You know the word. What's buried under your pile of fine? What wounds have you tried to doctor with that word or imitation of feeling? Can you list a lot, like I can? I said I was fine when my mother told me she wished I wasn't born. Fine when my father was the first man to break my heart. Fine when the weight of my family became my cage. I'M NOT FINE! I'm done being fine. Join me as I give you the perspective of a person who fights every day for being heard, understood, valued, and accountable when wrong, but most of all wants to love themselves like they do others.