“Can you see the suffering children behind me?” Dr. Frank asked. I looked around his office, searching for a picture of children, maybe from a mission trip. But there was nothing.

I’ve been seeing Dr. Frank for most of my adult life, yet I couldn’t figure out what he meant. I was there for my routine physical, going over blood work when he asked how I was doing. Physically, I was fine, but I didn’t want to tell him that I’d just lost my entire family.

Not the kids. Anything but my boys, God—anything.

I was on a three-year streak of horrible luck.

Victim, Survivor, Thriver, Triggered, Broken, and Story—these are just a few of the many words that can stand in the way of moving mountains and becoming my best self.