My friend Paloma has started an incredible project called Dove Story, where women are encouraged to share written works that expose us all as the raw, flawed, funny, beautiful people we are.
I'm honored that she asked me to share a piece of my work with her, where I talked about - what else? - some more things I've been taught over the last few months.
The opening grafs are below - please continue over to Dove Story to read the rest. And to explore the project that Paloma has started, which is a beautiful monument to the strength of women everywhere!
Three times a week, I take the elevator into the bowels of a depressingly decorated building (beige walls and brown carpet everywhere) and get help healing my hip.
Appointments always begin with what my therapist calls “manipulating the muscle.” Think massage, but if the most sadistic Game of Thrones character dreamed it up. When it’s over, my face is usually streaked with tears and there are tiny bits of brown plastic underneath my fingernails from clutching the table.
After my first session, I walked gingerly back to my office and ducked into a bathroom to examine my leg in the fluorescent light. Only ten minutes after the appointment ended, angry purple and blue bruises already covered my body, from pelvis to mid-thigh.