It started with Cheyenne’s unofficial diagnosis. Feet to the glued the floor while my hands strangled the white cashmere scarf as I walled off any more comments from the therapist. My world of being the perfect mom, of raising three healthy children, creating a beautiful marriage, and living the good life in the flatlands of…
These Old Walls: Breaking the cycle of self harm
If these old walls could talk, I thought to myself as I carefully picked my way across the broken floorboards of the main childhood home I had. My grandmother’s house was the center of my life. If my parents fought, we came here. We came here for Sunday dinners, we came here so Mom could…