In my twenties and thirties, anger was my weapon of choice. Growing up with an alcoholic father and a people-pleasing mother, I soon realized that being angry prevented others from taking advantage of me. Anger helped me feel powerful, strong, and in control. I stormed through life, defending and protecting myself against every threat, insult, and should that came…

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When my mother’s breath left her body for the last time in 2009, I could barely breathe. I shattered. I dropped deep into the dark well of grief. I could only think of my loss as negative. I didn’t have the insights I have now to think of the blessings that came into my life…

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