It’s funny to think of my predilection in terms of identity considering my early origins. I’ve been drawn to silky fabrics for as far back as I can remember, and that draw has been responsible for many many purchases. Yet I suffer absolutely no buyer’s remorse. One exceptionally stressful day, I discovered that to call it a fetish was highly dismissive. I shrugged off all the clothes that I had endured the day in, hid inside a pretty and feminine garment and just...escaped. I’ve never been dysphoric, nor to I have any misconceptions of the hardships of the fairer sex. But to spend a few hours without the societal expectation of masculinity, bravado, and allowed to be tender, peaceful, thoughtful – it’s therapy. The addition of the word “fluid” to the lexicon of gender finally allows me a place to be.

I started drinking when my mom left us kids with our dad. My first time in rehab was when I was 21, and I’ve been in and out of rehab three times since then. Right now, I’m in an outpatient program, and we’re actually talking about identity. We don’t really know who we are without the alcohol. Truthfully, I also don’t know who I am without a man in my life. I tend to take on the personality of the guy I’m with – if he likes baseball, I get into baseball. If he likes snowboarding, I get into that, too. I don’t know where I start and they begin.

Some physical, emotional, and mental; it really didn’t matter since there wasn’t really a winner, more just an opportunity to learn something, I have been battered, but I am not broken. I have been ripped in two (at least one time by a medical professional), and sewn back together. I am scarred, but not damaged. Each of these scars has a beginning, a middle, and an end, but none of them define me. People say tattoos are personal. Well, these are one of a kind – just like me.

I like to juxtapose objects in my art to either make the viewer uncomfortable or to bring awareness to the viewer. I want to make it into the Guinness World Records for the number of tattoos on my feet. I also have an Instagram account @jail_feet where I take risqué photos and videos of my feet, but just within the realm of decency. I now have over 3,000 followers and was featured on the Top 10 Weirdest Accounts on Instagram. It’s funny that I appeal to the foot fetishists of the Instagram world, but I don’t have a foot fetish myself. I just love the psychology behind it all.

It wasn't our plan as grandparents to have an adult son and his daughter living with us for an extended period of time. After all, we had been married almost 30 years and it was “our turn.” When your child needs help and is a single father, of course you help. We get tired, have our differences and, there are days we just want the house to ourselves; but it's about Ava. My hope is her life will be a bit richer having lived with Grandma & Grandpa. Maybe she will remember playing with Grandpa, Grandma braiding her hair or the nightly family meals with Dad, Grandma and Grandpa. Whatever she remembers, I hope we made a difference in this beautiful child's life.

It wasn’t until high school when we both matured enough and realized we had to rely on each other to get through the day to day at home. I didn’t see as much as he did, being the youngest, a girl, and he shared a room with our violent older brother. In a way, I was protected from a lot of that.

Our friends joke that we’re a little too close, like it’s unnatural. I think part of it is because they’re guys and of course we’re going to pick on each other. But I also think it’s because they don’t know what it’s like to grow up like we have. They don’t know what it means to hide a lot of the pain from your friends, but your sister knows. She hides her pain, too.

My mom was a single mother of 5 and worked whatever jobs she could find to feed us and pay the rent; medical insurance was never even a possibility. So this condition was not addressed until I was a sophomore in high school, but by then I already had a 72° curvature, chronic pain, and difficulty breathing.

My family is a military family – everyone has served. When I was a kid, I expected that I would also join, put in my time, and move on. Hopefully, I would have learned a skill along the way and could then better myself. But I was listed as 4-F, ineligible to serve. Scoliosis and these scars put me in a strange limbo of having absolutely not planned for this eventuality. In the end, I opted for art, which seems like such an unlikely outcome from what I had originally planned.

My older brother is autistic and has anger issues. It’s been hard growing up with him in the house. My parents spent a lot of time and resources to help him, and my younger sister and I felt alone most of our lives. It got better when my parents found him a healthy living environment where he could get around the clock care. Unfortunately, that place closed down a couple of years ago.

I sunk into a depression in high school when he returned home. He broke into our parents’ liquor cabinet and got drunk. Cursing and throwing things, he punched holes into my bedroom door. My mother had to call the police. Imagine having to call the police on your own child.

He’s in another group home now, and he seems really happy there. I love him because he’s my older brother, but it feels impossible to live with him.

This time I am told that not only is it not a mole but a variety of cancer that I have never even heard of with an 80% mortality rate. So, I started saying goodbye. I wrote letters to friends and family. I withdrew from everyone, including my husband.

The CT scan showed no real evidence of lymph involvement! The tumor was removed and nothing but a scar left behind. Because of the rarity they don’t know with any predictability whether it will come back so I will need a full body scan every 6 months for the rest of my life.

This scar should be bigger. It really should. It changed everything about how I view the world and my place in it. I will no longer let the opportunity pass to show the people in my life how much I love them. I am shedding demons from my past because they don’t matter. I told my husband that it didn’t spread because I have magic and magic has to be shared and used to make an impact. I am actively making plans to ensure that the time I have left in this life will be impactful.