Looking Back

I’ve always existed at the nexus of the American dream falling apart. I was eight when my parents were going through a separation which slowly led to a divorce ten years later. The marriage hadn’t been healthy since I could remember but we were all holding on to some semblance of what we thought was the thing we had to do; the way it had to look.

My sisters and I were very much entrenched in that dream and the privilege of being set up for success in the future. My parents handed me quite a bit, but there was always something about it that felt like complete bullshit. The structure was crumbling and I was just trying to make it out alive. It took me a long time to make sense of it all. I still wrangle with it.