My ego would rather I not write tonight, because truthfully, what I most need to say is that I’m feeling tender and weak and a bit untethered. My ego has always hated the idea that someday, I might look in the mirror and feel compassion for the woman staring back at me, so it tries to keep me from ever looking for too long.
Read MoreAt the tail end of a long work week, I found myself in a screaming match with a four-year-old. Certainly, it was not my finest hour—but if I get painfully honest, it was really just another snapshot in an ever-widening pool of evidence pointing to a truth I have long been avoiding: all is not well with my soul.
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