Every weekday morning, I get dressed up for work.
I’m not going to any office, right now. I’m not going anywhere where anyone but my husband and kids can see me.
A few weeks back, in “To walk through,” I wrote about the importance of boundaries as a many-trauma survivor in the era of COVID-19. For me, clothing is a boundary:
Dressing for work helps me distinguish between work and not-work time, when all these times are now spent at home. Continue reading “When I am done with words”