As I sit on my porch today, coffee in hand, I can still see that little girl on the picnic table staring at the lake — wondering “Why me?”
What I didn’t realize then was that those tears were shaping the writer I would become. Pain teaches empathy, and memory is the ink that keeps our stories alive.
Writing Living Crazy Like Fly wasn’t just about revisiting the past; it was about honoring it. Every scar, every laugh, every late-night escape with my friends — all of it molded me into someone who could finally say, I made it through.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that remembering doesn’t mean reliving. It means reclaiming your power.
So, what’s your story? Maybe it’s time to write it down.
