Shame damages female potential, it’s time to get rid of it — “Mama, I love your stripes. Where did you get them?” My three-year-old daughter traces my stretch marks with her tiny finger during our yoga session. “They showed up when my belly stretched to hold a baby.” “Oh, I can’t wait to have mama stripes too! But, I will not have…

Lila has a plan to make her boyfriend pay, but sometimes plans change — She made it onto the train just as the doors whooshed shut. Ben nearly made her late again, insisting that she stay and finish the fight. That was the last time he’d block the door so she couldn’t leave the apartment. There wasn’t anything there she wanted anyway, anything that…

But affording alternative therapies is a barrier to most — Early-season snowfall covered my windshield as I sat in my decade-old minivan, the motor humming loudly. I needed to drive home, but tears clouded my vision, combining with the large, wet flakes splattering against the glass to distort the world. …

I stopped wearing busy like a badge of honor, and I’m never going back. — “How are you?” my coworker asks, walking into the basement closet that serves as an office for a meeting. “Oh, ugh,” I look up from my computer, “I’m so busy.” “Me too,” she launches into an explanation of all the ways her time is soaked up. I respond with more…

Our children learn from us so I need to be careful what story I’m telling — Tiny Human’s feet — translucent skin, blue veins, little toes — splash in the water as we shower, “Mama, when I grow up, do I have to shave my legs too?” her eyes follow the razor over the curve of my shin. I pause, mid-stroke, shifting my gaze, so my…

Defense mechanism, competition, or self-hate… maybe all three — “Kelly said you’ve been acting different.” My mom was concerned. She noticed changes in me, too, and wasn’t sure whether to chalk it up to adolescent angst or more than that. “I don’t know. I just don’t think I get along with girls very well,” I started practicing this excuse…

Our schools need to do better with victims of trauma — I sat in the principal’s office going over some reports that detailed how students in the school rated in the achievement of some arbitrary reading goal set by people who don’t work with children the walkie-talkie crackled. “John, flipped over a desk again,” his teacher’s annoyance was palpable. “I’ll get…

But not advocating for your need does — “Can I have a kiss?” I stood on my tiptoes, still unable to reach his mouth. “No, not right now,” his hand rests against my chest, gentle pressure, overwhelming pressure. “Why not?” I cocked my head to one side, the curl that bounces in the center of my forehead covering…

And it hurt my family, but, it’s not too late to fix that — I struggled upstairs from my office with my mind swirling with the next steps of my day. I needed to go to my doctor’s appointment, make dinner, pack the kids’ lunches for the next day, help my son with his homework. Was tonight a bath night for the kids? God…