I grew up on a farm in northern Missouri, and honestly, things were rarely boring! With books, horses, bikes, motorcycles, dogs, and tons of woods and fields around, I could always find something to do.

As a kid, I was super outgoing—never met a stranger. But my closest friends and family didn’t really know me. I always held back a part of myself, especially the deepest, most personal stuff. Sharing my poetry was not going to happen—way too much exposure. If you read my poems, you’d see the deepest, darkest parts of me, and I wasn’t willing to risk that with anyone. It’s funny, actually; I was in front of hundreds of people with my high school activities, but I was never “truly” seen. I kept the mask up and the world was the stage I performed on.

I finally started sharing my poetry in my late 20s during an adolescent psychology class. Reading through some of it, I remember thinking, “Wow, talk about a hot mess!” But that sparked an idea: “What if other teens and young adults saw this and realized they weren’t alone? The struggle is personal but also totally universal.”

By my mid-30s, I was comfortable enough in my own skin to share my poetry with my closest family. They were genuinely surprised by the intense emotions I’d hidden for so long. “I had no idea,” they said. “That was completely intentional,” I told them. The mask came off, and I stepped off the stage.

Now, in my 50s, life is good. Sure, some moments are still awful, but overall, looking at the big picture—life is good. I’m enough. I figure I’m like aged wine and cheese: if you like it, it gets better with age; if you don’t, it’s rancid or bitter. Either way, I’m totally fine with it!