I remember staring at my micky mouse mattress. It was being taken away. I was only 8 but I felt a deep grief. We were leaving everything I knew in Iran and moving to another land. It was called America. I felt sad and like I no longer had a home. Little did I know this would be the easiest feat, because when we arrived in America, my mom had a mental breakdown. I became an 8 year old therapist, life partner, and emotional punching bag. Fast forward 4 years later, I developed pain in my body, and now at the age of 33, I have every autoimmune and chronic illness and mental health diagnosis you can throw at a woman. It's mostly invisible, but I struggle. Even in the struggle with family and bodily pain, I've found so much joy and so much magic. Life is truly magical. If you've experienced similar things or if this resonates with you, let's talk. I've mentally made sense of all the family trauma, the medical ptsd, and the ongoing grief. I've cultivated tools and so much compassion.