That Writer Chick
That Writer Chick is an author, essayist, and mother living in Colorado. T.W.C. holds a Master's in Professional Writing and is a Yale University Writer's Workshop Alum. If you love reading her words consider subscribing and leaving a tip.
Confessions Of A 40-Year-Old Tomboy
I’m not girly enough. I have always veered toward all things prescribed as male activities. As a child, I loved Lincoln Logs, Matchbox cars, and action figures. I played video games. I wanted to be an archeologist and travel the world digging up dinosaur bones and discovering lost civilizations. I raced with the boys in the neighborhood, easily outrunning them with my long legs. I enjoyed watching football and hockey, often lamenting the fact that when the boys played those sports, I couldn’t play along. They feared I’d get hurt, but I didn’t care. The scars didn’t bother me. Scars were the evidence of a good time, a game well played.
First Loves and Other Ghosts
You never forget the first time you fall in love, even when you want to. I am no exception. I had just turned eighteen. We met in a Prodigy chat room for nerds who sat up on Friday nights and did that sort of thing. It was a time when Tinder, Match.com, and swiping to the right didn’t exist. I wasn’t afraid of the internet. No monsters were lurking around every corner. There were only people, desirous of a connection, longing to get out of their tiny lives for a moment.
The Friends I Left Behind
The last remaining days of summer before school started were always a flurry of activity. New school shoes, hard, and not eager to be worn in. It would take the entire year and by some sort of strange magic, they would finally become comfortable just in time for a new pair. The plaid uniform came out of the back of my closet where it hung surrounded by tank tops and summer dresses, that were always bought for me but never worn. My uniform always smelled like the last day of school, notebooks, and broken crayons.
I Started Saying No To Sex
I have never been the victim of rape, but I have been a victim of sexual abuse and misconduct. When I think back throughout my life as a woman, or even as a little girl growing into a woman, I have always been at the mercy of little boys taking out their aggressions. I have always been on the receiving end of unwanted affection that I had to accept or make excuses for.
How Grief Works
After the funeral, the life after reschedules itself around your grief and you have no choice but to move along with the passage of time. That’s when grief finds you. The initial shock wears off. The Band-Aid of loss ripped clean from raw flesh so that all that’s left is just you, laid bare for everyone to see.
You Need To Get Over Yourself
Sometimes I like to think that I’m the only one who has ever had it hard. Life can make you feel that way. But it isn’t the truth, not by a long shot. For every story I weave about my disappointments and failures I find that there are a thousand other people who have had it harder.
My Life With Fibromyalgia
I can’t remember the last time I felt normal. The moment, so long ago that I hold it with the same nostalgia that one holds their Christmases of childhood or their college years. I have Fibromyalgia. It’s a chronic illness that causes widespread pain, extreme fatigue, stomach issues, and brain dysfunction.
What I’ve Learned In The Last 40 Years.
There’s something about being at the midpoint of life that has me feeling contemplative. It’s almost like it would be a disservice to myself if I didn’t take the time to look back and review the last forty years of my life to learn from my mistakes as I move forward.
I Took A Gap Year In My Marriage
A gap year is typically used to describe the year high school students take to find themselves. During that time, they work or travel in an effort not only to discover themselves but to figure out what they want to do with their lives. But when we inadvertently applied that same logic to our marriage, it brought us back from almost getting divorced.
In Defense of Valentine’s Day, Sort of
Every February, all of those feelings of rejection and not being good enough come flooding back to me. My hatred of all things romantic started young. I was in elementary school the first time I learned what rejection felt like, and I would repeat it every year until adulthood.
How Not To Be A Douche
The fastest way to get rid of your douchebaggery and become the good human you were meant to be is to be nicer. But nice can be hard to achieve for some people, especially when the world seems bent on bringing out the worst in you. Regardless of how hard you try, you manage to miss the mark.