Notes on growing up as a glass child — the sibling whose needs went quiet.
Enter the journal →There's a word for it. I went most of my life without that word, and not having it shaped everything. So let me start with the word, and then I'll tell you…
Ask me about my childhood and I can give you facts. Dates, houses, schools. What I can't easily give you is the feeling most people seem to mean when they say…
From the outside, I look like I have it together. Maybe you do too. That's sort of the whole…
For most of my life, I thought my reactions were just my personality. I was the kind of person who spiraled when a text went unanswered. Who heard a sliver of…
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