I used to be an abused, suicidal insecurity addict basketcase. Now I'm a happy insecurity addict basketcase who wrote a memoir so others can learn from my dumb mistakes.
“Six months later, I was poor, pregnant, and married to a man who read Dogfu**er magazine.”
“We're nobody's dirty little secret.”
“You have a manure pile of memories. Nothing you can do about that. Now, you can drown in the stink, or turn it into compost and grow a garden.”
“Whenever Insecurity whispers In your ear, telling you how much you suck, tell it to shut the hell up. Then keep going forward anyway.”
“I used to teach at an abused children's home. I told the kids, "You all have a manure pile of memories. Nothing you can do about that. Now you can drown in the stink or turn it into compost and grow a garden. I wouldn't't be as good a teacher to you if I didn't know what you're going through. That way, I make my memories do good instead of letting them eat me. I'm like Herbie from Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. I pulled my Bumble's teeth. He's still big and scary but he can't bite me anymore.”
“Have you ever gotten to a point where you looked at your own life, thought "Fu** this," and reached for the economy-sized Valium? Ah, suicide. So dark and seductive.”
“Become your own soulmate. Then you'll always have someone watching your back, and you'll always have someone who loves you.”