Beautiful Lies
Some kids dreamed about prom. I dreamed of escape.
Musings of a Teenaged Middle-Aged Misfit.
Some kids dreamed about prom. I dreamed of escape.
I judged people for this. Then I became one of them.
This is how you end up in a dumpster over a coffee maker.
I spent decades convinced I was "born to be fat". This counterintuitive approach set me free.
The call that never came, the goodbye that never happened, and why some family betrayals cut deeper than death itself.
It’s not that kind of ho phase. But it is that kind of month.
There's a big difference between getting older and getting old.
The Balkan Storm, Fat Thor energy, and Why Perfect Timing is a Myth: A Thanksgiving Confession.
Why choosing yourself feels like betrayal (and how to do it anyway).
It only looks ridiculous from the outside.
"She got the worst of the abuse." When my husband finally said those words out loud, I felt both validated and furious. Mainly because I'd spent years denying what it really was.
They came with bags of clothes reeking of neglect and a belief that "home" meant holes in walls from fists and bullets—how do you compete with dysfunction when it's all a child has ever known?
After two and a half years, I have zero regets how this is ending. Meanwhile, the need for hypervigilance is finally ending, and I have no idea who I am without it.
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