The truth is, that I worked myself to the point of exhaustion whereas Tiffani, who isn’t much older than my son, knew how to create boundaries and more importantly, kept them.A couple of years later, all the extra hours I put in didn’t matter. I was being terminated – wrongfully, after being a whistleblower. I even ended up on the front page of the New York Times on New Year’s Day 2018. It was then, that I realized that Tiffani had the right idea.

I opened my eyes, sleepily.  Looked straight ahead.  Down the hall.  Confused. “Who’s the mom?” That’s the first thing that came to my mind.  My mind.  Mine.
Everything looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t place anything.  I had the sense of belonging, but I didn’t know how I belonged.  What was my role?  Who was I?

I couldn’t breathe.  It didn’t make any sense until my therapist asked me a simple question that made me realize that finding my voice meant losing my breath.