08/07/2026
This is my āperfectā family portrait. My dad smiling, dressed to impress, I can imagine him ready to tell a joke to the cameraman. He was always on, the life of the party. My mom is right beside him, trying her damnedest to play her part well. She was more timid and she knew she had to be the good, submissive Christian wifeļæ¼. We were taught to perform and look good at all cost.
When I look at my seven year old face, and my crooked smile, I see a weight in my eyes and a heavy grief on my shoulders. Itās like even then I knew something was off and I wouldnāt fully commit to the lie we were being asked to tell. My body already knew what my brain couldnāt process yet, āthese lies will kill us.ā
My dad buried his deceptions, of drugs, alcohol and cheating on my mom for decades while being a pastor and a vice president of a Christian college. My mom, lonely in a marriage trying everything she could to save my dad. And win his favor. Nothing was ever enough, so she poured herself into her faith because she had little else to hold onto. We went to church nearly five times a week. We looked the part, but we were all dying inside.
What I know now is that my body was the most honest one in the room. I developed severe OCD, and depression. I could not survive the masks that were given to me. Living this familiar lie caught up with me. It showed up in addiction, in a 13-year battle with p**nography, in becoming a duplicitous person just like what Iād grown up watching. It showed up in me checking myself into a psychiatric ward, standing at the edge of wanting to end my own life nearly 25 years ago.
The foundation of an unhealthy life was laid long before I ever made a single choice. I was just a kid in a red shirt learning that the only way to survive was to smile for the camera and fall apart in isolation. I learned that I was the only one I could count on.
I am still untangling these messages today. ļæ¼ But I know now that little boy was good and I trust his deep and sensitive heart.