ORANGES MCGEE WRITES

Holidays and birthdays have always carried a strange weight for me. The twinkling lights, the carefully wrapped gifts, the expectation of joy. They should feel warm and connective. Instead, they often land with a quiet ache: going through the motions while something essential stays out of reach. I am a mother, a Korean-American adoptee, and someone healing form CPTSD rooted in childhood neglect. I have spent years trying to understand why celebration feels difficult. The clea

There's a particular kind of moment that keeps happening in my life. I will be in a conversation with a new friend, colleague, or potential connection, and something small shifts. Tension around the eyes. A change in tone. A subject pivot that does not match what came before. Before I have decided to speak, I am already naming it. "you seemed to pull back when we touched on that." or I probe without naming the cue: "it seems like there is more under that." The split-second sh

In family systems, relationships, and even broader society, we often hear the phrase "That's just how it is" or "Everyone deals with this." Emotional unavailability, inconsistent support, people-pleasing, or minimizing pain become so familiar that they feel normal. But familiarity isn't the same as health. Distinguishing what is common from what is actually normal has been one of the most useful turns in my own healing. It is also a distinction that helps interrupt generation

Parents are a child's first movement models. From the earliest months, children learn to walk, run, jump, balance, and explore the world largely through watching the adults who care for them. When a parent lives with a physical disability or chronic condition that affects mobility, strength, coordination, or endurance, this modeling carries added significance. It can build remarkable resilience or, in subtler ways, influence a child's confidence and physical exploration, espe