Sometimes I lay awake at night and wonder if I’m not doing enough, pressuring myself for not fitting to the historical timeline for a woman my age (where’s my husband? my child? why am I penniless and renting?). Even when I decide I am content where I am, the demons return. Telling me I would…

I’d been struggling with one thing—my identity between who I thought I was, who I wanted to be, and who I was forced to be at home.