06/18/2026
My Story: Why This Session Matters
Tomorrow, I'll be sharing a gallery unlike anything I've ever created.
Before I share her story, I think it's only fair that I share mine.
I was born in the late 70s and raised in the 80s by an incredible single mother. She worked hard, sacrificed everything, and somehow managed to give me a good childhood despite the challenges she faced.
But back then, being a single mother carried a stigma.
People judged her.
And because they judged her, they judged me.
Even as a young child, I learned what it felt like to be different. To be the outsider. To be the child people whispered about.
Sometimes the comments came from other children. Sometimes they came from adults.
Sometimes they came from people sitting in church pews on Sunday mornings.
I also struggled with my weight growing up, which only added another target to my back.
Bullying became a part of my life long before I ever understood what the word meant.
For most of my childhood, I attended school with the same group of kids, and while there were certainly challenges, we weren't cruel... and all of our parents knew each other. And well, they didn't play.
At 16, I lost my grandmother.
She was my rock. My safe place. My hero.
After her passing, my mother and I moved into her home, which meant I had no choice but to go to the county schools.
What happened next changed the course of my life.
The bullying became relentless.
I was threatened.
I was harassed.
I was physically attacked.
I would be kneeling at my locker when someone would tap me on the shoulder, only to kick me in the face.
My car was keyed.
Anonymous notes were left in my locker saying the cruelest things.
Death threats became a regular occurrence.
People would get off at my bus stop just to jump me.
And every day, I was expected to come back and do it all over again.
I was a gifted student.
I had been in gifted programs since kindergarten.
I was an honors student.
I had won recognition as a Who's Who Among American High School Students recipient for two consecutive years... which less than 1% of students ever achieved.
I had already been invited to attend the University of Georgia.
I dreamed of becoming an attorney.
I dreamed of one day serving on the Supreme Court.
I had plans.
Big plans.
But eventually, the weight of what I was experiencing became too much.
I would get ready for school.
Get in my car.
Drive all the way there.
And then drive right past it because I simply could not make myself walk through those doors.
I wasn't skipping because I didn't care.
I was surviving.
My mother and I begged for help.
We brought evidence.
Police reports.
Photographs.
Documentation.
But too often, we were told it couldn't be proven, couldn't be stopped, or somehow must have been my fault.
At one point, a school administrator looked at me and said:
"Maybe it would be best if you just quit. This school is obviously not for you."
And eventually, I did.
Not because I wasn't capable.
Not because I wasn't intelligent.
Not because I didn't have dreams.
But because I was exhausted.
Because I was broken.
Because I had spent years fighting battles no child should ever have to fight.
The school board ultimately allowed me to take my GED early because of the overwhelming evidence surrounding my situation.
I passed with one of the highest scores in the state.
The ability was never the problem.
The bullying was.
And while I eventually built a beautiful life, the scars remained.
Even decades later.
I almost believed the lies.
I almost believed that I wasn't worthy, that I didn't belong, that the world would somehow be better without me in it.
The bullying didn't just affect my high school years. It affected my self-worth, my confidence, my dreams, and the way I saw myself for many years afterward.
And if I'm being honest, there were moments when I didn't know if I could keep going.
But I'm so grateful that I did.
Because the people who tried to define me were wrong.
They didn't get the final say.
And the people who hurt you don't get the final say in your story either.
If you're reading this and you're struggling—whether you're a child, a teenager, or an adult carrying wounds from years ago—I want you to know that you are not alone.
You are seen.
You are valued.
You are worthy of love, kindness, and belonging exactly as you are.
My inbox is always a safe place to land. If you need someone to listen, to pray, to encourage you, or simply to remind you that your life matters, please reach out.
And if you are struggling with thoughts of self-harm or su***de, please don't carry that burden alone. Call or text 988, the Su***de & Crisis Lifeline, anytime, 24 hours a day.
There is someone there who wants to help.
The world is better with you in it.
I know that because there was a time I almost didn't stay long enough to find out.
Music courtesy of The GooGoo Dolls - Name
