It’s hard to describe the explosion when all of my competing selves crashed into each other in the summer of 1984.

“I was 24 years old and playing racquetball with my identity.”

Each serve of the ball had me trying out another part of myself. The new parts collided with a loud thwack against the walls I’d grown up surrounded by. In the racquetball court, sound is heightened, senses are heightened, and sometimes, the ball hits you in the ass.

Here’s a young woman who fits nicely into the mommy ...