As I've gotten older Pride has become an opportunity to take inventory of identity. To claim parts of myself that once felt negotiable and reclaim parts that were handed over too freely in exchange for comfort, acceptance, or safety.

If you spend your time watching the next line and judging how they do things, you’re missing the bad stuff you’re sending down your own line and out into the world. 

Regina is someone you’ll quickly find easy to talk to. With a wide range of experiences and a lineup of genuinely cool hobbies, she brings a fresh perspective and a lot of personality to the team.

In the same way we as a country like to avoid accountability for harms that have been done, families and individuals avoid the hard conversations surrounding their part in perpetuating trauma. Sometimes, the conversations go unsaid to protect the ones causing harm.

There is not one “right way” to heal and there definitely isn’t a straight path. My recovery story was messy and doesn’t fit into one box, and that is okay. 

What you don’t see on the recovery pamphlet is that for many of us, it’s part trauma response. Eating disorders affect people of all genders, ages, races, and sizes.

ADHD isn’t just a quirky “ooh, shiny object” condition, as it’s often portrayed. We’re not just airheads who get distracted now and then; it’s definitely not a superpower. Forgetting appointments and struggling to focus on boring but necessary tasks won’t save the world from villains.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been drawn to the unseen currents that guide us. What started as curiosity soon became a way of living, a way of understanding myself. 

The way depression is diagnosed, with a questionnaire about your feelings and behaviors and their durations, is not as perspicuous as, say, a blood test for diabetes. There’s no way of knowing that you’re in need of medication until you give it a go and see if it helps with symptoms.

Between teeing off and putting on the green, I was always in the deep stuff. And now, standing on this perfect, short grass? It felt weird. Too clean. Too open. I could see my ball clearly. I knew I shouldn’t use my usual “rough swing” because that would tear up the fairway, and I didn’t want to ruin it for the next person. But now I have no excuses. I couldn’t say, “Well, I could barely see my ball,” or “Those trees were in the way.” It was just me, the ball, and wide-open space.