I now hate the word “Content”

Oh, hello 2 months later.

I interrupt your day so that we can discuss something that I think has honestly changed the way our brains work. “Content Creation.” You hear it thrown around all the time these days. I often use it as an excuse for my bizarre behavior that Scotty catches me doing. “Content. It’s for content.” This blog only runs if I have actual content being posted here. A huge percentage of my actual job in life boils down to “content creation.” So why then has it taken me this long to actually get something new on my blog (yes, I’m still gagging as I write that word.) Well friend (or maybe enemy,) in the hopes of being as honest as I possibly can with this blog, I can give you a ridiculously long list of reasons. Obviously, we can start with the ones that I most easily give myself, such as: life is busy, I’m tired, I still haven’t even done my 2020 taxes, I have a life, I have an almost 4 year old, etc. I can literally make the list go along forever. (and absolutely will if I need to in order to avoiding doing something I do not want to do.)

Then, there are the excuses that are still surface level but are getting down to the deeper reasons. These would be things like: Sheer laziness, hate of proofreading, inability to narrow down a topic, etc. But when you actually break it down, there is one reason/excuse for not posting. There is one reason why I am not doing the smart thing and posting to TikTok multiple times a day. Ahh yes, my forever suffocating and ever encompassing lifelong partner…ADHD. She is forever with me and directing my life. She owns me. All the content in the past and any to come in the future, is ruled by her. She dangles what I crave most in life (dopamine) in front of me and uses it to control me like a puppet.

I think about this blog every day. I actually have soooooo much to say. I joke with my friends that if I feel like it at any moment, I can literally talk about anything for an hour unprompted. But yet I don’t say anything. About anything. Why? The sheer thought of opening my mouth to explain, is exhausting enough to never start the process.

Ok then, why tonight did I open up this note on my phone and start to type? I was talking to one of my dear friends, (who actually happens to be a former student of mine) Taqwa. The topic of my blog came up, and I wrote to her, “Haha welllll I would have to write on my blog for it to be a blog. 🙃🙃🙃 It’s fine, I’m just in pause mode.” She responded with “What’s the hold up?” The actual audacity has me shook.

When I saw the response pop up in my notifications and saw what it said, it really hit me hard. For a few reasons, actually. The first immediate thought was, “Fuck yes, T. You are a bad bitch and a true actual real friend for calling me to the table.” Not many people have the actual confidence and empathy to unpack deep shit with other people. Inspiring, truly inspiring. So I say the audacity shook me not because I was offended, but because I was truly shocked by her empathy and friendship.  

While that was my first thought, I still haven’t responded to her yet. Because I knew it would be so much to unpack. Instead, I just marinated in all the reasons. I decided I needed to break them down, and out of that came this. This post.

So, shall we break it down? Are you willing to hop on this train and take the tracks into the depth of my mind in order to figure out why I worked so hard to get this blog going and have only posted twice???? If so, take my arm and let’s go for a stroll around the promenade. Maybe some of these feelings with resonate with you.

Let’s look at the basic level one reasons first:

Sometimes I look at my life and realize how actually un-busy I am at this point in my life compared to what I have been at other points in my life. In 2011 and 2012 I was probably the most “busy” I have ever been and will ever be. I was engaged to Scotty and planning a huge wedding where we were doing everything ourselves for the most part. Scotty and I were leading a youth group at a church. This meant teaching and leading on Wednesday nights and on Sundays. Scotty was also leading worship. I was teaching full time with 6 sections of teaching multiple subjects each day (and like good teaching too, not half-assing it.) I was also the head cheerleading coach and at events 2-4 nights a week, not including practice. I was right smack in the middle of grad school for my MA in history. This meant I was attending class from 7-10 at least two nights a week. Along with attending those classes, I was doing the work for those classes. This meant I was reading 2-3 BOOKS a week and writing at the absolute bare minimum 10 pages a week. Oh, and did I mention that Scotty and I did not live together before we were married, so we had to be purposeful about seeing each other. We were also building a new house. Plus…. My job, my house, and Scotty were all 20-40 miles from one another and as a result I was driving a lot. So, I know “busy.” Now I’m like 1/4 of that, and somehow, I still feel swamped. Obviously, I’m older, have an actual child, and other responsibilities, but when I give myself the excuse of being “busy,” I literally make fun of myself in my head. “Really Haylie? Busy? Do you remember? You’re not busy. Suck it up.” I fucking did it then, I COULD do it now. But here is the thing…. This “busy” that I have now is so different from what I have been in my other life stages. I thrived in that chaotic and all encompassing environment of those years. Living like I did during those years gave me so much dopamine, omg. The challenges, the hard deadlines, and the feeling of success when you got that entire list accomplished. Holy shit, practically orgasmic. My life now…. Yea, it’s busy, but it’s a different busy. There are very few hard deadlines, there is no beginning and end, and I’m just aimlessly floating. Do I have goals? Of course. But I’m the boss. I’m the one setting the goals and the deadlines. And you wanna know a secret? I can argue or talk my way out of pretty much anything, to anyone. Including myself. That sounds cocky, I know. But I’m for real. I can validate practically any decision you make for you and convince you that you made the right one.

“You decided that cancel your plans with your BFF last night? Oh, it’s ok, you worked really hard and your body needs rest.”

“You stole money from your place of employment? It’s ok. They owed you for the unpaid emotional labor you put into that job every day. Oh, and the owner probably deserved it, I’m sure he cheats on his wife.”

“You killed your neighbor and buried them in your backyard!?? Well, he was always playing music way too loud. Also, he was creepy, and one time I saw him go get his computer from his truck at 2:00 am. I’m sure he was downloading illegal stuff. You did the world a favor.”

Too far?? Let’s bring it back up to surface level. “You are an entire package of Oreos last night at 3:00am? It’s ok babe, you hardly ate all day anyways. A calorie is a calorie.”

You see what I mean? This is a problem. Especially when you’re your own boss. I know that I can change the deadlines, the schedule and the expectations. I can convince myself the changes are a good idea. I can rationalize it all and make it completely logical. Deadlines are meaningless when you set them if you know you can break them. Even deadlines that most people might see as an actual hard deadline, nah…. I can play around with that too. I will have myself convinced that not abiding by the actual deadline is a better idea than actually abiding by it.

This self-manipulation is toxic enough, but then I take it a step farther and combine it with my need for extreme procrastination. What you get with this is sheer chaos for a small amount of time before the deadline combined with unadulterated adrenaline and finally topped off with a hit of dopamine when completed. And the dopamine always fails to meet my expectations.

Let me describe a situation to you. I teach a few college history classes a semester. I love it, but I have to work really hard to make myself be the prepared and on top of it Professor that my students deserve. I can usually do this because the students show up in my classroom at the times I teach. Like I know I have to be there at 1:00pm with something to teach/do. (I’m not gonna lie and pretend like I have never not shown up though, I have forgotten.) The fact that I have students depending on me, that motivates me. Plus, in a classroom where I am the teacher/professor, I am in control. Not in a weird power trip way, but like I’m the center of the attention. I set the tone, the mood, and the expectations. I have a captive audience and I get to entertain them by rambling on about things I find interesting. I tell jokes; they laugh. Dopamine. It’s like being a stand-up comedian who’s audience can’t leave and feel obligated to laugh.

This is the case in a normal school semester. 2020-2021…. Not freaking normal. I was tossed into teaching online. I don’t teach online. Online teaching, I have no real expectations that are going to keep my ADHD in check. I literally forget I am teaching sometimes. Like a lot, actually. Deadlines are fluid. I took it to a whole new level these past few semesters. I got rid of all due dates except the final day because then I wouldn’t have deadlines to get grades in. Then I could spend the last day before grades are due (I mean the last hours….) and do it all at once. And you know how I rationalized this TERRIBLE teaching? “It’s a pandemic! There are people dying, these students don’t need to worry about due dates.” And while yes, that rings true and seems like the empathetic thing to do, it wasn’t. I turned the class into a shitty class, so I that I could have as little responsibility as possible, and then justified it by telling myself it was for the students’ good. Why? This is the scenario where I could get the most dopamine out of a situation that I was not mentally suited for.

Sometimes it’s not so intense…. Take my taxes for example. My 2020 taxes. You’re probably thinking, “Haylie, there is an actual deadline for taxes.” Yea, there is. But I can get an extension. So, I do. Do I need it? Not really, but doing my taxes before the very last second seems too easy. Where is the fun in that? I will procrastinate any and everything there is to procrastinate, simply for the reason of procrastination itself. The idea of sitting down and doing something before the very last second makes me physically ill in my stomach. I simply CANNOT make myself do it. I doubt even the imperious curse could make me. So, when will that next blog post come out? Good question. I just follow the dopamine.

Did you know this search for dopamine can also prevent people with ADHD from doing necessary but not-rewarding things because the doing of the actual task is deemed pointless by the brain? This is why multiple-step processes are so annoying or intimidating to ADHD people. I often joke that I don’t do things that don’t benefit me directly. Yes, that sounds terrible, but it’s the truth. For example, Scotty loves doing puzzles. I have absolutely no interest in spending all that time and energy on accomplishing something that doesn’t give me a tangible reward. It’s why I don’t have games on my phone. It’s why I hate board games. What is my actual reward for spending time on that game? Nothing? Bye bitch, it ain’t for me. Did I mention that I really just hate proofreading? It’s the same concept. I would rather wear a contact lens with a tear in it all day at Disney in July than re-read this blog post and fix stupid typos and grammatical errors. Why? I get no instant gratification from completing the proofreading; therefore, it seems like wasted time and effort. Yes, your thoughts are correct: proofreading would lead to posting, which would lead to people commenting nice things (hopefully) and then you have your reward, right? Wrong. There are more steps in between proof-reading and pressing the publish button. More self-regulated obstacles that my brain does not see the value in because they are not providing instant gratification.

Now there is of course a simple fix to this: hire someone. My logical argument against (because remember I can justify anything): their proof-reading and corrections might change the tone of what I wrote. So, I would need to check their work. I don’t even wanna check my work, so how the hell am I gonna check their work too. Therefore, no new blog post. It seems lazy, I know. But in actuality it’s not. I’m just stuck. Imprisoned by my own mind.

All of this described above, guess where it stems from? ADHD. Yes, for real. You know what else is a product of ADHD? Let me pack more on this plate for you. Anxiety relating to Imposter Syndrome. Even as I am writing this, as someone who has been diagnosed with ADHD for the past 10 plus years and living with it my entire life…. I still think that people are going to read all of this and be like, “no, you’re literally just lazy and a terrible person who uses ADHD as an excuse for your behavior.” Why do I think people are saying that? Because my own brain is saying that. My brain makes me doubt my own neuro-divergence and can really convince me that I’m a fraud.

Imposter Syndrome. This is the idea that you’re an imposter. You are just winging it and waiting for the shoe to drop and everyone around you to find out you’re a fraud. My generation struggles with Imposter Syndrome quite a bit, and it is seen so much in the corporate and academic world. Imposter Syndrome not only convinces me I’m a fake ADHD person but also keeps me from doing things like posting a history based TikTok. I love history. I have two degrees in history. I know a lot about my subject and historical focus. But the actual idea of me posting a TikTok talking about something that I am more than equipped to talk about induces hives. “What if I get a small fact wrong? I will be torn apart. Other historians will make fun of me. I will be a joke.” Or I see soooo many content creators actually talking about ADHD. I could do that. I want to do that. “People will just think that you’re jumping on the ADHD bandwagon.”

Parenting. I can talk about that. “You have one child, and she is actually pretty easy going. Also, you really have no idea what you’re even doing, you’re clearly winging it.”

The list goes on and on. Sound familiar? Imposter Syndrome. It’s a real bitch, and it keeps its finger on my pause button often.

ADHD actually rules my life. And I want to talk about it. But all the things that make it worth talking about and sharing, are what are stopping me from doing so. ADHD controls my content, but she is my content. And I am forever drifting under her influence. This is why it’s been so long since I have posted a blog post. Take your pick, I have so many excuses. No reasons. Cheers to “Content!”

Xoxo

Haylie

Written on Wednesday, June 9 at 2:15 am.

Sent to my wonderful friend and helper Zoe on Sunday, June 13 for proofreading.

Published June 14, finally.

The hardest day of my life…

Today is April 25. I lived the first 29 years of my life not knowing that April 25 would be a day that I would one day both dread and cherish. I knew I wanted to make a blog post about today, but I have also been putting that off. Today is almost over. It’s currently 6:15pm and I told myself, “just do it.” Anytime I sit down and write a post about this day for Facebook and Instagram, I always end up crying. Sobbing actually. Which I obviously hate. I am not an “emotional” person. I would actually rather scratch the surface of my eyeball than cry. (There are LOTS of reasons for this, which we can unpack later on.) This aversion to emotions and tears makes talking about and writing about April 25 quite a problem. 

On April 25, 2016 I gave birth to our first daughter. A little precious girl that I would have gladly given my entire life for. She lived around 30 minutes. We knew going into her birth that she would not make it. On April 25, 2016 I joined one of the coolest clubs in the world. I became a mom. That day I also joined another club, a club that no one wants to be a part of. I joined a club that in order to be a member of you have to had felt the deepest and most intense pain humanly possible. There is nothing like the pain of losing a child. It will never go away. It stings everyday of your life. The days get easier, but that pain is forever and always there. In your heart, in your soul, in your gut. 

Embree should be 5 years old today. She should be about to enjoy her last summer before she starts kindergarten. She should be splashing in the pool and running around the yard with Caroline. But here we are, a family of three instead of four. 

I often wonder, why us? Why me? Why are we the family that was hit with this tragedy? I know there is no logical answer to this, but yet it still plagues me. While there was nothing I could have done to prevent what happened, or to save our Embree’s life, I have vowed to make sure that Embree’s legacy lives on. I will live my life making sure that people understand how the laws in this country make it EVEN MORE difficult for families like ours during the worst moment in their life. 

Typing that last sentence I can already hear people in my head saying things like. “Oh here she goes again. Making everything about politics.” “I can’t believe she is using her story to push a political agenda.” (you might be wondering if people are actually saying things like this, they are. I promise. How do I know? They say it to me.. They say it in comments and pms.) To those thinking and saying these things... here is my answer. Hell yes I am. Yes I am telling our story to hopefully make someone stop and think how they vote. Hell yes I am hoping our story reaches the desk of lawmakers. Because women’s reproductive rights are under attack and the average person doesn’t know how laws labeled “pro-life” are actually not pro-life. 

Below I am putting our story in detail from a Facebook post I wrote about 6 months ago. 

This will show that April 25th is hard not only because it’s the day I lost my sweet Embree, but also because it’s a reminder that all over the US other moms and families are going through what we did. Other moms and families are being put in the same position we were, and are suffering because of it. How do I know it’s not just us? Because every time I post about our story I am flooded with messages from moms who have been there, right where I was on April 25, 2016. I will never stop sharing our story. I will never stop reminding people of Embree and everything she stands for. 

Hey. It’s me. I have tried for the past few years to keep politics off of this space, but tonight it’s about to get a political. Kinda. Stay with me. I saw this article today about Senator Gary Peters and his abortion story. It reminded me why I am pro-choice and reminded me that people need to hear my story too. Some of you may have already heard my story, but I think it is a good reminder of how politics are used to control women’s bodies and how everything isn’t always what it seems on the surface. (Article link at the end) 

4.5 years ago, I gave birth to my first born. Her name was Embree Eleanor Grammer. She was born via c-section on April 25, 2016. She weighed 4lbs 4oz. She was only 25 weeks gestation. She lived for approximately 20-30 minutes. She was born with a tumor that was roughly the size of a volleyball that was invading her body both externally and internally. It was sucking her blood supply, pushing her organs out of place, deforming her body, and overworking her heart. We found out about the tumor only 5 weeks prior. In that 5 weeks the tumor grew from about the size of a walnut to the volleyball. I grew along with it, from the tiny bump of a first time mom at 20 weeks to measuring the same as a pregnant woman who was roughly 36 weeks along. In 5 weeks.

That 5 weeks was the hardest 5 weeks of my life. We had sonograms twice weekly, traveled across the state to visit more specialists, and were told that essentially our sweet Embree would probably not make it. We had a choice to make. The state of Texas allows an abortion a time period after 20 weeks if the pregnancy is life threatening to the mother or if the fetus has “abnormalities.” We qualified for this. I have always been pro-choice, but I have never been pro-abortion for myself. While I agree that women have the right to do what is best for them, I myself wasn’t ever planning on getting an abortion. I also had hope. Hope that Embree would be healed. Hope that the tumor would stop growing. So we chose to push on with the pregnancy, hoping that Embree would have a chance. I was counting down to the age of viability, just hoping that if I could keep Embree cooking until then, maybe.... just maybe, modern medicine and prayers could keep her alive.

We were not only closely monitoring Embree, but doctors were closely monitoring me. Even though Embree was still alive, she was not in good shape. She was developing Hydrops and I was at a risk of developing mirror syndrome. This would be life threatening to me if it fully developed. On April 22 I went to my second sonogram of the week and my doctors were concerned with the swelling in my feet. I was told that I had a decision to make. Not only was I starting to develop the beginnings of mirror syndrome, but we were 2 weeks away from 27 weeks. This was important because at 27 weeks, I would no longer be able to deliver Embree in Texas via c-section. Why? Because according to the law, by choosing to deliver Embree this early, I would be having an abortion. And while at 24.5 weeks I was still in the grey area of Texas Abortion law where I could deliver her, at 27 weeks I would not be. Surprised this is considered an abortion? Many are. Stay with me. 

We decided to schedule our c-section for that Monday. I would be 25 weeks. We made it past the age of viability, but it was becoming obvious that she would not make it. We met with NICU doctors and they reviewed our case. They decided that they would not be attempting any life saving attempts on Embree after she was delivered. This meant officially, we were choosing to have an abortion. We were giving birth to our child early, knowing full well that she would not survive. This is what “late term abortion” looks like. Catch that political buzz word? I will explain more below.

As you can imagine, this was the worst and longest weekend of our life. We knew that in 2 days we would be meeting our daughter and letting her go. But it gets so much worse. Again, this is considered an abortion. A late term abortion. The State of Texas, like most states who have a large majority who claim to be “pro-life,” has many restrictions in place to prevent abortions from happening. Here is the thing about abortion legislation.... it doesn’t differentiate between what we were going through and what the “pro-life” groups think they are preventing. The laws in Texas stated that in order for us to give birth to Embree and have a chance to  hold her while her soul still resided in her body, we had to do the following: 1. Our doctor had to apply for permission to perform the c-section from the state. This had to be done 24 hours before the surgery. We had to go to the hospital on the Saturday before we were to give birth, in the midst of our mourning, to sign a paper requesting an abortion. Put yourself in that situation. Forever, in the records of the State of Texas, there is a piece of paper that says that I aborted my precious Embree. 2. On top of filing this paperwork for us, our doctor also had to give me a pamphlet published by the State of Texas about the consequences of abortion. By law, she was required to give me a booklet that told me that if I had the abortion I would suffer from depression and anxiety for the rest of my life, have an increased risk of breast cancer, and possible be infertile in the future. Think I’m kidding? Have a look: 

https://hhs.texas.gov/sites/default/files/documents/services/health/women-children/womans-right-to-know.pdf 

If you consider yourself “pro-life” you are probably thinking something like, “yes but your situation was different. This isn’t what I’m fighting against.”  Or maybe you’re thinking “but I don’t consider this abortion.”  Great. But the actual definition of abortion is “the termination of a pregnancy after, accompanied by, resulting in, or closely followed by the death of the embryo or fetus.” So while YOU might not consider what we went through to be an “abortion,” it was. I had an abortion. I had a late-term abortion. 

Why am I bringing this up? Why am I telling you this? Because when lawmakers and people fight to end “abortion,” they are talking about this too. When you hear about “late term abortions” taking place, THIS is what is happening. It’s not women who have carried babies to full term and then just deciding to have an abortion. It is women and families who are devastated that they are in a situation in which they have to decide whether to let a child suffer in the womb, or end their suffering. “Pro-life” laws are designed to make this process difficult. They are designed to but obstacles in place. This process is already difficult enough. Even women who are deciding to have an abortion at 8 weeks. It’s already a hard decision so why are we allowing people to torture them too. 

Every time people talk about saving the babies and being pro-life, I cringe on the inside. Not because I don’t want to save babies, but because I want to save babies. Save babies from suffering that they are made to endure because some man who has no medical training has decided that he knows women’s bodies better than doctors. I cringe because I know as a survivor of these terrible “pro-life” laws that these laws are being used to trick women in America to vote against their own interest in hopes that they are saving the unborn.  I cringe every time I hear people call those who vote in favor of Pro-Choice laws... “murderers”, because they are saying I murdered my Embree. 

I chose to deliver Embree on April 25, 2016 via c-section. I chose late-term abortion. I did so because it was the only way I could hold my baby girl while she was still alive. It was the only way I could encounter her soul until we are together again in heaven. This is why I am Pro-choice. Remember Embree and I when you vote.

Article: https://www.elle.com/culture/career-politics/a34339956/senator-gary-peters-abortion/

I am… never what you are expecting.

A blog. My initial reaction to the idea of being a blogger is... [insert puking emoji.] (The idea of writing this blog without using emojis is actually making me kinda anxious.) Scotty actually walked in on me while I was working on this blog the other day and I about died. I have always said that I would never start a blog. I think my exact 2012 anti-blog rant to him went a little something like, “I cannot imagine a world in which I am so outwardly shallow and self-absorbed that I create a website solely dedicated to the thoughts in my brain.” Joke’s on me huh? The funny thing is that I never thought these thoughts about anyone else who had a blog. In fact, I’m probably the nosiest person you will ever meet. I LOVE a good detailed blog. But for some reason, the idea of me doing it was absolutely appalling. The more I have thought about this mindset that I created for myself surrounding blogs, the more I realized that it actually revealed a great deal about me. 

I didn’t learn until I was an adult in grad school that I was actually ADHD. Like severely ADHD. Looking back all the pieces fit together quite nicely, but in the 1990’s “girls with ADHD” wasn’t really a thing (more on this at a later date.) People sometimes joke that with MeNtAl ILlNeSsEs you often end up with a buy one get one (or 7) free kind of deal. And oh boy is that the truth here. My genes ordered an entree of ADHD and in return got a few sides... including depression, anxiety, and maybe a side of mild autism? The fun doesn’t end there because each of these all come with their own symptoms! Yay! If you are currently wondering if my ADHD has gotten a hold of me here and I am completely off the topic of why I could never have a blog, let me just assure you we are still on the right path. Looking back, I’m quite certain that my aversion to having my own blog comes from the symptoms of my mind and my constant need to overcome these symptoms for everyday society (“masking”). For example, an inflated ego and god-complex can often be a symptom of ADHD. I know this about myself. I know that I have these and I work really hard to not have these. In my mind, creating and writing a blog would play into my inflated ego and I have always been afraid that if I started a blog, people would see beyond my mask and think things such as: “omg of course she started a blog. She thinks people really care about what she has to say.” Or “Could she need anymore attention??” I guess some people really might say these things, but in my mind... everyone would be saying it about me. Isn’t mental illness fun?? 

So what has changed? So much and yet nothing at all. Do I still have these thoughts as I’m writing this? 1000% yes. Am I going to push through and still do this f-ing blog? Yes. Yes I am. Here is why. I started sharing more of myself on social media these past few years. I started being real and exposing my true self. I started talking about my messed up brain and how it affected my everyday life. I started talking about the loss of my first daughter and the never-ending pain and grief that I have as a result. I started talking about my inner hoe that placates itself by wearing booty shorts. I started talking about SO MANY things, and guess what? Other women were listening and they started talking back. I was able to start listening to their stories and their struggles. I looked around and realized that I was actually helping other women, and holy shit.... nothing like positive reinforcement to keep an egocentric maniac with a god-complex talking. So here we are. It has led us here. I have decided that I will not be held back by my insecurities anymore and I will push forward to help other women. (And tbh, it for sure will 100% feed my ego. But a bitch has gotta eat right??) The anxiety surrounding posting this is strong, but if even just ONE other woman is encouraged or helped by what I have to say, it’s all going to be worth it. 

Here is my promise to you sweet reader: 

I will be 100% real with you. I will not sugarcoat things and I will not omit things. I will give you 100% authentic Haylie. Some will love it, and some will absolutely hate it. We will not all agree on every topic, and some of you will find something about me that you just can’t stand and as a result you will stop reading and supporting. But babe, that is A-ok. You will hopefully find someone who is more your cup of tea. 

Ps: I do know that by publishing this and all my thoughts, I am officially disqualifying myself to be able to run for public office one day. It already would have been a tough race with three marriages under my belt, but this will really seal the deal.  :)

Fast facts: 

Haylie Grammer 

Female 

She/her

Wife 

Mother

34 years old

Taurus 

Texas born and raised

Democrat 

History Professor 

Direct Sales believer 

All around hustler 

Hoochie for life

Blog owner (pretend you hear me audibly gag when you read this)

My True Self…

Enjoy this picture taken of me on a pole at Channing Tatum’s Restaurant in Nola in 2016. If there is a pole nearby, I will climb it.