Jun 23
3 min read
I Live in a Cage of My Own Making
It’s easier to make than it is to undo.
I can still remember the first time I consciously felt afraid to leave my house.
It was the second summer after I’d graduated high school. My mom had less mobility due to having a below-the-knee prosthetic for the leg she had amputated the year before, and I was nervous every time we left the house. I worried she…
