The waiting is large as we count down to the book release date of May 4, silence in a void of stilled voices, anticipation and apprehension together, delicious and harsh, awaiting the launch of You Will Never Be Normal.
I randomly recall June, 1969. I was a single mother, the same age as the students hitch-hiking across the country to be at SDS in Chicago, as I shared an impromptu backyard dinner on the outskirts of Portland, Oregon with two poets—working poets-in-residence at universities. A three-legged cat loped across the roof and down a tree to stalk a squirrel and a poem was created. I wanted just that, to be the writer who could find a story in a three-legged cat, and delight in it when I couldn’t even make it to Chicago. I didn’t know for a long, long time that I was a three-legged cat.
Yes, this is exactly the book I needed and was compelled to write to make sense of my own story, to share with those who hunger for it, to affirm the experiential truth of DID. In all imaginable scenarios, this truth remains.