Raised faux-religiously (in a catholic school by convenience of neighborhood, I loved the plaid, I wanted to do Eucharist but my mom explained I wasn't Catholic, so I got by with Hymns and Cursive) by my two gay moms and some extra kids in Spokane, homeschooled later (seriously religiously, Vacation Bible School, NO HARRY POTTER and no saying 'stupid', a lot of neighborhood scootering) by uncle auntie and my two home-made and hilarious cousins (siblings) in Nevada, another private school in the Wild West with my grandpa and grandma (maybe religiously? they took me out to dinner religiously). and scattered across the West, Mid-West and South for all of this growing up business. Public schools majorly interwoven and equally traumatizing in between states.
One school in Florida was known for fist fights and head lice. I kissed my first boy there. I left for summer vacation and never came back.
I had been squeezed in-between the palms of each coast for high school (midwest). I popped like a pimple and broke some major skin. Suicide 'attempt' x3 (cry for help, hormones). They say you don't want to die.. you really want to start living. Recovery was like the smoothest, satisfying shaving... not a scratch since. Met Molly, Lucy, Mary before moving again. Left them behind too.
Now gliding along the West Coast in Academia's matrix. Politics and civic engagement. Clean. In the Heart of the City. Biking with helmets, shoebox studio apartment, nose in book, nose in food. Day job with a class of kids who I love and who love me. Space to grow, assess, reshape. Optimism. Peace.