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My husband slammed my hand onto the burning stove because the steak was “overcooked.” As I collapsed in agony, my mother-in-law stepped over me, laughing, “She needs to learn her place.” My father-in-law just turned up the TV. They thought I was reaching for a bandage. I smiled through the tears and whispered, “enjoy your last few minutes of peace.” then, the siren lights flashed outside…

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No one critiqued my technique. No one reached out violently to grab my wrist.

When the meal was finished, I sat down at the head of the dining table alone. I looked out the massive windows at the Seattle skyline in the distance. I smiled, not simply because the physical pain was gone, but because the psychological terror had been entirely excised from continue reading …

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