Streetlights 

I don’t remember all the initial yelling that I’m told occurred, but I do remember being hastily buckled into my forward-facing car seat, and the bright streetlights casting fast shadows, as my mom drove our avocado green Pontiac Catalina to the corner bar. We lived in the Ukrainian Village of Chicago, and walking at night was never something my mom wanted to do. When the car stopped, she jumped out of the car, leaving me sitting in the back seat to make friends with the blin

Trauma often leaves invisible marks. Many who survive difficult childhoods develop survival skills that help them navigate instability, but these same skills can also create hidden barriers in adulthood. I am the person to tell this story because I have lived both sides: the child who survived by becoming invisible and adaptable, and the adult who transformed those survival strategies into professional competence, leadership, and responsibility. This memoir is a reflection on