Reflections on inherited family patterns, generational wounds, and the ongoing work of understanding what gets passed.
Something began when I was four years old, and it was reinforced, repeated, normalized, and sustained over the course of decades. The injury wasn't only the abuse itself. It was…
I’ve been reflecting on how, in my family—and unironically, in the family of the man I had children with—belonging was not rooted in mutual care, nuance, or individuality. It was…
Letting Go Each day, I live with the ache that I may not see my children again. We may not have another real conversation or moment of closeness. That may…
My sons learned, by design, to have zero tolerance for their mother. Ordinary acts of parenting—direction, correction, consequences, even simple questions—were rejected and reframed as manipulation or control. I once…