A Box of Chocolate by Pixelily Designs
(Grungy paper, glitter border, black leaves, black flower, black paper, blue-green paper)
Bookworm by Pixelily Designs
(Newsprint flower, stack of books, old button, white flower/black center (recolored), yellow frame)
Write Your Own Rules by Pixelily Designs and Luv Ewe Designs
(Newsprint paper, keys, green leaves, polka dot paper)
Imagination by Pixelily Designs
Gingerbread Ladies Collab: Smile It's Spring
(Rope frame (recolored))
GingerBread Ladies Collab: Oh Boy!
(Banner (partly recolored))
Seize the Day by CathyK Designs and Designs by Kathryn Estry
Love My Guy by Trixie Scraps

Fonts: Sweet Pea, Always in My Heart

Journaling: Dirty Little Kid. That is what I was. That is how I thought of myself well into adulthood, long after I actually was a Dirty Little Kid. I thought that was how everyone saw me. Dirty. My childhood home was filthy. I stunk. My clothes stunk. I didn't brush my teeth. Other kids and adults (even teachers) understandably kept their distance from me. I would have, too. Not only was I dirty, but I am certain that people thought of me and my family as hillbillies -- uneducated and uncultured. We were -- at least that's how we lived. I spent a lot of years trying to prove that I wasn't that hillbilly Dirty Little Kid. While I still lived in my childhood home, I decided that I didn't want to be known this way. I started bathing and washing my own clothes. I kept my room spotless. I brushed my teeth. I excelled at school and made a conscious effort to always be grammatically correct, even though no one at home did, thinking that would further distance me from that hillbilly image. Name brand clothes became extremely important in my "cover". I did everything I could to distance and separate myself from my family, not all of which I'm proud, because a lot of it was hurtful to them. They tried to shame me for my choices, so at the time, it didn't matter to me if I hurt their feelings. I moved out of my parents' home (see photos) the month I turned 17. I finished high school. When I got my first credit card, I used it to pay for all the cavities I needed filled. I got a college degree from Indiana University. I became obsessive about being clean and cleaning my house. I bleached my badly yellowed teeth. Until I was about 30, the thought that everyone saw me as a Dirty Little Kid was at the forefront of my mind when I was with people -- long-time friends or new ones. Gradually, it became less prominent. I mean, hadn't I seen lots of evidence that people didn't view me that way? Hadn't for years. In documenting this, I am not trying to shame my family. We all do the best we can, right? I believe that. And I believe that sometimes circumstances can trap us and make our best not very good at all. Anyway, it finally dawned on me that it didn't really matter what people thought. It was exhausting to try to prove my worth. Now, it rarely comes up for me. I mostly feel like I am who I am, take me or leave me, hillbilly roots and all. (8/21/15)
Photo info: My parent's house.