Curvature of the Spine

LifeStory by Olivia
Visit her blog “Champagne and Cologne”

I am an identical twin. My twin sister died at birth and I have always struggled with the idea of missing something I never truly knew. Her spine wasn’t formed properly, and my parents knew they would only be taking one of us home. They named her Lea Michele. Lea is my Mum’s middle name, and my Dad’s name is Michael. I grew up knowing that I had a “Guardian Angel”.

When I was 12 I found out I had congenital scoliosis. We had a nurse come into school and tell us about how, with scoliosis, there is a curvature of the spine, and a good way to detect it is to bend over and touch your toes, and if one side of your back is higher than the other, then you should get it checked out.

I went home that afternoon frantic. I told mum, and my bothers and sisters, and my dad. They all acted calm and collected but I later found out they had been concerned about this for a while too. One afternoon a few weeks earlier, I was reading on the front porch in the sun and was bent over my book, and my siblings noticed and showed my mum. So my coming home with this news probably wasn’t that shocking.

We made an appointment with the GP, which led to x-rays. Which led to a visit to the specialist.

I did have scoliosis, but not the conventional type where it is purely just a curvature. Congenital means “born with” – and the reason I was born with my scoliosis is because I had an extra vertebrae – but only on the left hand side. This extra half had a rib off of it too. Here I was, with extra spine when my twin died because hers wasn’t fully formed? Basically, my spine was straight until it hit this uneven patch, where is curved out at the bottom. The funny thing is, that my condition should have been so much more physically apparent, but because I was so into swimming training, my spinal muscles were so strong that they held me in place. My shoulders were level, and for someone with my condition it is usual for one shoulder to be much higher than the other.

So, we had to book in for surgery. I was lucky enough to have the best orthopedic surgeon at that point in time in WA as my doctor. The surgery would basically be two in one, and was expected to take about 10 hours. They would first remove the extra vertebrae and rib – but to get in there, they would have to remove the whole vertebrae and ribs directly above. I started with an extra half and now I am minus one! Then they would roll me over and put steel rods against my spine. These will stay in there forever.

Abort Mission Escort

LifeStory by Mounting and Counting

Visit her blog “Mounting and Counting”

I think many of us broke ass bitches in New York City have either playfully or seriously considered trying the escort route. One reason is thanks to campy chic flicks that may have the average broad thinking that being an escort is just serving as an eye candy wedding date for a guy who doesn’t have a plus one. Truth is, it’s far more raw. Sex is expected and you have to risk going to stranger’s homes and fend for yourself once you pass their door.

I’m doing the reading, thinking thing on vacation here and I just read an October ’09 Vanity Fair article about the Craigslist killer investigation. I don’t like following sensational media frenzies, but the murdered girl was giving sensual massages, not even sexual favors and managed to lose her life. In desperate times, I’ve responded to ads like that on CL.

Craiglist is a scary venue and one I’ve come dangerously close to using for very wrong reasons. One night, I booked work with an escort service right before rent was due. I was nervous as hell and knew I’d be an emotional wreck if I had sex for money. I could almost feel my Dad’s heart break more than any stripper revelations would induce.

My first call was a guy who just wanted me to dance for an hour. The guy actually behaved, but when I arrived, I went down to his basement level place that resembled a mob killing setup and had his pit bull run up to me the minute I walked in.

Quick Update From TLSTP

<< That’s me being assertive!

Hey guys! So does anyone remember my original call? If I can get 15 LifeStories up and posted I’ll make this space a little more official. I’ve been eying the domain “alifestoryproject.com” for a little while and I want to take this blog to the next level both with a new address and a spruced up look!

Keep sending me your stories and encourage your friends and fellow bloggers to do the same! I want to get out of wordpress.com and into the real interwebs!

On that note, you guys have been awesome and I love the stories that I’ve been getting. Keep up the good work and stick around!

Just Do It.

LifeStory by Hannah

Visit her blog “She’s In The Band”

I am now, was then, and probably always will be your typical teenage girl.

Alright, the jig is up, I’m twenty now but something tells me I’ll always be the same obsessive, slightly impulsive 18-year-old. I attach myself to people and things easily, have serious abandonment issues, and have a tendency to swing my mood back and forth like a 9-year-old going after a pinata, but it took three long years of misery and obsession to turn me into the best possible version of myself. This story is about love, heartbreak, and wading through all the bullshit to figure out who you really are.

I met him on my 17th birthday. I was hooked immediately. He was interesting, attractive, with just a hint of tragedy. Perfect for me. I love a sense of mystery and the idea of being someone’s go-to girl. We got continued to talk until I entertained the delusion of him actually sharing any kind of mutual feelings for me, and that’s where our downward spiral begins.

He quickly became one of my closest friends. I always wanted to be around him, and hear what he had to say. I began molding myself into the type of person I was sure he’d appreciate, and maybe one day love. As the days, months, years progressed, I was so far off from the person I had been pre-boy that I had unknowingly burned several bridges between friends and family in the process.

I became obsessed. I have been a musician all my life, though admittedly, I only began writing my own music the year I met him. At first it was a simple ploy to get his attention, but I soon fell in love with a little instrument and the idea of expressing myself. However, no matter how much joy I got from playing ukulele, every song I wrote was packed to the brim with references to him and I and what I wanted from this seemingly meaningful relationship.

The Accident

LifeStory by Holly Renee

Visit her Blog “Love Imagine Create”

With only six weeks left in my college career I was run over by a drunk driver. Not only did the tires crush the lower portion of my body, but I was drug between the belly of the car and the asphalt for nearly fifteen feet.

The guy driving the car was not a total stranger to me. I had met him earlier in the night, as he was a part of the group I had been hanging out with. In fact, in the few seconds before he ran me over I was trying to persuade him not to drive because he was so obliterated.

He had hopped out of our sober drive car and into the driver’s seat of his own car. His good friend and I stood by the open car door and asked him to give us the keys. He refused and put the car in reverse. It took less than a second for my mind to recognize that something awful was about to happen. The driver’s side door was approaching me and there was no way for me to avoid its path.

His friend screamed, “STOP” as he hit the acceleration. Before I knew it I was knocked to the ground and sucked towards the pavement. The asphalt tore at my skin as my mind went blank. The front driver’s side tire drilled over my left leg, up towards my torso. My body twisted in torment and desperation. Finally, the bottom of the car released my mangled body. Quickly after this I blacked out.

I was taken to the hospital and emergency surgery was performed on my face. My skull was exposed and I needed over 200 stitches in my head. Every one of my limbs were slashed. My knee and ankle were crushed. My pelvis was broken in three places.

Quick Update from TLSP (The LifeStory Project)

Hey guys! I’ve been getting stories in all weekend! You’re all the best! I’ll be posting through out the week as more come in and I get myself organized. In the meantime, be sure to follow on Twitter and Facebook (links at the bottom of the page) and share this site with your blog followers!

I’ll be spending some time working on buttons and getting this place all spruced up so we can all be taken seriously! But for now I have a challenge for you:

I want to hear some LifeStories about the first time you had to live away from home! Share Here!

When You’re a Little Girl…

LifeStory by Denise
Visit her blog “Somewhat of a Spectacle”

When you’re a little girl someone somewhere puts the idea in your head that you can rule the world, and that someday prince charming will come along to rub your feet while you do it. I don’t know who that person was, but they were really terrible for putting ideas like that into a small persons head. I get if they had said “you’ll struggle a lot, and you may not be smart enough, or pretty enough, and more likely than not half the things you try you won’t succeed at; but try little girl, and try hard, because there are people out there fighting for the exact same things you are and they are smart enough, and pretty enough, and good that the things you struggle with…” we’d all never get past making finger paintings and watching Barney because we’d just give up at the first sign of failure after we realized that it’s real.

What’s Your Story!?

***This is a work in progress***

People’s lives are so interesting. You want to know how I know? I read your blogs and your facebook statuses all day long. OK, so not ALL DAY long. I do have to work and school and I sleep occasionally. But when I have a free moment, I like to browse around the internet and see what people have to say. It’s vastly more interesting and far less depressing than the news. I like to read little snippets of people’s lives despite the fact that in reality, many of the people I follow are total strangers.

Oh the Glory of the Internet in 2010!

In keeping suit, I decided to re-fire up my own creative drive and start a blog myself, “A Rhapsody in Green” which can be found HERE. It’s not much at the moment and that’s OK. I just wanted my own little corner of the web as an outlet to tell my story. Which was when I started thinking….

So many of the blogs I read are day-to-day accounts of people’s lives, inventories of what they’ve done, reviews of things they’ve experienced. Following a blog for a long time will give you a sort of chronology, and you do get to feel as if you know a blogger. But at the end of the day, I’ve found myself wanting to know more. If someone were to go back over their lives and pick one story to share with the world, what would it be?

Everyone has a story to tell whether they are unofficially writing a book (as so many people are) or simply looking for an ear to bend. Well here’s the thing… I know everyone has a story and I want to hear it. The LifeStory Project is a piece of the internet where people can share a story from their life whether it was something that impacted them deeply, or is just a funny little snippet from the past. You don’t have to give me your whole life story, just something important to you that you would want to share that may not have already come up on your own blog. That’s the difference between a “life story” and a “LifeStory.” Oh the difference a space and some CAPS will make! A LisfeStory is a story from your life, a piece of you to share with the world.

This is a work in progress at the moment and I’m trying to garner some interest before going full-monty into my own domain and polished layout. If I can get 15 LifeStories, we’ll make this a little more serious. So do you want to tell yours? Check out my guidelines for submission, just so we’re clear, and visit the submit page to get going!

Thank you for telling your story!