Ten years ago, my apartment caught fire. I lost most of my belongings and my home. Worse yet, a good portion of my body was impacted by the fire. I had to re-learn how to walk and use my right hand.

The trauma was sudden, painful and sustaining. I had no frame of reference for what was happening and what would happen. Life was surreal. Language failed me. The future seemed unimaginable. Will I make it? How will I pay my bills? How will I get my life back on track?

Then there were the phone calls. The dropping off of documents at insurance and government agencies. The physical signing of paperwork with an injured hand. The many steps in a process. The many literal steps. The uncertainty. The Am I doing this right? Because if I mess up the consequences are far too great. The explaining of my story. The repeating of my story. The reopening of wounds. The void of answers. The tireless champions. The systems that don’t support people.

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