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(Subrec: retiring the term autofiction)!
Writing about one of the most significant periods of transformation in my life has reminded me of my experiences in EMDR therapy: returning to the moments that shaped me—the sublime, the horrific, and everything in between—not just to relive them, but to recontextualize them. Through this process, I revisit the past, weaving empathy and perspective into old wounds, transforming them into narratives that help me heal rather than haunt me.
Writing this chapter wasn’t easy; even after all the personal work I’ve done, I still hadn’t fully unpacked much of what I explored here. But in the same way EMDR therapy creates new mental pathways, confessional writing allows me to create new emotional pathways. What once felt overwhelming now feels like part of a larger, layered story—a story I get to write on my own terms, with dark humor, empathy, and grace.
This chapter is about the seeds of identity, love, and longing being planted in the soil of a viscerally chaotic and often violent childhood, and the thorned rose that breaks forth out of this poisoned soil, delicate and sharp, a reflection of resilience built in tandem with pain.
Not even my closest friends fully understood the depth of my experiences until I opened up to them recently. Sharing this chapter feels like baring my soul in a way that’s both terrifying and liberating, but after being silent for so long, I believe in the power of raw, confessional storytelling—not just to connect with others, but to heal.
Part 1 introduces the narrator’s restless haze living in her desert hometown one year after high school graduation, working at a twee Wes Anderson-themed restaurant and drifting without direction. A chance encounter with an old acquaintance draws her back into his social circle, sparking a journey into memory. Part 2 delves into the complex history behind this connection, revealing the tangled ties that bind her and the unresolved emotions that shape her path forward.
I’m so excited to share Part 2, ‘Seeds Planted,’ with you. It’s layered and deeply personal—another piece of my journey that I’m honored to offer to you. I’m looking forward to hearing how it speaks to you, or how you’ve found your own ways of recontextualizing the past.
Writing this chapter wasn’t easy; even after all the personal work I’ve done, I still hadn’t fully unpacked much of what I explored here. But in the same way EMDR therapy creates new mental pathways, confessional writing allows me to create new emotional pathways. What once felt overwhelming now feels like part of a larger, layered story—a story I get to write on my own terms, with dark humor, empathy, and grace.
This chapter is about the seeds of identity, love, and longing being planted in the soil of a viscerally chaotic and often violent childhood, and the thorned rose that breaks forth out of this poisoned soil, delicate and sharp, a reflection of resilience built in tandem with pain.
Not even my closest friends fully understood the depth of my experiences until I opened up to them recently. Sharing this chapter feels like baring my soul in a way that’s both terrifying and liberating, but after being silent for so long, I believe in the power of raw, confessional storytelling—not just to connect with others, but to heal.
Part 1 introduces the narrator’s restless haze living in her desert hometown one year after high school graduation, working at a twee Wes Anderson-themed restaurant and drifting without direction. A chance encounter with an old acquaintance draws her back into his social circle, sparking a journey into memory. Part 2 delves into the complex history behind this connection, revealing the tangled ties that bind her and the unresolved emotions that shape her path forward.
I’m so excited to share Part 2, ‘Seeds Planted,’ with you. It’s layered and deeply personal—another piece of my journey that I’m honored to offer to you. I’m looking forward to hearing how it speaks to you, or how you’ve found your own ways of recontextualizing the past.
Jan 12, 2025
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My dad teases me about how when I was a little kid, my favorite thing to do when I was on the landline phone with somebody—be it a relative or one of my best friends—was to breathlessly describe the things that were in my bedroom so that they could have a mental picture of everything I loved and chose to surround myself with, and where I sat at that moment in time. Perfectly Imperfect reminds me of that so thanks for always listening and for sharing with me too 💌
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