My Own Prison
I've been held captive by the generational trauma of my mother. I wish it hadn't taken me so long to figure out just how deep in this prison I had been kept.
Depleted Momentum • The Art of Weaponized Truth
Everytime the phone rings lately and it’s my mother on the other end, I think back to the times when she was not a phone call away but instead all in my face and in my personal space. I do not wish those days back.
Improper Expectations
We had only been in Guatemala two weeks, and my mother had already asked me three times if I was happy to be here. And each time I gave her the same answer: Yes, I was happy to be here.
Stress Eating My Emotional Abuse
La Llorona arrived for Christmas and I've been eating non-stop ever since. Emotional abuse and terrible coping mechanisms.
