All these false heroes, were only ever here, to disappoint me relentlessly, until I realized that the only hero I should ever depend on is the one that lives inside of myself. That is all I know.


Man Overboard!

I blocked a guy today. It wasn’t easy and I know it’s immature. In some ways it hurt, because I really liked this guy and still do. But in other ways, I think it was easier than trying to explain the 5,000 knots in my mind to someone who could never make sense of the mess. I took the cowardly road. I know for a fact that he would never have done that to me. But in my defense, he was the guy who made me feel like a Godess one day and invisible nothing the next. And that is the cruelest shit you can do to a person.

My heart is a ship sailing into oblivious adventure. This guy was playing twister, with limbs stretching out from the shore, but never really giving up the sand.  

That guy mistook my kindness for weakness.  

Fuck that guy.

Dear Mama

I had forgotten a really big piece of my healing journey.  After my divorce, I went through an incredible transformative phase. It was the first time in my life when I began to cultivate some self worth. The first thirty years of my life, I had none. And now that I’ve laid myself down in the greener pastures of self love, I could never imagine going back to the dead yellow grasses of self loathing. However, during this transformation, I neglected to forgive and love my mom. And here’s why that is a key ingredient to my healing process.  

My mom sees the world a lot differently than I do. She sees people as objects to compare with herself, as you are either a hero or a villain in her book. Her heroes are few, but the small group of people that fall into that category, to her they can do no wrong. Those are the people who personify her ideas of perfection. Those are the people she aspires to become.

And then she has her villains, anyone she sees as less than herself. People she feels threatened by. I have always been the rebellious child, lashing out at her beige world with a paintbrush soaked in my own bright red reality.  

People have a natural instinct to love their mother. But when that love goes unrequited, it’s devastating. A kid is supposed to be able to count on their own mom for love and support. I couldn’t. I carried around an empty cup. It should have been filled with my mother’s love. But instead I filled it with binge drinking, disconnected sex, and enough resentment to take out a small army.  

So I began to despise my mother. I blamed her for my shortfalls in relationships and life. I hated her. I dropped her into the villain box and began to treat her the same way she had treated me. In my eyes, she wasn’t enough. She didn’t measure up. She couldn’t do anything right.  

But what I failed to realize, was that she was still my mother. She created me out of her own flesh. She brought me into this world. She gave me nourishment and taught me her language. I am her. She shows up in my mannerisms, my eyes, and my smile. Her voice is the voice in the back of my head. It’s the voice that taught me how to navigate the world. It’s the voice of my inner critic. My mother’s mind, body, and soul are ingrained into my own. So no matter how much energy I put into self love, if I hate my mother, I hate myself.  

So I am making the conscious effort to forgive her for not being able to love me in the way that I need. And I am able to truly accept her version of love, because my cup is filled with my own self love now.  

And I will fill her cup too. Because she is my mom and she has always loved me, the best that she can. And so I will continue to love her the best that I can.  And hopefully one day I won’t have to work at it.

Valentine’s Day 

In honor of being single on Valentine’s Day, I would like to take this opportunity and write about heartache. Getting your heart broken is probably the worst part about being human. Every person I know is terrified of it. If a broken heart wasn’t so painful, we would saturate ourselves in vulnerability. But no one does. Every single person I know is so hungry for love, to feel loved, to submit to love. Every one I know has an instinct to be accepted completely by another person. We are driven towards validation.  
And yet I’ve met very few who were able to let their guard down and place their heart in another person’s hands. At this point in my life, I’d rather give someone a kidney, than give them my heart.  

And I hate that I feel that way. If heartache wasn’t real, I would give my heart out every chance I could get. But heartache is real. And after you experience it, you never forget how it feels to give your heart so graciously to someone who drops it on the dirty floor.  It hurts.

There is also something very beautiful about heartache. It’s that sweet feeling you get, after you step back into the world with your newly independent feet. It’s that warm feeling you get, having a beer and watching a sexy young Brad Pitt get naked in Thelma and Louise by yourself on a Friday night.  It’s that feeling of wearing your cute new slippers and robe on a rainy day.   It’s cuddling with your friend Charlie (my cat) and sharing a plate of the amazing salmon I just made.  At least someone appreciates my culinary skills.

Jesus Christ, Brad Pitt looks damn good in this movie!  I do believe she owed him that money.

Seriously though, I love the way I take care of myself when I don’t have to take care of anyone else. I love the feeling I get when I tackle some situation that is hard for a single mom and I knock it out of the park. Hell, even if I don’t knock it out of the park, I love the feeling I get when I try. I really do feel happier on my own. I love that my house is my house and I don’t have some man bullying me around in it. I love that I work harder to feel happy because I am all I’ve got. I’m also all my kids have got. I love that feeling I get when I find a little piece of my long lost identity hidden in some extraordinarily mundane moment.  I love single me.

So, I have decided to write my own astrology reading for Valentine’s Day. I have written hundreds of astrology readings for people around the world.  But I have never written an analysis of my own chart.  Here it goes…

As a Libra sun and rising, with all of my planets equally divided between Scorpio and Virgo, my life is a swinging scale of opposites. I always find myself leaning between the emotional intuition of Scorpio and the critical logic of Virgo. I feel pulled to feel something and my brain drags me back to reality. I come from two families, one with traditional values and one with intelligent heathens.  I am the dirty virgin and the virtuous witch.I want love but I hate when I have it. I have big ideas but I talk myself out of them. I see both sides to everything. And so I see the good in evil people and I see the many imperfections of good people. I have the innate ability to sprinkle pixie dust over reality. And I can whittle a dream down to the bone. Every person in my life is a hero and a villain. I find myself in long stretches of solitude and I use that precious time to heal, to have adventures, to fall in love with my own life. I also find myself wandering away from solitude from time to time because I am a Libra after all, and Libras are always tempted by love. As I get older, I will find myself molding these contrasts together, and that is where I will find true happiness.  That is where I will change my world.