Blathering on about God, food, and more….
The signs were there, yet I did not heed them. In 1990, I had another life. I was married to a different man, had a regular job at a regular company with regular benefits, and I lived in a suburb with cookie-cutter houses, where most of the residents had the same education, income, and race. I actually went to Tupperware parties. Two Tupperware parties. {—-shiver—-}
Second grade was not a stellar year for me. Academically, I was fine, but it was the first time in my memory that a teacher did not like me – a rare occurrence, considering I’m an over-achiever and eager to learn. Most teachers love having a student like me: anxious to help, anxious to please, and anxious to get an “A.” But, Mrs. Anderson only saw that I was anxious. My anxiety got on her very last nerve.