mandie west

Somewhere in April of 2004 The phone rang. Seconds later, I hear my mom at the top of the stairs. "Mandie, it's your dad!" She hollers down. My ears are ringing and I am nauseous. This was the call I'd been dreading. I picked up the phone receiver downstairs, "Hello?" "Hey..." Usually his deep southern drawl was comforting. Not today. "You wanna explain what that was about?" ---- Twenty hours earlier. ---- It was 10 or 11 pm when I decided that my plan was good enough to go through with. The walls of my life were closing in on me and there was no escaping it, except to kick out a window and make my own escape route. Setting off the alarms as I went. Waiting until close to 2 am, I stole the keys from the hook beside the garage door and slipped out the backdoor. The car’s engine didn't make much noise in the stillness. At least, not enough to alert anyone of my getaway. Just the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires as...

Sometime in 2015, I started writing this story for myself. I didn’t care if anyone ever read it. I didn’t care what anyone thought about what I would have to say. I started writing in a spiral notebook, stealing a few minutes here and there to write. I didn’t know if I would ever share it. I’m not sure why I ever started sharing it here on the internet. Maybe I thought it would help me feel obligated to finish, when the writing became hard, when reliving the memories wasn’t fun anymore. It worked for a while. Until it didn’t. I’ve done my best to make peace with my past. And I abandoned this story sometime in 2019 because it hurt too much to try to finish. As much as I wish I could say I’ve completely forgiven myself for my past, I haven’t. Some days are better than others. I am a better version of myself with each passing day. I recently started praying again, for the first time in many years. I read every book on mindfulness and acceptance that I can get my hands on. I practice acce...