I was getting dressed. It should have been a good day, I’d slept well the night before, I’d been working out, but there it was; a persistent, dull heat and the threat of a tantrum. I was trying to avoid my triggers—don’t grab the top that I haven’t yet donated despite the fact that it always makes me feel hideous. Don’t start my hair or make up before the girls are all set because they’ll interrupt. Don’t decide this is the time to look for the missing necklace. I kept moving through the morning paces, but my thoughts kept banking into a wall of negativity—what I wasn’t doing, what I wasn’t feeling, what I wasn’t getting, and what I was ceasing to believe could ever be. It’s the last one…

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