Adena M'lynn's Voice

Coping with my childhood trauma feels like I’m locked in a chess match I never agreed to play. My opponent—the memories, the pain, the fear—sits across from me, always patient, always ready to pounce on my missteps. The board is a battlefield of my life, and every piece I move feels heavy, like it carries the weight of the choices I’ve made just to survive. Sometimes, I can see a clear path forward—a bold move that might give me an advantage—but just as often, I feel trapped, backed into a corner by thoughts I can’t seem to shake. My pawns are my small victories: getting out of bed, reaching out for help, choosing to forgive myself for things that were never my fault. They move slowly, and sometimes it feels like they don’t matter, but I know they’re my foundation. The knights are my coping mechanisms, the unexpected ways I maneuver around the pain—music, writing, or just breathing through another hard day. The bishop is my intuition, guiding me diagonally through the fog, even when I ...

When death steps into our lives and whispers its inevitability, the world seems to shift. The ground beneath us feels unsteady, the air heavy with unspoken questions. Knowing that the end is near can be both a burden and a strange kind of gift. It drives us, pulling us toward reflection, forcing us to confront what truly matters, and awakening us to the beauty of each passing moment. Some days, the light seems brighter. Hope floods our hearts, reminding us that the time we have is precious, not meant to be squandered. These are the days when laughter feels more vibrant, when the touch of a loved one lingers like a blessing. We find ourselves grateful for the small things—the warmth of the sun, the rhythm of our breath, the sound of birds in the morning. But not every day carries such grace. There are darker days, where the weight of death presses upon the spirit. Grief, fear, and uncertainty creep in, pulling us into the shadows of our thoughts. On these days, it’s hard to find the l...

I’d like to begin by saying how amazing it is to be alive to see the progress of years of women pushing the cart uphill in stiletto heels, with a child on one hip and holding the hand of another, trying to raise a family in a society where women are invisible except in the bedroom or kitchen. We have a woman leader today, tossing the heels aside, and lacing up her tennis shoes in order to keep this country moving forward.  I attended the live production of “Do No Harm” a 3 years ago with a dear friend in Dallas, Texas. It was performed by the Soul Rep Theater Company, the link is a different production.    I thought I knew history, but I was not taught the truth in school. In the 1960s, our leaders, while pushing for civil rights and encouraging openness, withheld many stories by teaching only “history”—a narrative centered on men, for men. What I learned, women of color were tortured in the name of medical advancement, a reality obscured from our education. ...