“I had never smoked a cigarette, never drank a beer, never had a real boyfriend. I was a naïve, 17-year-old virgin. I went to a party with my friends. I paid the guy at the door $5 dollars. ‘The punch is in the kitchen. Don’t lose your cup.’ I was found on steps, lying in a pool of vomit. I fell off the Dean’s List. Then I met the man I would marry. I had a front-row seat to the most terrifying horror show imaginable. I was penniless, homeless, trickin’ on Main South for a 40 piece.”
“My doctor told me, ‘Your weight is why you lost your baby.’ I was destroyed. My weight was the reason my marriage ended and it was also the reason I miscarried. My ex-husband even went as far to accuse me of making up the entire pregnancy. I lost my love, my child, and myself that year.”
“Unsolicited, I have been ‘advised’ on my body art. I’ve been asked, in horror, ‘What will you tell your kids?’ I’ll tell them what my tattoos mean to me, and when they’re older, they can get tattoos if they want them. ‘You’re inviting people to judge you.’ Actually no, I’m not. ‘Can you get a job with those?’ Firstly, none of your business. Secondly, yes. Then there are the people who find my tattoos TOO appealing. ‘Where ELSE are you inked?’ ‘So, you like pain, huh?’ ‘Wanna see MY tattoo?’ Seriously, be less sleazy.”
“I woke up with blood-shot eyes. Everything was a blur. ‘This is going to go away. It can’t get worse.’ This is when my eyesight started to deteriorate. Here I was, 26 years old, a month before my dream wedding day. I had the most beautiful wedding dress, and desperately wanted to look good in my wedding photos. ‘How could this be happening to me?’ I was so angry at the world.”
“I am not a good cook or a great hostess. I often wonder if I’m doing it all right. You’ll find me making bulk Mac and Cheese in gym shorts and t-shirts, un-showered or made up. The couch is sometimes dirty and it gets too crowded at times. And yet, no one cares. All anyone really needs is a heart that says, ‘Welcome, you’re important here.’ THAT is the gift you offer when you open up your home.”
“As my belly grew, I began being asked the ‘Is this your first?’ question by anyone, from the cashier at Target to the waitress while out for dinner. My answer was, ‘No, this is my second. My first child died.’ You could tell by the uncomfortable look on their faces that my response was always unexpected, met with pity and also toxic positivity. I already WAS a mother.”
“I was on parole with a daughter on the way. I smoked it. I was so delusional I believed if I didn’t inject it, I wouldn’t become addicted. I was so numb to the world, digging myself into my misery with each high. One night, I was in a drug-induced haze and the most incredible thing happened. Brittany’s water broke. She was in labor.”
“I asked to be put on medication. My doctor said to me, ‘Are you sure it’s not just the pressure of Christmas?’ ‘NO!’ I wanted to scream, ‘This is why mothers don’t speak out. Because people belittle us. They tell us to cope.’ I was so angry. I accepted the prescription and left. I knew I needed to do something more than medication. I felt like the worst mom ever.”
“‘Do you have any crushes on girls in your class?’ It was hard to get away with answering ‘no.’ I thought of sending myself to conversion therapy. We couldn’t understand why we weren’t sexually attracted to women. Having this picture embedded in our heads of a hyper-masculine culture messed us up. We knew sooner or later something, or someone, would have to give.”
“The electricity had been turned off. I was enrolled in Cosmetology school, but hadn’t gone in weeks. I was so tired. My grandparents were on vacation, so I thought I’d go to their house and shower. My intentions were good. I sat in their shower for what felt like an eternity. I remember each individual drop of water hitting my body as I cried out to die. I was fighting the demons, doomed to lose. I lost that day. I didn’t go to school. Instead, I stole $7,000 worth of jewelry from my grandmother.”
