I was a clueless kid back then but I always followed my heart; I knew I wanted to be a Writer but I didn't know what that meant, or what my options were. So I became an Editor--it was something that just came naturally to me. Twenty-plus years later, I'm still an Editor. It has served me well, at least in the day-to-day; and when you're in survival mode, just getting through the day is enough. But at roughly the midway mark of my career, and looking up from the precipice of what must have been my 17th relapse, I thought that maybe this was just my destiny, and if so, there simply had to be value in chronicling it. And while my reasons for writing a memoir may have been tenuous and ever-evolving, it was never about catharsis. Instead, by reliving the trauma of my upbringing and the desperation of my youth, I discovered that I had had agency all along, in my own twisted way; and I felt compelled to share that revelation and have spent years searching for a platform to do just that--until I found the Feminine Collective. I invite you to engage therein with this ongoing series of excerpts from my debut memoir, "Constellation of Pleasure: Only the Stars Can Hear Me," a tale unduly tragic, but through which I expect readers will perceive a reflection of themselves to whatever degree, and be empowered.
