That vision of myself was gone, finished, kaput

The only one who cared about my shattered identity was... me. I would never again be the mother who didn’t yell at her children, or the neighbor who always had her kids under perfect control without raising her voice. That vision of myself was gone, finished, kaput.

Now, I had no choice but to develop a new identity, one that would stand by me even at times when I didn’t quite live up to the image I wanted to maintain, or to the expectations I had of myself. Less perfect, more forgiving.

—Chavi Fuchs

Blowing my Cover

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 772)