Mothers Who Leave Their Children (www.lithub.com) & Commentary
There are times I can't talk. It might be after I read something or hear something or watch the news. I'm rarely triggered by honesty, writing or memoir. I'm triggered by smells, nightfall and feeling trapped. Truth, even what is called "ugly truth," to me, when told, is always a window opening letting the air move. Sometimes, I don't realize I'm clenched in my body or my life and holding tight to a secret or memory or belief. It's when I read a piece like this and feel a nod of knowing, not...