Once Upon a Time There Was A Murder

At least that is what it felt like.

A kind of death. A murder of self. How does one navigate this type of trauma?

I was standing in the doorway of my husband’s den; didn’t even remember getting up from the sofa and walking there. At that point of the journey that spot of the sofa, my spot, was the one place in the whole house where I could be comfortable, except at night in…