When I decided to move all 400 of my old posts back onto the website (yes… four hundred… I’m still tired), I stumbled across my second-ever post. My little “about me” moment. My baby blogger era. The pink‑notebook‑Walgreens‑waiting‑room era.
I remember writing it so clearly. Emily had the flu, I was sitting in that tiny walk‑in clinic, and this adorable pink notebook basically threw itself into my hands. I bought it, grabbed some pens, and wrote that whole post right there while she was being seen.
And reading it now?
Some of it still feels true.
A lot of it… yeah, no. Life had other plans.
So let’s look back, rewrite, and honor both versions of me the girl who wrote it and the woman who survived everything that came after.
👶 Baby Me — The Blonde Baldie Era
I was born in October 1997, bald as a cue ball until around age four. My hair was so blonde it basically blended into my skin, so everyone just assumed I was bald forever. My family taped bows to my head like I was a Build‑A‑Bear, trying to convince the world I was, in fact, a girl.
But honestly? I had a good childhood in the basic‑needs sense. I had a roof over my head, food in the fridge, and people who cared for me. I didn’t understand my dad’s anger issues until I was older around ten and even then, I had no idea how bad it would eventually get for me in high school.
Most weekends, I was at my tia’s house anyway. Sarah had her cousin, Emily had the others, and I spent my time with my abuela. That was my world.
My abuela was my safe place.
My comfort‑show partner.
My “Monk and Murder, She Wrote” buddy.
That’s all we did watched our shows, worked on puzzles, and played Nancy Drew games for hours. It was simple, cozy, and exactly what I needed.
I was happy. I really was. And reading that part back now, I can still feel that little girl the one who didn’t know what was coming, but who found joy in the smallest, softest corners of her life.
👩⚕️ My Parents — The Cringe, The Truth, The Grief
In the original post, I talked about my parents in this very “I’m trying to be okay” way. I wasn’t lying, but I was definitely writing from a place of confusion. I was only a year and a half out from losing my mom, and I hadn’t processed anything. I didn’t even know how to.
My mom was great… until she wasn’t.
She was an RN, and I loved visiting her at work. Everyone knew her. Everyone knew me. I thought she hung the moon.
My dad was a truck driver, then a bus driver. He taught me how to drive, and honestly? He did a good job. I’ll give him that.
But the truth behind all of it was heavier.
In 2013, my mom got sick. We still don’t know what happened. We all had a bad flu, and then suddenly her kidneys failed. Both. I became her caregiver from 14 to 18. I dropped out of high school. I lost every friend I had. I didn’t have a life.
Sarah did.
And I told myself that was fine.
In 2016, she died. And the world cracked open.
👭 My Sisters — Then vs. Now
Ohhh boy. This section aged like milk.
Back then, I wrote about my sisters like we were a normal family with normal ups and downs. Megan lived out of state but visited. Sarah was only 18 months older, which sounds cute until you realize it meant I lived in her shadow constantly. And Emily… well, Emily and I were inseparable. We hung out every day. Fought, sure, but always fixed it within 24 hours.
And then life said “plot twist.”
A lot changed.
A lot.
🌱 What’s Changed Since 2017
Well… I have no sisters now.
There’s that.
There are posts explaining what happened, and honestly? I don’t regret writing any of them. They hate me, and that’s their choice. I moved on and yes, I will absolutely continue to talk about it because if I lived through the trauma, I should at least get content out of it.
But here’s what else changed:
- I got closer to my dad. Like… actually close.
- I started putting myself first for the first time in my life.
- My abuela died in 2018, and it broke me. But it also brought Izzy into my life in a real way. She started coming to family dinners, then hanging out with me and Emily, and then slowly she became my person.
- In 2023, my grandmother died. We had our issues, but she shaped so much of my childhood. Losing her hurt more than I expected.
And through all of that, I kept growing. Kept writing. Kept surviving.
🌅 Nine Years Later
A lot has changed since 2017.
I’ve lost people I never thought I’d lose.
I’ve grieved versions of myself I didn’t know I was allowed to let go of.
I’ve watched entire chapters close sometimes gently, sometimes like a door slammed in my face.
But I’ve also gained people who feel like home.
I’ve built a life that finally feels like mine.
I’ve learned how to choose myself without apologizing.
The girl who wrote that pink‑notebook post had no idea what was coming.
But the woman rewriting it now?
She’s stronger, softer, smarter, and finally free.
Heres the link to the only post from 2017. if you want to read!
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