I used to live in fear.
A fear so deep it had me pushing like a freight train up a mountain—all effort, all grit, no pause.
Sparks and smoke flew off of me, burning out my energy and scorching the people I loved.
I moved like a wild woman, driven by one core belief: I was alone.

My father had died.
My mother was surviving on the goodwill of my brothers.
The man I married was sick.
And somewhere in the quiet, I made a decision:
It’s up to me. I must do it all. I must hold it all.