Story became a resource of its own. It's something you can use to manipulate or control other people and the things that they think, feel, or do.

Less and less do I think of it as a vehicle for telling the truth.

So when someone else writes a story that is a story about me and who I am or who I'm not and what I did and what I did not do, I'm probably going to be influenced by it.

It was really hard to grow up with a mom who had a strong story about who I was and what that meant. It was hard not to internalize it. It's hard when I don't get a response when I try to explain myself; it's not fair to walk through the world feeling like I need to explain myself in the first place. It's not fair to keep secrets, it's not fair to let others get away with things they should not do, it's not fair to think I can take everything all upon myself and keep going.

It's really hard to stop loving someone when you are a loving person. It's really hard to stop loving someone when who you are is really informed by that relationship.

It's really brutal when the story you encounter about yourself is a story that you aren't loving or that you have intentions that aren't what they actually are.

Part of the story I always encountered is that saying anything is a bad thing. It's taken a long time to become someone who is okay with taking risks again. It's tempting to undercut everything I do and trash it. I don't regret trashing all my past projects because it helped show me that part of my relationship to my creative work was coming from that relationship with my mom. I was not a creative project, I was a kid.

I grew up in a strict religious environment. Everything I ever wanted pretty much amounted to "not Christian stuff." When I got married, I thought I was free but what actually happened is that the roots got exposed.

It's funny, sitting here now, I realize that this could be the usual kind of day where I make stuff and then put it away for later, or this could be the kind of day where I make stuff and then just put it out there again, like I used to.

My ex-husband is kind of a schemer. He likes to think in terms of creative projects that will interest him and others. I have dreams about him sometimes and the dreams are usually the same – he's walking away, or doesn't care, or is involved elsewhere.

I tried really hard to be like him. I'm a really good mimic. It's one of those things that comes with growing up in a place where you gotta go to church and do all the stuff and never show your real self. I went on many adventures with him.

I had a little dog that I got when we were separated. I'd never had a dog before but I knew it was in me to try. I make drawings of this little dog sometimes because I miss her and it's been hard to talk about with anybody.

I know that for a lot of people, their animals represent a lost innocence, or maybe the part that is still innocent. I was talking with myself once about what had happened, what was going on when I was willing to leave my marriage. Jordan and I had gone as Hannibal and Clarice one Halloween. Thinking of my little dog, the thought came: I took the lamb and I ran.