I thought it would be easy. It’s one of the most natural thing that we can do as humans is procreate. Every part of it shows the true magic that we are as human beings. My mom reminded me that she didn’t have any issues getting pregnant with me nor my bother, so  there was no reason I should… 

It wasn’t until I stepped away for a “sabbatical” the summer of 2024 that I realized how addicted I was to the stress, anxiety, and pure chaos that was the pharmaceutical research industry. I had spent the past 14 years building a career purely driven by the need to be recognized, admired, and in control. I was part of an industry that is driven by exploitation of resources and greed. Because I was so hell bent on being the “perfect” employee I was an easy target. I have lived my life feeding off the compliments of others, the admiration of others to get me through because my inner voice was so harsh. I needed to not only meet my metrics, but beat them. I needed to be able to juggle more than anyone else. I needed to respond to everyone not only within the deadline, but early. I couldn’t be on-time for the meeting, I had to be 5 minutes early whenever possible. I didn’t miss a timesheet, a training, nothing. I was as perfect as one can be. Any time I made a mistake I would allow it to consume me. It would overtake my mind completely. I would run scenario after scenario of how I would loose my job or what people would think of me because I made a mistake. I would imagine that they thought I was the worst employee and person they had ever worked with and they hated me. 

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to have my own family, wanted to be a mom. I never dreamed of my wedding like many others I know. Instead I dreamed of having the type of families I saw on TV or like my friends had. The families with both parents in the house, 2 kids, who loved spending time together in a safe, loving, supportive environment. 

A means of survival at one point, I learned early on that pretending to be someone I wasn’t was the safest course of action. I could get into the astrology or the psychology of it all, but in the end it all boils down to the fact that it was for my own comfort. The mask was for my own protection. The mask helped keep me comfortable in a world in which I’ve never really felt as if I belonged. 

I’ve been snow skiing since I was five years old. I was blessed each winter from the time I was seven or eight with a season pass as we lived all of five minutes from one of the local mountains. Growing up I would spend my entire weekend and every weeknight on the snow. I taught ski lessons through high school and volunteered with special olympics for 3 years. Nothing made me feel as free growing up than flying down the mountain on my skis and I was good at it. 

“You’ll be lucky to find anyone that will put up with you!”… It was something I was told regularly by my mother growing up. I had a lot of anger as a child. It led to a lot of rage filled fights and in the end I was always told it was me that was the difficult one and that I was hard to love. Something I have carried into every romantic and platonic relationship I have ever had. 

I was fifteen, it was my freshman year of high school. I was dating a junior, someone I knew from the ski mountain- a place I spent most of my time in the winter as a child. This particular day was a snow day so we had no school. My mom had dropped me off at the mountain before she headed off to work and would pick me up between day and night session for dinner. He showed up not long after with some liquor, a few joints and a plan for us for the day… 

I grew up in the 80s & 90s. A time when we as kids were allowed a lot more freedom. A time when many of us were told just to be home when the street lights came on. A time without cell phones for our parents to track us on. A time where people were trusted. I don’t know if the world is really more unsafe now or we just have access to so much information that we can see how many people unsafe are really out there. Either way, it was a different time with different rules and I know that I am lucky to have escaped what could have been true hell based on all that we see on the news… 

My mom started dating him a few years after my parents divorce. By this time we had moved into a new house, one that allowed me to walk to and from school and to the park. I don’t know how they met, but after a while he moved into our house and that’s when things started to change. He was a full-time painter and drunk. The keg moved into our basement not longer after him. 

It’s something far too many children have to experience. It’s hard to be the string that connects them when they no longer want to be…

We all have them, our stories. The times in our lives that are meaningful to us because they were special or impactful or funny or traumatic. The memories that create a deep imprint that we can implant ourselves back there almost as if it was yesterday.

*trigger warning SA & suicide*

Dear God(ess)-

I’m in the midst of reading my 3rd book from Rebecca Campbell ‘Light is the New Black’, I went backwards so now reading her first book last. There was a prompt a few days ago to write a letter to you. I usually do the prompts as I go one by one before moving on, but this one I saw and just kept moving. Knowing I would eventually come back to it, but not until I was ready. I’m scared to write this letter to you. I have felt abandoned and disconnected from you most of my life. I’ve had reason to pray, but I never heard you answer. Was I asking the wrong questions? Was I not good enough? Growing up in the Episcopal church and being surrounded by Southern Baptist gave me quite a complex about doing right by you or else. Or else what? This wasn’t what I knew, what I remembered, this “man” who required obedience. Did I not remember correctly?

I’ve felt called for a while now to write my story. In many ways to write it for myself, to get it out of my body to help with my healing. But also to share with others who have experienced similar situations to know they are not alone. To share my deepest, darkest times and how I found my way out of them again. I’ve sat down now and started a book about my life twice and each time been completely overwhelmed by the process which sucks my creativity right out of me. My solution to that is this blog. Whether it reaches 1 person, 10 people or thousands of people- I know that it will go where it is meant to and help those I am meant to help along the way. I trust the process and in that let go of my idea of what it means to be a writer and instead I will just write…