Truth has a way of creating discomfort. Full archive of essays someone really wished I hadn't published.
The stories behind the stories It's June 2nd, and I've yet to cover what went on in May. Last month got away from me, which, if you've been keeping up with the work this month, you kinda figured that out already. That being said,...
The dark side of ambition (and why you can't stop).
The call that never came, the goodbye that never happened, and why some family betrayals cut deeper than death itself.
"She got the worst of the abuse." When my husband finally said those words out loud, I felt both validated and furious. Mainly because I'd spent years denying what it really was.
They came with bags of clothes reeking of neglect and a belief that "home" meant holes in walls from fists and bullets—how do you compete with dysfunction when it's all a child has ever known?
After two and a half years, I have zero regets how this is ending. Meanwhile, the need for hypervigilance is finally ending, and I have no idea who I am without it.