This one’s for the grandmas who quietly carry our history. In this episode, I share a tender memory of discovering a pink Mead notebook my Grandma Donna saved for decades—a notebook filled with poems and stories I wrote as a little girl. It’s not just about nostalgia. It’s about remembering the child I was, the dreams I had, and the quiet proof that I’ve always been a writer. I reflect on the power of holding on to our younger selves, how memory works when childhood trauma is part of the stor...
All content for Little Book of Confessions with Melissa May is the property of Melissa May and is served directly from their servers
with no modification, redirects, or rehosting. The podcast is not affiliated with or endorsed by Podjoint in any way.
This one’s for the grandmas who quietly carry our history. In this episode, I share a tender memory of discovering a pink Mead notebook my Grandma Donna saved for decades—a notebook filled with poems and stories I wrote as a little girl. It’s not just about nostalgia. It’s about remembering the child I was, the dreams I had, and the quiet proof that I’ve always been a writer. I reflect on the power of holding on to our younger selves, how memory works when childhood trauma is part of the stor...
⚠️ Trigger Warning: Sexual assault Please listen with care — or feel free to skip this episode if it’s not the right time for you. In this vulnerable episode of Little Book of Confessions with Melissa May, I share a story I’ve carried since I was 17. At the time, I couldn’t say the word “rape.” I couldn’t write it, either. So I told myself another story to survive — one I reread years later and barely recognized as my own. This is the journal entry. The memory. The truth. And it’s...
Little Book of Confessions with Melissa May
This one’s for the grandmas who quietly carry our history. In this episode, I share a tender memory of discovering a pink Mead notebook my Grandma Donna saved for decades—a notebook filled with poems and stories I wrote as a little girl. It’s not just about nostalgia. It’s about remembering the child I was, the dreams I had, and the quiet proof that I’ve always been a writer. I reflect on the power of holding on to our younger selves, how memory works when childhood trauma is part of the stor...
