I never expected to outgrow the shame and insecurity developed during my tween and teen years. A shame that had latched on to me like an insatiable tick- sucking any ounce of self-assurance that dared to manifest.
The only happy childhood memories I have are of pageants. My mother dressing me up in bows and lace. And memories of her taking me to Church. Especially when she permitted to sleep over at the youth lock-ins.
Soon after that, though, things weren’t so good.
I don’t want to bore you with a tired ol’ tale of growing up in poverty. Residing in a singlewide, being fed on food stamps, playing with donated toys, and wondering why my mother couldn’t do any better than 2 minimum wage jobs.