Kitchen Battles

I am crumpled up on my kitchen floor, head in hands, hiding beneath a soundtrack of Fernando Ortega and Bifrost Arts, hoping my kids don’t notice I am weeping, It’s holy ground, but it feels like falling apart.

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Be Kind

I look at the clock hanging on the wall in the physical therapy center and see that only 45 minutes have passed. I am torn. I have another 15 minutes of exercises to complete, but I am ready to stop. My body is shaky and sweaty, and honesty, I feel nauseous. However, I have another…

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