts the artistry of the memoir itself by dredging up the past, even when its unremarkable.
Even scenes of art therapy that take place during her program feel rushed or ignored.
Something that has to do with women.
These women saved her, just as Tendler saved herself if only they all got a little more credit.
