My friend Bekah sings, paints, crafts, quilts, makes beautiful kids and she is most probably gagging right now because I am saying anything complimentary about her. She is also super humble. Oddly enough, when I first met Bekah, we did not like each other.
I have not spoken to my parents in over a decade. What started out as hurt feelings and an argument ended up a grudge between family. Many times and in many ways I’ve attempted to reconcile, but for them the damage was done and so were they. For the longest time I counted all the ways they did me wrong. From […]
Worthless. Loser. Fatty. Retard. Reject. Weirdo. What do you call yourself? How do you speak to yourself? For nearly 35 plus years I called myself one or more of the names listed above. I heard them in the halls of my school, in the rooms of my house, and in the caverns of my mind over and over.
I feel this tension. This push and pull against my mind and heart. This isn’t something I am unfamiliar with. This resistance slams into me with a force that sometimes steals my breath, but its intention is to steal my dreams.