When I started writing, I really struggled with why. Why would anyone want to hear from me? Why would I matter, my story matter? Why would anyone want to read my words? I want to be heard. Ok, so does pretty much everyone. Why me? Why should anyone listen to some middle class American white …
A couple of weeks ago, I took the huge step of meeting a wonderful friend for drinks and appetizers. In a restaurant. With other humans. It was both nerve-wracking and awesome, the first time I had been in a restaurant in more than a year and a half. But that’s not the point of this …
It’s my birthday. Forty-two. Historically, my birthday has sucked. Actually, all my life, though I have realized that the more recent sucking has kinda been my own fault. History lesson: I don’t remember much about my early birthdays, except they were big family events until we moved away from everyone when I was six. My …
I was mature for my age. Everyone said so. I regularly babysat for quite a few families in our church, including two families that each had six kids, and I took care of a one-year-old down the street two full days a week while her mother worked. Being homeschooled, I was available during the day, …
I came across this personal essay that I wrote almost 23 years ago. I sent it to my mother during my first semester of college (the first time around) and my father came across it while cleaning out their house and brought it to me last year. I’ve edited and condensed, but I have left …