Somehow, I kept going
As I got older, life—and school—became harder. I wasn’t a “cool” kid. My clothes were rarely new and honestly, not always clean. Kids at school and even some family members picked on me for whatever they could find. I tried to stay positive, tried to act like I didn’t hear it, but inside I hated…
Growing Up on Borrowed Time
If you’ve read anything prior to this, you already know a little about my relationship with my parents. Most of my memories with my dad feel loud, bright, and fun. On the surface, everything looked fine—carefree even. But when I slow those memories down, I can see how thin the line really was. One mile…
Before I knew better…
There are parts of my childhood that exist only in fragments. According to my mother and sisters, I experienced inappropriate behavior from a sibling at a very young age. I don’t remember the events themselves—only the room and the smell of stale cigarettes mixed with damp air. No matter how hard I try, my memories…
Through a child’s eyes…
My younger years were… lacking, especially when it came to my parents doing their job of actually raising me. A lot of the time, I was left in the care of my older sisters. When I wasn’t, I kept myself busy—playing with friends or making new ones with the neighbors. I learned pretty early how…
The Start…
Most of my memories before the age of seven are little flashes—more like snippets than full stories. I can remember the energy of the moment, the smells, and those tiny details that stuck with me. Hanging out with family and friends, climbing trees, pretending I was a witch who could control the wind, arguing, fighting,…
Hey Ya’ll!
My name is… well, for now, you can call me Anne. I’ve been on this earth a whopping 33 years, and I can tell you from experience—it only gets as good as you make it. I mostly wanted to say hello… and maybe offer a small warning. Some of what you’ll read here might make…
