The Promise to Myself

| This is the 186th story of Our Life Logs | When people look at me, they see a happy woman, slow to take and quick to give. What they don’t know is the harsh truth under this smile. I was born on June 27, 1969 in Chicago, Illinois and lived with two loving parents and an older brother. I stayed there up until the age … Continue reading The Promise to Myself

The Courage to Leave

| This is the 165th story of Our Life Logs | After trying to have a child for fifteen years with no success, my parents had grown desperate and immigrated from Britain to the state of Utah in the US in the late 1960s. At the time, Utah was a leader in the emerging technology of fertility treatments. And I guess it worked because there … Continue reading The Courage to Leave

Away from the Past

| This is the 130th story of Our Life Logs | My life started in an inner-city neighborhood of Columbus, Ohio. Today it has become a revamped, artsy district, but when I was born in 1987, it was a place full of gangs, violence, and drugs. I thought I was going to overcome the inevitable and never touch that side of life. It turns out that … Continue reading Away from the Past

Dealing from the Bottom

| This is the 114th story of Our Life Logs | Let me take you back to when I was just six years old. My chronic asthma was a plague against my childhood, as I was in the hospital more often than I was in school. It swindled countless opportunities of social interaction, of fitting in, of making friends. It’s 1986, in Melbourne, Australia, and I’m … Continue reading Dealing from the Bottom

Despite the Fear

| This is the 99th story of Our Life Logs | I’m a native New Yorker of the Upper East Side, born in January of 1956. My parents gave me a lot of freedom, and I took advantage of that. New York City was full of possibilities for a young man looking for himself. I could go into the city and be whoever I wanted … Continue reading Despite the Fear

Not Broken Yet

| This is the 89th story of Our Life Logs | My parents fought throughout my whole childhood. The very first memory I have is sitting in a car seat by the front door while my parents screamed through the house. We lived in a typical Midwestern American suburb in the early 1990s with manicured lawns and fancy cars in each drive way. My neighborhood … Continue reading Not Broken Yet