I'm doing well...considering

I got asked today via email about my childhood. I stated it fairly briefly:

Well, I'm the youngest of two boys. Actually, I was born (on my brother's fourth birthday) and raised in Fort Smith, Arkansas. My mom builds stained glass windows, my father was a constuction worker.

There's a lot about my childhood I can't remember. My father passed away when I was 12, and I've blocked a lot of stuff out. It's a shame, really. My mom is always telling me what a happy childhood I had.

My mom remarried about 11 years ago and she and my stepdad live in Little Rock, as does my brother and his family. I also have a step-brother that I don't speak to that often (but that's another story).

Then, a while later in a new email, I gave more detail:

My mom was an artist, and it was just natural for me to follow in her footsteps. Graphic design was the most practical choice on that front. It's a nice mix of artistic talent and technical skill. I had considered studying theater, maybe teaching, but for the most part, I really didn't think much about my future when I was younger. I was lost for a while during my teenage years.


Honestly, now that I think about it, I was more than lost. For about two years, I didn't expect to live beyond the age of 20. I think a lot of other people thought the same thing, including my mom. I think a lot of the pride she has in me stems from the fact that one day I turned off the Cure, stepped out from under that cloud I had been under for so long.

I've come a long way since those days. It took me a few years of trial and error to adjust to haviing friends, developing trust in others, and my still-ongoing battle with cynicism. More and more each day, I feel like I'm coming into my own. I'm living up to the potential so many people thought I was failing to live up to thirteen years ago.

Thanks for having faith in me, mom.