Still lying on the bed in the Wausau hotel room, I started counting ceiling tiles. From above the covers. Not under. Never under. I always feel constricted, under.
The day the manuscript became Driving without a License was the day I said “yes” to the truth of my own life and coming-of-age experience as an undocumented immigrant.
Here is something I’ve always believed: Just knowing I am an artist, asserting that identity, is more important than what I produce. It is a victory in itself.
Despite the narrative that we are over-diagnosing ADHD in children, symptoms of ADHD often go unrecognized in girls. At the Toast, Grace Lidinsky-Smith discusses navigating grade school with undiagnosed ADHD,…