Hi, my name is Anastasia Hope Lawrence. My mom named me Anastasia because two popes and more than twenty saints bore this name. She and everyone else stopped calling me Anastasia when I spit in old Father McDonald’s face at age six. The fool told me that we were all sinners and only God could save us. His words disgusted me; someone had to take him off his high horse. Now everyone calls me Annie and Father McDonald still cringes whenever I am in his line of vision.

Maybe I would have grown into my name if my family and peers had not already given up hope on me. At first, I tried to live up to their expectations. I went to church every Sunday, I prayed the rosary twice a day, and I even became an altar server. Despite my efforts, I still failed to reach their standards. They never acknowledged all of the good things I did, but they never failed to acknowledge the bad things. As I went through my teen years, I stopped trying to please them. Why should I pretend to be something I am not when no one believes the person that I am trying to become?