Childhood
A Psychologist Called Me A Sociopath When I Was 4
The place was hunter green and tan, and everything was too big - that's my memory of the office, all I can drum up through the haze of early childhood. No one bothered to tell me where we were or why - concepts that would only be lost on a four year-old. So I busied myself as best I could until it was my turn to go into the office, the smaller one.
By Andrew Johnston5 years ago in Confessions
When I Write, I am Home
It may sound cliché to say that writing is the thing that gives me inner peace. Especially when I’m writing about it to enter a challenge. Still, cliché as it may be, writing is what both calms and stimulates my brain. Putting a pen to paper or fingers to a keyboard helps breath life back into my weary body and burnt-out brain.
By Midwest Mama5 years ago in Confessions
Adventures in Fantasyland
I don’t remember what my parents read to me as a small child because that was over 50 years ago. After the basic beginning readers, books like See Spot Run or Jack and Jill, my parents probably read to me the usual tales of the times. I am sure I was read the standard fare for a kid of the 60’s- Dr. Seuss, Shel Silverstein, and Raold Dahl (who wrote great books like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory). But as soon as I could comprehend stories on my own, I became an avid reader of the books of my choice. We moved a lot when I was a child, so the fantastical worlds and the interesting characters in the books became my best friends. Always being the new kid in town, I never had many children to play with, so I kept to myself and my stories. The library was my favorite place wherever we went. I was definitely one of those kids who hid under the blanket with my flashlight to keep reading my latest book past my bedtime. And oh the wonderful places they took me, and what great inspirations to my imagination they were.
By Janet Freedland5 years ago in Confessions
That is How the Cookie Crumbles
As I clutched my gingerbread house with both hands, I realized that I didn't take into account the weight of my creation for my short walk home. After a fun night of Christmas decorating at my friend's house, I was more tired than I realized and ready to get home. My eyes scanned over Plieningerstraße, the road leading to my building in Frankfurt, Germany. I noticed the guard letting a car pass through the gate as I trudged on to the last apartment in our complex.
By Corinne Jenkins5 years ago in Confessions
Death Around Every Corner
I feel like I always knew what death was. My parents never had to have a scary, sad conversation with me as to what exactly happens when you die. I think this was partially because my parents knew so many dead people. I would point to a picture and ask who it was. They would tell me who and they they were dead. They were gone forever and I would never see them. That was fine. I was far to young to wish I had met them. I was also too young to feel sad about it, so that didn't really matter. I knew what death was. That's all. Except, that wasn't all. Now I knew I would die, and I have never had a day go by where I don't think about it.
By Kristina Silva5 years ago in Confessions
My Passion, My Voice, My Path To Inner Peace
Back, way back, when I was a wee lad, I dared to dream of being an artist. Yes, it's a big dream. Imagine having art collected around the world. That's a tall order. I tell you what, though, I'm sure glad little me wasn't afraid to dream big. Fast forward to today and you'll find I did become an artist with work collected around the world. It's an amazing life I lead. But, alas, it's not all fairytales and gumdrops.
By Carl Parker5 years ago in Confessions
How I Discovered ASMR
When I was younger, I would sleep with my parents and occasionally ask my mom to tell me a story. These stories were adventure stories that combined my love of animals and my dream of exploring with something to calm me down. They involved me as a grown-up adventurer, Indiana Jones-style, exploring the world searching for the most unique animals on the planet. This adventurer would travel the African landscapes, the North American deserts, and the South American rainforests looking for the most beautiful creatures on the planet. Sometimes, I would even chime in my own personal ideas as to where the story could go. I honestly don't remember a whole ton from many of these stories, but there's one element that I do remember that stuck with me forever.
By Jamie Lammers5 years ago in Confessions
My Crooked Story
Disclaimer: The following story includes triggers such as hospital anxiety, malpractice, and acts of violence. This story is intended to inform and not discriminate against hospital staff. Just a family passed down story of my childhood that I think is a bit too ridiculous not to share.
By Crystal L.5 years ago in Confessions
The T-Rex Buried in Your Backyard
When you’re a kid, you hear that you’re going to be an adult someday. But you don’t know it, not really. Because when you’re a kid, time stands still. Do you remember how long the space between Christmases used to be? That’s because time works differently for kids. They live in their own little eternity.
By Conor McCammon5 years ago in Confessions
The Misfortune of the Twelve Maidens
We all know that when we were kids, we had some stories that we used to sing and to use when playing the rubber band game or jump rope. But we never thought about the lyrics when singing them. Most of them are so dark and deep that I don’t even know how come didn’t notice what we were saying. Worst! We even find them funny because of the dark and disturbing parts! Oh, that’s called innocence. We did know the words; therefore, we did know what they meant. But did we ever take the time to reflect on those disturbing actions?
By Sofia Duarte5 years ago in Confessions
Hobble Gobble Gumpling Land
‘Hobble Gobble Gumpling Land. You can go there if you are lucky enough to have been chosen by the fairies – but, only if you are one of the best kids in existence. You see, only one girl and one boy get to go each year and they are selected because they are smart, courageous and strong.’ I pause, relishing the look of delight on the faces of my third-grade students as I retell the story my dad created.
By Jay Bird5 years ago in Confessions
