This mother’s day hasn’t been that hard for me….and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Usually this weekend hits me like a steel toe to the gut. I’m hurled over crying for something that I can’t really explain. It’s more than mourning over a dead parent. It’s more complicated and even darker than death itself. It’s this bleak feeling that I’m cursed and destined for endless pain. Forever feeling different and inadequate because I never got to experience this whole unconditional mother’s love thing that apparently is god given to everyone but me.Read More
“The Truth Shall Set You Free”
I’ve always liked this phrase. I’ve heard it countless times from movies, The Oprah Show, and everyday conversations. Although, I didn’t realize this was a quote from The Bible. (I was born and raised atheist. Now I’m LA spiritual meaning: I own a yoga mat, a few crystals, and I look at the moon more). I didn’t buy a Bible, but I did look it up on the all-knowing google and discovered it’s meaning. So, truth (being Christianity) shall set you free. (Free of sin and misery and all that icky stuff). Okay. Cool. But is there a secular version of this that I can take and run with?Read More
I’m sad and restless and want someone to fuck. I’ve sexualized my feelings for so long that I equate sorrow with finger-banging. Unfortunately, I’m breaking old patterns and will not be looking for my next prisoner for my lust or a shirt to discreetly wipe my snot on. Nope. Nope. Nope. Instead, I’ll write. I’ll sit with my pain. I will breath in and out. I’ll blow my nose into a Kleenex. It’s not the same as having an orgasm, but such is life…meaning, life sucks.Read More
I flew home to New Orleans for Jazz Fest. But really, my reason was to confront my father about his sexual abuse. Although at the time, I didn’t refer to it as sexual abuse. I couldn’t comprehend what to call it. All I knew was that it was fucked up. It wasn’t a single event either. He had sex in front of me consistently through out my childhood up until I was a teenager. And even after that, there would be other inappropriate behaviors from showing me topless pictures of women that he photographed to assisting him with his dirty emails.Read More
Before I dive back into writing about my childhood and actively work on my book, I want to discuss why I’m doing this in the first place. No. Seriously. Why am I putting myself in this torturous position? It’s so hard. I’m dying! Send help! Or if you’re from my hometown, send a King Cake. I know it’s Mardi Gras season, ya’ll…Read More
I dated a sociopath for 3 months. Let’s call him, Chad. Most places would consider that to be a fling, but in Los Angeles, it’s referred to as a serious relationship. Now I’m not calling Chad a sociopath because I’m jaded. Trust me, I’ve dated lots of men, and I don’t label them all sociopaths. For example, one boyfriend I was with for most of my 20s, pushed me so hard during an argument that my body slammed into the wall. I fell while cutting my back on the sharp edge of an air freshener and began to bleed. I had a scar on my back for years. Same guy, different night, told me, “I want you to die…young.” He specifically added the word young knowing it would touch my deepest wound…the wound of my mother dying young when I was a baby. Annnnd…it did. Though at the time, my childhood pain was so buried. I had never dealt with any of it. But, he knew. He knew how sad her absence made me feel. He knew my acute fear of becoming just like her. I’ll never forget that moment. I instantaneously cried and was in shock with how much it affected me. I couldn’t stop shedding tears for days, and the confusion of why it scarred me so much made it even more painful. Now, was that guy an absolute dick? Yes. Was he physically and verbally abusive? Yes. But, was he a sociopath? I really don’t think so. There are a garden variety of jerks out there, but they’re not all sociopaths. With Chad though, there were no blows or cuts from air fresheners, just a web of lies…and honestly I think that’s worse. Okay, they’re both bad, but I still think Chad is worse.Read More
Sometimes my loneliness touches a wound inside me that runs so deep. It travels all the way back to past heartbreaks and losses and down to the core…the umbilical cord that once was. Snip. Snip. I feel like a helpless baby with no one around. No one to pick me up. No one to hold me and left to die. Oh, well.Read More
I’m taking a break this week from writing about my childhood woes because I want to get current. I know I’m choosing to do so, but hot damn it’s hard to face your past head on in a public platform.Read More
I grew up an atheist. My father taught me that all religious people were dumb, especially Catholics. Also, all religious people were awful human beings. They were the ones causing all the wars. He would get in fights with neighbors about abortions and the absurdity of their religion. He repeatedly stated that religion was for suckers. It was for those that were too weak to handle the reality of life. In fact, my dad was quite religious about being an atheist.Read More
Growing up, my dad would always tell me… your friends are your worst enemies because they take up all of your time. Practice the violin or read a book instead… be careful who you hang out with because they will bring you down. Also the classic hit…Trust no one. Simple, but to the point. He also planted misogynistic seeds into my head as well. Women aren’t as smart as men. Women aren’t as funny as men. They even change their last names to the man’s because they are less superior. He understood having sex (for his son, not so much for his daughter). So for awhile I never trusted women or even wanted to hang out with them. If I can’t fuck you or get a job from, then why hang out?Read More
I can’t remember a time when I liked my body. Even when I was a kid, way before puberty, we would visit my dad’s father who lived in the California mountains every summer. Grandpa would stick an empty water jug between my legs because I was knock-kneed. He thought that would straighten them out. Well, it didn’t. It just made me more self-conscious of my knees. Every time I saw a doctor, my dad would ask if I was overweight. The doctor would always shake his head no. Then puberty hit, and my body didn’t grow like how it was suppose to. I didn’t have cleavage like the girls on 90210 or the same size thighs as I saw on Dawson’s Creek. My stomach was round and Buffy’s was flat. No one looked like me.
I just saw Three Identical Strangers, and it got me thinking. Like a deep, sad sort of thinking. You know, the type of thinking that encompasses your whole body, where time freezes, or at least the concept of it vanishes as you think about your total life existence. Suddenly a burst of images, old feelings, a peculiar childhood memory flashes. You are reminded that you were once in a completely different body, in a completely different background, with a completely different sensibility. Yet the same soul, your soul, this soul has been there the entire time. It hits you in a way that it has never done before… what “they” say is right. You are a spiritual being living a human experience. You’ve heard this phrase before, and you’ve liked the idea of it, but now the clarity of it all, knocks you down to your soulful core. This epiphany, as if it has its own beating body, floats over you as you make eye contact with strangers walking down the street. You don’t smile. That would cheapen this experience. You simply see them. Your eyes search out theirs. You observe that they are spiritual beings engulfed in aloofness and fear. You realize that nothing really matters in this life so you might as well follow your desires because your life is led by your desires anyway. Listen to them. Nothing is too small or too big. Go out and seize the day. Stop beating yourself up. No one knows what they are doing. Why do you give people so much power over you? They are just tiny, confused creatures themselves that have popped up in your path. Some are good. Some are not so good. Focus on the good ones. They’re more important anyway. Seize this life. You have just as much of a right to live an extraordinary life as anyone else…. Annnnnnnnnd then some jackass honks at another jackass, and you impulsively roll your eyes and grind your teeth out of pure disgust for people’s road rage. And just like that, that feeling is gone and basically forgotten about.
I went to one of the most expensive private schools in the South called Country Day. It was located in Old Metairie, a suburb adjacent to New Orleans where all the rich, white people lived…the ones that voted for David Duke. We also lived in Old Metairie, walking distance from school. Or as I preferred, a 7 minute bike ride.Read More
The origin of the word gaslighting was that some guy farted in a dark room and then shinned the light at another person, declaring that he was the one that farted. The accused person drove himself to insanity because he was led to believe that he couldn’t even tell if he was farting or not. That’s the story, right?
Why do I feel like I'm plus size when I'm only a size 4, sometimes 6? Why do I clock a chubby woman when I see my reflection? How come my self-esteem just plummeted down into a dark hole of compare and despair? Why do I feel like I just got dumped when I wasn’t even in a relationship?
Sooooo….I’m freezing my eggs in a couple of weeks. That’s right. I’m being injected with a f*ck ton of estrogen and will hopefully release a lot of little eggs, and then place them in a mysterious freezer until further notice. Ahhhh…just how I imagined things would go when I was a 22 year old planning out my life.Read More
I don’t speak to my father. I haven’t had a conversation with him for over five years, and I haven’t seen him in nearly ten. As some of you know, my mother was murdered when I was a baby. He’s my only parent, yet I don’t return his phone calls, emails or texts. I’m basically ghosting my own father.Read More
Is there anything worse than Tinder conversing? Well, other than dying alone? Or worse, Bumble, where the woman has to send a witty message to a complete stranger while there’s a ticking clock? Dying alone doesn’t sound that bad after all.Read More
If your mother’s dead like mine or if you currently have a shit mom, then you might feel how I feel on Mother’s Day…sad, angry, jealous and profoundly heartbroken. If that’s not already bad enough, you’re then surrounded by people celebrating and rejoicing in gratitude for the exact same thing that has inflicted you so much pain.Read More