Karen Peterson looks like she has it all together: a great family, great job, and a rosy life. But what no one knows is that behind the perfected social mask that she wears, nothing is eating away at her. Bit by bit it is snipping away pieces of her, until it will eventually eat her alive. She begins writing in a last ditch effort to get the venom out of her own head and to learn how she found herself at such a crossroads. She found that her voice, long-silenced, began to speak again, and when it did, it told of pain, and trauma, and loss. She buried pieces of her heart when she buried her son, and she buried more when she lost her husband. After she and her children lost their home and everything they owned in a house fire, she turned her face from the world and was ready to give up, but one fierce flame of hope deep inside her held on. With the love of family, the help of her community, and her inherent tenacity (maybe stubbornness?), Karen moved forward inch by inch, day by day. "Forward" became her mantra. She looked hard at her life and decided to change the parts that just did not measure up. She reclaimed her muchness and vowed that she would practice what she preached: that to wait for the perfect time was only a way to delay. At age 42, she quit her job, went back to school, and started completely over. She never looked back, and has never been happier. She found her life. She found her laughter. She found herself. This is her story.
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