“Our house is filled with hate,” I choked out in sobbing gasps sitting on a dock with new friends. We were sharing stories at a writers’ retreat last weekend, and I meant to start with where I went to college and how I was a theatre major and when I met the love of my life in a coffee shop playing the guitar with his hat pulled low.
“Our house is filled with hate,” I said. There’s too much trauma. We are not okay. I laugh-cried about the challenges of creating family out of brokenness and how I’m tiny shattered pieces and failing everyday. Teaching three kids from three different continents to be siblings feels beautiful one minute and freaking impossible the next. READ MORE
image from Ashlee Gadd, Coffee+Crumbs