Memories meeting challenges on the road to Victory.
I have found different ways of protecting or shielding myself at certain periods of my life. As a chubby faced, dimpled little girl in a constant state of fear and turmoil, there was no physical place to run to for safety. My mind was my escape. In a way that I will never understand, my ‘spirit’ body would break free from this mistreated physical body and soar to a place to forget.
In just a few short years my mother would kidnap my sister and I to take us to Idaho to live with her and my grandmother. It was during this stage of my life that my ‘port in a storm’ became the bathroom. I had a daily ritual of climbing up on the small white stool to stand on the sink to open the medicine cabinet to find the razors on the top shelf. I would slice down…
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