By most social standards, my life is going well. I am healthy, live independently and comfortably care for my family. I’ve published two books — the latter doing significantly better than the first. I know what it’s like to wear many hats — mom, aunt, PR coach and friend — and to enjoy the esteem of colleagues and friends alike. I have the mental and physical space to dream and to implement many of those dreams.
But as the poet Paul Laurence Dunbar wrote: “We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes — this debt we pay to human guile; with torn and bleeding hearts we smile, and mouth with myriad subtleties.”