“I feel like a small potato,” I texted to my husband the other day.

Trying to be a voice for mental health, for women of faith, amidst all the noise “out there” some days feels impossible.

Writing has been hard today. The words haven’t been flowing. I write in spurts and starts. Type here. Hit delete. Then backspace, backspace, backspace. If I had been writing on paper, I think there’d be a huge pile of crumpled-up pieces of paper in the wastepaper basket.