"I had managed to keep my composure in the grocery store, and even when I was putting away my cart back to get my quarter back. But as I drove home, the tears came. I began the ugly cry."
It’s not that I necessary look old. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I look tired. I look rushed. I look like I’ve let myself go. Mom tells the realities of caring for others with special needs.
"As hard as I have tried over the years, especially in high school, and as much as I may want it to be different, I just don’t feel it. I don’t. I don’t guess I’ve ever identified as a woman."
