Even though the story I depicted in “In the Shadow of a Genius” was built on truth and facts I couldn’t change, there was still much in my own story I had power over. My attitude towards what had happened slowly began to change. It took many years but one day it was there. The hopeful ending. That which I had struggled to find for so many years suddenly felt obvious and completely natural to write. Read more.
An autumn day, twenty one years ago, I sat watching the old poplars outside my window sway in the wind. I had just turned eighteen. The poplars grew outside the hospital building, outside the psychiatric ward where I was locked up, against my will, because I was considered a danger to myself. Read more.
I was raped as a child. I was raped by my grandfather and later by my stepbrother. This is the first time I write these words publically. I’ve written about being sexually abused before, but I’ve never written “by him and by him” and it still feels like breaking the rules to do so. I am breaking the rules. I’m spilling the secret these men left me to keep, and in doing so, I feel guilty. For exposing them, for making people uncomfortable, for claiming that my side of the story matters at all. But it does matter. Read more.