As most of you know I did a stage show called “Listen To Your Mother” on Mother’s day. It was one of the bravest and most life-altering things I’ve ever done.

So many things have changed and happened because I submitted that piece. I’ve started this blog. I’ve been speaking up. I’ve been realizing that I deserve more. Huge things.

The YouTube video was released in early July. I just brushed that aside. I’ll watch it later.

Since then, I’ve clicked on it about a dozen times and always turn it off immediately when I start speaking. For some reason I didn’t want to see myself. I didn’t want to judge myself. Couldn’t.

Well, today was the day. I watched it. All of it. And you know what? I did a good job. I did.

So, for those that have been waiting for me to post the link, here you go: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZcWKD6VOPQ&list=PL5oPQWgVdsDm5di3nYoo9oakXebLm9X-H&index=7

And to all the ladies that were in the show, please know that I carry a bit of your stories with me every day still. You all touched me in ways that I can never express. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Here’s to a happy day!

Summer has taken hold of me and won’t let go.

It has picked me up with its salty hands and put me on solid ground. I can feel its hot breath on my neck and feel it cradling me and telling me that everything is going to be OK.

I’ve been incredibly blessed this summer with more love and understanding than I think I deserve. Friends are showing me the way to happiness. They are holding me and not letting me sink down in defeat. They are lifting me up and loving ME — imperfect, filled-to-the-brim-with-flaws ME. And I’m so grateful. So much so, that I feel the need to make a list.

My Grateful List of the Summer

* Seeing my kids cuddle in the morning and hearing the sweet words they whisper to each other.

* Old friends that get me and bring out my silly side, the part of me, if I’m totally honest, I love the most about myself.

* New friends that continue to amaze me with their depth, honesty and love.

* Discovering that making people smile is BY FAR my favorite thing in the entire world.

* Watching my daughter yell and tease the waves, feeling the power of the ocean in her tiny frame.

* Seeing my boy’s love affair with books grow daily and finding him reading in bed with a flashlight. “Just one more chapter mom.” The best.

* Watching my husband process my changes and see him trying to meet me where I am. I see it babe.

* Being trusted by a friend with a secret and feeling honored to have earned that trust.

* Speaking my mind and then having that person not got away. Huge.

* Watching my daughter finally find her courage to swim under the water and seeing the look of pride on her face after.

* Spending my summer days with no agenda, free to go where we wish and stay as long as we like. A privledge that we might not have again.

* Being loved.

* Seeing my son greet each experience with a sense of adventure and fun.

* Having two vacations at the beach — both filled with so many moments that I won’t forget.

* Having a mother that understands, accepts and loves me. Really huge.

* Writing. I’ve started a book and any moment I’m in that world, I’m grateful to be there.

* Kindness. From the friendly smile of my favorte grocery clerk Wayne, to the generosity of friends inviting us to dinner, swimming or a vacation with them, I’m surrounded by kindness.

I know I’m leaving out so much, but that’s the nature of summer. I’m taking a cue from nature and living in the warmth and light. I’m taking every experience that presents itself and drinking it all in. My cup of gratitute is spilling over. I have plenty to share.

So, if you need some, come over. I’ll pour you a glass.

Cheers friends!

So, if you’ve been around me for two minutes or read my blog, you know I’ve been battling the forces of darkness and not always getting the upper hand. It’s a crappy reality. But I just had a revelation. I need Mickey Mouse!!

OK. I know that’s a silly statement. Ridiculous, you might say. But, so what? It’s the truth. I need a trip to Disneyland. Like stat.

Our finances don’t make it possible, so… guess, what? I’m going to take a little trip, right here, to the happiest place on earth and I’m going be happy. You got that. Happy!!!

I want you to come, so let’s go.

I have this enor’mouse’ (hehe) bus that I’ve rented just for the occasion. We can all fit. There is this magic partition that allows all the adults to be on one side and all the kids on the other. Genius.

There are special “mamma” drinks for us girls and we spend the entire trip talking about silly things and giggling. Lots and lots of giggling. The husbands drink beer and talk about how adorable and cute all the wives are. We don’t even hear the kids. They are happily singing and eating organic snacks and being perfect. PERFECT.

So we get there in no time at all. “Wow,” we all say, “that was fast.”

We check into the hotel and they treat us like royalty. We have our own private floor with a personal chef, an entire playroom for the kids (including trampolines and every toy they can imagine). Oh, and the room is filled with new clothes for all, lots of chocolate and fun “adult” drinks. Yep.

We have a fun “restful” evening and then are ready to hit the park the next day. Everyone gets up happy and nobody is tired. Not even a little. We all get dressed in our cutesy matching t-shirts (because that would be cool, right?)

The park opens early, just for us. All the kids are feeling brave, excited and not the least bit whiny. We head first to Pirates of the Caribbean, because I love that ride. Everyone agrees that is where to start. On the way we pass and get our pictures taken with every character the kids wanted to see. Happy smiles all around.

The ride is awesome. Like always. We exit singing, “Yo, Ho, Yo, Ho, A Pirate’s Life for Me” at the top of our lungs. The kids ask US what we want to do next. Nobody argues. We head to Space Mountain and EVERYONE is tall enough, brave enough and there is NO line. We scream and laugh.

The day continues, one ride after the next with so much fun and excitement. Peter Pan. It’s a Small World. Thunder Mountain. Haunted House. Splash Mountain. The fun just keeps going. Nobody gets tired.

We eat delicious, healthy food and everyone loves it.

The kids keep giving us hugs and kisses and saying things like “you are the best mom” and “thank you.”

At the end of the day we watch a private fireworks show in front of the castle. All the characters arrive and we dance and sing with them long into the night.

Tinker Bell gives me a ride on her flying wire. Mary Poppins and I sing a duet of “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.” Prince Charming and I dance under the stars (making my husband a little jealous). Goofy and I hang out, just because. The kids run amok and end up eating fistfuls of honey with Winnie Pooh and bouncing around with Tigger.

Starting to feel sleepy we get a comfortable carriage ride back to our suite. The kids instantly, and blissfully, drift off to sleep with big smiles on their faces.

I sit outside on the balcony and it’s a full moon. My husband and I are alone and he professes his love so ridiculously that I giggle. Then we drift off to sleep in a huge bed and sleep as long as we want.

Ahh…that was fun.

Think I might do that again soon. Want to join me again? Maybe we will take a cruise next time, or travel to Europe. My treat.

There is so much ugly and pain. Sometimes it’s all I can see. And I hate it.

When I get in that place, I know it’s impossible to be around me. Everything is wrong and I fail to see any good. The weight of everything presses on me from all angles. I start to forget my breath. I start living in this place of survival. Just getting from one task to the other. It’s not pretty. And I hate it.

I start reading news stories and wallowing in the misery of the world. There is so much pain to live in. I start thinking of lives cut short, of abuse and anger, of mistakes and what-could-of-beens. Nobody can pull me out when I’m in deep. No rope. No kind words. It is only me. And I hate it.

But that’s just one side.

Yes, it’s hideous, disgusting, painful and cruel. But I have to go there. It’s part of me. I need to see ugly and feel the pain. I need its raw, unnerving truth to smack me in the face. It’s only when I get there that I can see what really matters and the place I want to live: beauty.

My life is easy. I’m a stay-at-home mother of two healthy, beautiful, amazing children. I have friends and family who give me more than I deserve. The intensity of that truth is just as powerful. It’s beautiful.

When I start drinking in the beauty and blessings, the darkness slips away for a while. I find my breath again. Moments become more alive and I see colors. I can let go of the guilt and pain of having so much and just feel thankful. It’s beautiful.

I was running this morning in the early morning light of 4 a.m. I could hear only my breath and the soft rhythm of my feet. I could feel my body awakening and coming back to life. The moon was winking at me softly surrounded by wispy clouds and stars. It was so beautiful.

So, today, I choose to live in beauty. I know the darkness is there and will always be. But I need some light. Bring on love, freckles, ice cream, swimming, silly dances, cuddles, crazy kisses, stuffy parties, pillow fights and connection.

Here’s to beauty!

Hope I didn’t lose all of you. I’m finding it impossible to put into words all the amazing, hard, beautiful and, yes, ugly things that have been happening with me. It’s just…so much.

As I grow and change and assert myself, there are some growing pains. I’m tilting sideways and not finding my balance yet. I’ve got people pulling on all sides. I’m split open. Torn. Bleeding.

I left my family for a spontaneous road trip with a friend. This is the first time I’ve left my family since my son was born 8 ½ years ago. We saw the ocean and breathed it in. I felt a sense of falling into my old self. Finding someone other than mother and wife. But it was fleeting.

I spent countless hours planning and creating a birthday for my beautiful now six-year-old daughter. It was a gorgeous, hot day filled with hiking, fairies, gnomes, costumes, good friends, laughs and fun. Watching my daughter grow continues to fill me with awe. She is wise, beautiful, a great friend, feisty, creative, deep and she breaks me open with her eyes. Those eyes. She climbs into my soul and I get lost just rubbing her back or touching that beautiful hair. And don’t even get me started on her freckles.

We celebrated the last week of school and I tried, clumsily and without really succeeding, to tell all the teachers at my children’s school how much I love them and appreciate them. I can never fully do that. They can never quite understand the impact they have on our lives. Knowing my children are loved, seeing the beauty of my son’s schoolwork and celebrating with both class parties, was beyond words. Having my husband share in the entire last day is even harder to explain.

My darling “summer daughter” was here for 10 days and we tried to pack an entire summer into those days. They flew by. Although we did big things, like Marine World, Sun Splash and Pier 39 in San Francisco, my favorite moments were the ones when she just talked and I listened. She is 15 and growing up so fast. I loved hearing about her life, her friends, seeing her grow and find her path. She is an amazing person and I can’t wait to see what she does with her life. It’s going to be beautiful.

So much to be thankful for, yet, I’m not feeling happy and content. I’m more like a flower whose petals keep getting ripped off. Each one is beautiful and it’s wonderful to see the petals float up in the breeze and dance away…but there isn’t many left. What will happen when it’s only stem?

I’ve been haunted by my dreams.

I’m standing on the beach. It’s peaceful. I’m calm. A big wave pushes me down and I sink to my knees. I’m stuck. I can’t move. The waves start crashing over me and I can’t breathe. I brace myself as they keep slamming into me. Panic sets in and I wake.

I’m standing on a busy street corner and people are whizzing by. I can see them talking, but it’s like a buzzing sound. I can’t make out any words. I feel lost and confused. I try to talk, but my voice is gone. I realize then that I can’t move. I can just stand still and watch everyone rush around me. I panic. I want to scream. To thrash. To be seen. Then I wake.

There are more, but they are all basically the same thing. Feeling trapped and full of anxiety. I know these are growing pains and they are ultimately good for me. But I hate this.

So, my dear friends who read this, please be patient with me. I know I’ve not been present when we are together. I know I’ve been drinking too much. I know that you see it and feel it. Please know that I appreciate every kind word. Every hug. Every happy moment we share. Time will heal me and help me to see my path more clearly.

I just need time.

Oh, and chocolate.

“You are just gorgeous”

“You are literally glowing”

“You got your mojo back, can you help me find mine?”

These were said to me. ME! This week. Really.

I want to breathe these words in. Savor them. Keep them in my pocket.

Things are changing. It’s good, hard, beautiful and ugly. It’s life.

I’ve been writing about all these internal battles happening, but other things are happening that I can’t write here. Everything is happening for a reason, though, and that is to move me forward. I’m finding my voice and living the way I want. And it feels really good.

Have you heard the song “Brave” by Sara Bareilles? Why not? You should! I’ve been blaring it every morning while I make breakfast and singing the lyrics at the top of my lungs. My children think I’m crazy, but I can live with that. Just a sample of the awesomeness of this song:

Maybe there’s a way out of the cage where you live

Maybe one of these days you can let the light in

Show me how big your brave is

Say what you wanna say

And let the words fall out

Honestly I wanna see you be brave

So, I’m saying what I want and everything is changing.

I’m running. I switched, just this morning, to running at 4 a.m. (because, honesty, 6 p.m. is getting too hot and the people in my neighborhood drive me crazy.) It was joyful. Stars. Moon. No people. Cool air. One guy smoking on his patio, but he is ALWAYS there. The sky changing ever so slightly to a greenish hue on the horizon, the hint of the day to come. I can get used to this. I’m on week 4 of my program and now run a total of 16 minutes (broken up still with walking). Huge improvement. I’ve always wanted to be a runner. Now I believe I can.

I started guitar lessons from my dear, talented friend. This is also a dream of mine. My fingers hurt and I’ve only learned one chord, but I love it. I have something to practice and create on. I have faith that I will make that guitar sing and we will be awesome together. It will just take time and desire. I have both.

I’ve started writing. A lot. I’m journaling, writing song lyrics and even started a book that’s been rattling around in my head in various forms for years. It’s exhilarating to get lost in words. To take the images in my head and use language to translate them to paper. I’m using a pen and paper, not just the keyboard. I have missed the feeling of just letting the pen move across the paper, no editing, no backspacing, no cut-and-paste. It’s freeing.

I even did a little crafting this week. I’m planning my daughters birthday. She will be 6 (we are NOT talking about that). I’m making dozens of fairies and gnomes for her friends to “discover” on the hike by our house. Yes, it’s a hiking party. How awesome is that? Her idea! I love this kid.

Did I mention I baked cookies and bread this week too? I had started to HATE baking and cooking, but then my sweet friend told me how much she LOVES my bread. How special it is to her, and, like a switch, I love it again. I had forgot how much happiness homemade food can bring someone. No, I still don’t LOVE all the dishes and dirtiness of my kitchen, but I do enjoy making people happy.

My house is a mess. I forgot the ENTIRE chicken I cooked yesterday on the counter last night because I lost myself in fairy-making. I almost left the house yesterday without the kid I carpool with because I was writing in my head all morning. Didn’t give the kids baths last night, even though they needed them, because I wanted to snuggle with them longer.

I will take it. All of it.

To have creative energy back in my life…that’s everything.

I’m 10-years-old and having a sleepover at my best friends house. She is on the bed and I’m on the floor. She is angry with me.

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” she says. “It’s driving me crazy.”

“Sorry,” I automatically respond.

“What is wrong with you? Stop being sorry already!” she yells and playfully throws a pillow at me.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I say while bursting into giggles and throwing another one back.

Truth is, I am sorry. Always so damn sorry.

I’m trying to stop cycles in my life that do nothing to propel me forward. During this process I’m demanding things that I’ve been missing far too long, things that I deserve and need in my life. But this feeling sorry stuff…it can go. Like, now!

I seem to hold onto pain and feel responsible, even when it’s completely illogical and wrong. The result is I feel powerless, overwhelmed and just so sad. And there is so, so much in this world to feel sorry about. It brings me to my knees. Often.

How do I change this pattern and start feeling empathy without personal sorrow? What needs to happen so that I can do something constructive and helpful, instead of looking on with a big, fat useless sorry in my throat?

I don’t know. All I do know is that things have to change.

When I wrote my piece for the Listen To Your Mother show, I had no idea that anyone would want to read it. I was worried that I was bragging and that it was just plain awful. It took so much inner struggle to get me past the audition process. But I moved on.

Then, after I was cast, the fear was so great that I almost bolted. Several times. But as the process went on, something changed. A sense of calm came over me that I can’t explain. When I finally stepped up to that microphone, I was not nervous. I had this sense that everyone in the room was rooting for me and that they all wanted to hear what I had to say. It was no time for sorry.

But, after all was said and done, I was sorry. Sorry for the stories that did not get heard. Sorry for the pain and heartache that was shared. Sorry that I have the privilege to make parenting choices, when others are struggling with life and death. Basically, I was STILL sorry that I was here and that I’ve had these blessing in my life when others seem to have been given so many struggles.

Sorry dripping with guilt.

Stupid. Pointless. All it serves is to rob me of MY joy and MY happiness.

ENOUGH! Let it go already! You are not required to live a life with your head bent in permanent sadness for everyone in pain. You are allowed to be happy. You should be happy. Everyone should!!!

So, guess what? SORRY – you are banished. I am ripping you from my gut and throwing you in a hole in my backyard. I stomp with both feet as hard as I can on your stupid, ugly face. You have no power over me anymore.

I don’t need YOU to be a good person. I can still feel love and be loved. I can hold my friends hands and hug them when life gets too hard for us. When life is terrible, my lovelies, I can help hold you up, but it will be from a place of strength and courage. I can love myself without finding meaning in my sympathy for others.

So I grow some more. I take another step in finding my voice and courage.

Be gentle with me as I navigate the road ahead. It’s scary and I might need to hold your hand. But don’t you DARE feel SORRY for me.