Fjóla Steinarsdóttir

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What other choice do you have? Nobody else is going to solve it for you. That sadness—the sadness of loss—is a different flavor than the sadness of reckoning. The sadness of reckoning feels visceral and angry and tinged with violence. It feels healable, somehow, with revenge or justice. But the sadness of a lost childhood feels like yearning, impossible desire. It feels like a hollow, insatiable hunger.
What My Bones Know: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma
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