This morning my skin is on fire. I touch it and hives the size of lemons instantly appear. My body is telling me I must revisit my truth. Reset my thinking. Keep that frontal lobe high functioning. It doesn’t take much to peel back the veneer that covers my regret, no, in truth shame. A deep shame that I couldn’t protect my own children. Ultimately, I saved them, but I couldn’t protect those precious ones. Not from confusion, heartache, or changes to their brain that trauma unavoidably causes. Not only were my children’s brains altered, mine was long before theirs. This is how generation … [Read more...]