I spent most of my childhood growing up in northern Alabama surrounded by cousins & family. I remember those summer days as kids, picking berries and smushing them into some homemade “soup” we would pretend was food only to then have this make believe “house” situation turn into a game of tag as you tried to smear the smushed berries onto an unsuspecting cousin. It was a great time although chances are high the berries may possibly have been somewhat toxic…

I also grew up under the shadow of my family’s trauma. The story of an uncle’s death a heavy cloak we were all asked to wear and was only spoken about when my grandparents randomly mentioned it once in a blue moon.

There was also the constant chaos & fear of an aunt who had schizophrenia & was unpredictably committed in and out of hospitals every few months because meds never seemed to work and she could become harmful to herself and others.

Then...