When I Decided to Stop Drowning

| This is the 293rd story of Our Life Logs | My childhood was a tangled mess of emotions that I still have a difficult time unraveling. There were some good memories. I was born August 29, 1980, in Fredericksburg, Virginia, and remember many gleeful summer trips to Mississippi with my parents and my older brother Kevin. Those trips were full of laughter, love, good food, … Continue reading When I Decided to Stop Drowning

Weed Barons

| This is the 288th story of Our Life Logs | My father started his own technology business at the age of 25 in his parents’ basement, which he grew into a multi-million-dollar company. Entrepreneurship is in my blood. And as they say, the American Dream is to do better than your parents. What they don’t say is what you’ll find out along the way. I’m … Continue reading Weed Barons

Words That Heal

| This is the 262nd story of Our Life Logs | Trace all our sketches, all our etches in time, some hold all our reasons, some only a rhyme. —“untitled” by John Stalter I was raised through the ’90s in Midwestern Minnesota by parents born in the ’60s, two upstanding, conservative Christians who worked their way into a larger piece of the pie thanks to their … Continue reading Words That Heal

It All Became Clear

| This is the 246th story of Our Life Logs | On March 16th, 1993, I was born and became another inconvenience to add to my parents’ list. My father left my hometown of Harrison, Arkansas when I was still a baby and never came back to us, and my mother’s on-again-off-again relationship with drugs eventually had me living with my maternal grandparents by age three. … Continue reading It All Became Clear

The Wound Is Where the Light Comes In

| This is the 239th story of Our Life Logs | Being the granddaughter of a famed, yet tormented writer is both a blessing and a curse. My grandmother and the other women in my line have been deemed mentally unstable, depressive, and worse. I am the only one not to have been electroshocked or institutionalized, yet many times in my life, I have thought that … Continue reading The Wound Is Where the Light Comes In

The Thinnest of Threads

| This is the 235th story of Our Life Logs | I’ve always heard people say that nothing good ever happens after midnight. For the longest time I found that to be true of my birth. Born an hour and thirteen minutes into December 13th, 1986, the temperature afforded my welcome a mere ten degrees. In Claremont, New Hampshire that morning I joined a union equally … Continue reading The Thinnest of Threads