The Great Cover Up
Sep 4, 2018 · 3 min read
I sat on the couch over the weekend, knees tucked beneath my chin, hands clenched into small fists, every muscle tense as I stared out the window at the gray sky. I was lost within my own mind, fighting a battle only I can fight, and hiding it pretty damn well. Or so I thought.
My three-year-old son’s voice jolted me from my mental cage. “Mommy’s sad.”


