It’s 1986ish. I’m a child and my older siblings have been picking on me. I have a point to make a point to prove, one that would validate me. I want to say it, but my mother is asking me “Is it better to be right or to be kind?” The fight goes out of me. Everything in my little life has ingrained in me that kindness matters above all. I never say my point. This guides me for the first 25 years of my life, a lesson in biting it all down. It’s 1999. I graduate high school in a month or less. I’m sitting in the guidance counselor’s room and she’s looking at me while I sob uncontrollably and explain the the boy I was supposed to marry has broken up with me. The house, the cars, the kids, our idyllic life gone into the arms of another girl. She calls Rob to the office. Conflict resolution, my first real taste of it as a grown up. I knock the sobbing down to sniffs when he sits next to me feeling foreign. I don’t know him now. He says he never cared about me, I was just a game to win. I wa...
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