Open letter to the worst year of my life

Dear 2014,

You won't be missed by me. If you were a person I would choke you to death with my bare hands.

You have taken so much from me. You have taken one of my best friends and role models. You have taken my father. You have taken my only sibling. You have taken my sense of safety in my home. You have taken my innocence. You have killed whoever I was before you showed up.

Thank you, you difficult terrible year.

You taught me that I can do anything. And I mean anything.  I made my father's funeral arrangements. I drove myself 4 hours round trip to pick up my brother's ashes. I have held my sons while they shook with grief over the loss of their favorite (only) Uncle. I went to bed in my house alone with a backdoor that barely shut after it was kicked in by thieves who stole my family heirlooms. I have eulogized the best person I have ever known. I have hired two lawyers, attended four funerals, and cried in public innumerable times.

But I have survived you.

I even found some ways to thrive.

I enjoyed dates with charming men (and some not so charming men). I hunted horseshoe crabs with my boys on a deserted beach. I laughed until tears rolled down my face with my best girlfriends on the dock by the bay. I have thrown birthday parties and lively dinners. I made new friends. I drank cold beer and sat late into the night by bonfires. I hugged so tightly so many. I ate fried green tomatoes and charred octopus. I danced in the street. More than once.

I didn't die. I'm still here.

I'm still here, but when midnight strikes you'll be gone.

The struggle and pain you've brought has opened my eyes to the beauty of this life, the great awesomeness of being alive. Without you I wouldn't know the depth of true friendship. Without you I wouldn't have risked vulnerability so easily or often. Without you I wouldn't have finally forgiven myself. Forgiven him. Forgiven us all. Without you I would still be afraid. I am no longer afraid.
    
I got this.

So 2014, I still want to stab your eyes out with a plastic fork. But since you are neither animate nor in possession of eyes, I'll be content just to leave you with these parting words:

Kiss my grits.
-N.

The 1 thing you should do when your friend is going through a difficult time

In case you didn't know, life really sucks sometimes.

Be nice to people who are going through whatever totally horrible sad and stressful thing. They need your love and kindness more than your advice. If they ask for your advice or opinion, then they want it. Otherwise, please keep your opinions and advice to yourself. You will be saving your friend from having a moment (or more) of hating you for being a know-it-all buttinski. 

When you have your crisis you can do it any old way you see fit. And feel any kind of way you want.

And I will get you drunk and make you laugh. I promise.

12 wrong ways to live your life

This post has been sitting around for months. So I decided to just let it go. So here it is.



There's no right way to live, but there are lots of wrong ways.

Wrong way #1: Living someone else's dream

You know this old nugget: follow your bliss. For real, do it. Other people don't get to tell you how to live. Not your kids. Not your parents. Not your spouse. Not your boss. Not me.

Wrong way #2: By the book

I know people who are always saying things like "I can't" or "I shouldn't", because whatever the idea or activity is falls outside some proscribed way to be alive, dictated by a mythology/religion, gender norms, cultural baggage or just straight-up fear. That's crap. You can do whatever you want with your life. There really is no one true path. There are zero rules. There is wisdom. There are good ideas. But there are no rules.

Wrong way #3: Only for other people

Other people are so awesome. I know some I love almost as much as I love myself. It's like thisclose. My kids. My mom. My closest friends. You have them too. But I don't live my life for any of them. I live my life for me. And the byproduct of me living my own life is that I'm happier, more able to be present with the people I love. I can also be an example of someone who does her thing. And you can do your own thing while being a responsible, ethical, and dependable adult. These ideas are not mutually exclusive.

Wrong way #4: With a never-ending to-do list

Put down the list, ladies. For realz. Holy hell. Here's some TRUTH for you:

You will never do everything on your list. And that's ok.

I love a good list. I make a short to-do list everyday but rarely pay much attention to it afterwards. Lists are my way to think through the day and maybe prioritize, not the map for my life. Because there are things that I will never write on my lists that are more important than calling the dentist: sitting with my little guy and cuddling, texting a friend who needs a smile, grabbing a beer with a buddy. You know, life stuff. Life is not a list. It's an activity.

Wrong way #5: Holding a grudge

Let it go. Seriously, that anger and hurt is just weighing you down. It's not doing one thing to the other guy. Seriously, stop wasting your life focusing on the past. Let it go.

Wrong way #6: Too safe

It is way too easy to play life too safe. It's easy to listen to the conventional wisdom (which is often wrong, by the way). It's easy to fall into the grooves and traps of adult life. Don't do it. Take a risk once in a while. Get a new haircut. Buy the red dress. Change jobs. Go salsa dancing. Whatever. Just go do something new and exciting.

Wrong way #7: Quietly

Speak up. Take up space. Do not apologize when you speak up. Do not minimize yourself. You have a right to take up space. Be big.

Wrong way #8: Waiting

What in the hell are you waiting for? "The right time"? It's never coming. It will never be the right time to get married or have a baby or change jobs or learn French. Sure, you have to think about things like an adult, but after a certain amount of planning you just have to go for it. Or else you never do. No one is prepared for the big stuff, but once you're in it you figure it out.

Wrong way #9: Taking it personally

The best advice I can give you is that it is almost never about you. When people are assholes to you, its just them venting some hurt. You are just a target. Sometimes they are afraid of you. Sometimes they are jealous of you. Sometimes they are just assholes. Don't internalize their bullshit. You have enough of your own hurt to deal with. Let the haters hate, but don't ever think they are really talking about you.

Wrong way #10: Without gratitude

Be grateful everyday for this life you have. It is a miracle to be alive. Don't just say the words. BE grateful. Your life will expand and light up in so many ways.

Wrong way #11: Passionless

A life without passion isn't really a life. If there is nothing or no one who captivates you, makes you want to just eat them up, nothing that stirs your curiosity, well then get to it. Start trying things out. What would you do if you could do anything at all? Go do it, in whatever way you can. Make time for your writing, your art, your volunteer work, your lover. Seriously, schedule that stuff in there between the gym and the dentist. You NEED it.

Wrong way #12: In another time

Be here now. There is no other place to be. 

Love is...love

One major piece of wisdom I am taking from 2013 is about love. This is probably the most important lesson of (my) life, really. I'm not being hyperbolic.

There is only one type of love.

We label love as platonic, romantic, familiar, parental, etc. but it's all just love. Love isn't any different if it is between a mother and son or lifelong friends. It's no different between brothers as it is between lovers. Not really. 

What does "love" really mean? To hold another's well-being as the same as your own. To help that person be happy, healthy and fulfilled. To want to share the best of you with that person. To help ease the other's burdens. To listen, see, and know the other. Or at least do your damnedest to see, hear and know the other.

So in life we have loves who leave us, die, move away, fall out of touch, disappear. But does the love go away? I've been thinking about these lines from Arcade Fire's song "Afterlife": 

Oh when love is gone
Where does it go?
And where do we go?

In those times of transition, when things change or fall apart, that's when love is tested. That's when we see if what we called love was not just something easier, less than. Real love is hard. It's not easy or cheap or something that just disappears with a harsh word or a forgotten promise. Real love lives even after we die or our relationships change. Real love is forever.

We may call it something else, but love lives on. We may try to numb it, squash it or hide it. But if it was ever really there; it will persist. It will change. It will take a different form, but be made of the same essence. 

So if I love you today, I will always love you. If I loved you before, I still do. And if we someday happen to grow love between us, well that will be here long after we are not. 

Vulnerability ain't for sissies

Vulnerability is everywhere in my little world. Everybody is talking about it. Brene Brown is all over the place in my facebook feed. So, hey Universe! I get it! I'm paying attention.

Vulnerability is terrifying. It's uncomfortable. It makes me want to hide. And yet, I crave it, dare myself to bare myself. Just look at things I write about here. Some of these posts took all the courage I have to hit publish. Others were tear-soaked and sweat-stained (virtually). Vulnerability, being open to connection, being honest, true self-expression - this is super-human stuff. Our egos hate vulnerability, will do anything to stop it. Egos tell us that no one will like us if they know the truth. Egos like to keep us in our little box, our safe little box. Our safe little lonely box.

But I want to add something to this conversation about the power of vulnerability. I think the power to turn off, to protect, to tell someone to "fuck off" is equally valuable. Some times people are assholes. Some people don't deserve our authentic selves. Some people are too locked in their own boxes to connect with us, not matter how open and vulnerable we are.

Don't waste your time or your precious energy on those people. Sure give them the chance to see you are the real deal, but if they don't respond in kind, even to make the attempt to connect in a real way - move on. See you later, man! 

Life is too short and you are too precious to waste your gorgeous self on someone who can't even see you, let alone honor and respect you. This goes for everybody, not just significant others. Don't let their inability to see you and honor you shut you down.

Shine on you crazy diamond.

11 Lessons from the First (Hardest) Days

Earlier this year my partner and I decided to separate and continue to co-parent our boys, 50/50. That's right- equal parenting in separate houses. The kids spend half the time with me in the "old house" and the other half of the time with their dad in the "new house". 

The past few months have been challenging, to speak euphemistically. Just the logistical changes have been exhausting and confusing. In this list I'll focus (mainly) on the co-parenting aspect of things. In a future post I'll talk about the inner stuff and the kids' stuff.

1. There are many ways to parent. Many of them are "right". My co-parent and I are different people with different parenting styles. There are lots of shared traits and values, but there are also some big differences. Neither way is "right", or rather, they are both "right". Life in Daddy's house is one way and life in Mommy's house is another way. Both ways are good for the kids. 

2. Friendship and respect are essential for a healthy co-parenting relationship. I think they are essential just to do the work of caring for your kids. Without the mutual care and respect, it would be very difficult to ask for help or request a change to the schedule. I don't know how people live in acrimonious co-parenting situations. I would lose it. Separating and co-parenting is difficult even in the most "ideal" circumstances.

3. Ignore what other people think. They do not live your life. Yes, sometimes people give good, thoughtful,caring advice. That stuff you know when you hear it, and you should consider those things. I'm talking about the subtle (and not so subtle) judgements and ignorant or intrusive questions. It's funny how people will feel free to ask me all kinds of things that they never would have asked before. I know its mostly out of love or shock or a need to understand what will never be explained satisfactorily. It's not my job to explain my life to anyone. To quote the great poet Jay Z, "Either love me or leave me alone".

4. People react to the news of a separation in a few different ways: fear, shock, and pity. The pity makes me want to rip out eyeballs and shove them down the sewer. Don't pity me. Project on somebody else, please. The fear is interesting because its almost as if the break-up is contagious. You can see the thoughts cross their faces: "If they can split up and everything seemed good between them....well, is it going to happen to me?!" I say this because I have had these same thoughts. It's human. No, it isn't contagious as far as I can see.

5. Protect your children from the adult issues/concerns. Those details will only confuse and scare them. Just tell them the facts and let them make some decisions/choices. Don't over-explain. Kids don't understand what adult romantic relationships/marriages are about. So don't put that stuff on them. They care about Mommy and Daddy, playing with their friends, and their toys. Trust me, that's about it.

6. Family time is essential. Doing things as a foursome on a regular basis has helped us all so much with the transition. This might not work well for other situations, but if you can stand to be in the same room/car/park as your ex, well then plan some family time for this month. I think it helps the kids and adults know that we are still all in this together. We will always be a family.

7. People will judge and offer advice. Let them. Then refer to #3. Seriously, let people say whatever it is they want to say (within limits). I find it is easier to listen to them or at least just bear it. They will get it out; you can then move on to other things. People don't actually expect you to do what they think you should do, they just want to get all their 'You should's' out. And on occasion, you just might get something worth considering. 

8. Honesty. Openness. Communication. Without the ability to be honest about my feelings, needs and wants this separation would be awful. I can tell my co-parent (former partner? What do we call each other now?) that I'm feeling sad or worried about the kids or that I need him to get his damn stuff out of my house (really, I mean it.). We have had some of the best communication over the last few months, better than the bulk of our ten years together. You can probably hazard some guesses why. I'm not going to here. 

9. Keep an open heart and mind. Love doesn't just disappear. Anger and hatred are not inevitable. Don't get dragged down by the petty stuff. It's all petty stuff. 

10. Focus on the big picture. Don't get caught up in the spreadsheet of life of who owes what to whom. Be brave enough to be generous and open. Keep your eye on the prize of healthy, happy, loving children. Everything else is just details and noise.

11. Growth comes through struggle. Being your own woman is liberating. Seriously. As much as all of this has been terrifying and heart-breaking; it has been equally freeing and strengthening. This separation might be the best thing for us all in the end. I really believe it is. 

'Being Here Now' with kids

I am awful at being present with my kids. I admit it. It's the one thing I carry Mommy Guilt about. There's always something else to do, think about, listen to, clean. And then sometimes I just don't want to talk about Hello Kitty or how fast that Matchbox car just went.

Bad Mommy.

So in an effort to improve myself, I have as a part of my Nerd Fitness 6 Week Challenge Missions - Be Present with My Boys.

But what the hell does that really mean?

I have NO clue.

I want to sit on the floor and play Thomas the Tank Engine board games with them. Well, I want to want to do it. But I don't want to do it. Not most of the time. It's really a stupid game with no point. I know, Bad Mommy.

But I think (I hope) being present is more than actually playing on the floor with them or listening to their inane chatter about what T.J. did at daycare.

It's honoring their little spirits and seeing who they truly are. It's being Mama Namaste. My light will honor the light in them, in all their loud, dirty, annoying, clever, silly, amazing-ness.

It's accepting their hugs and their criticism, as both being valid and true.

It's measuring my tone and remembering that how you say it means more than what you say. It means not calling their toys, games and tv shows "stupid". I know, I'm a 12 year old.

It's dance parties, ice cream for dinner, rainy walks, pillow fights, frog catching, stone throwing, and paper airplane making. It's all the things.

It's not being perfect. I know that I'll never be perfect. I don't even want to be perfect. I'm too lazy and selfish for all that. But I do want to KNOW my children. KNOW their little souls, their big dreams, their deepest fears. Right now, I don't think they always like me and I don't really like me either. No matter what is going in in my life/head/heart, I am still their Mommy. That never changes. It's the greatest gift and the most burdensome burden. It scares the shit out of me, to be the mother of these amazing creatures. They have no idea what a jerk I can be. Ok, yeah they TOTALLY know what a jerk I can be. I think I might be the jerkiest to them. Oh man, that stings.

But how do I become more present with these boys? How do I shut down my monkey mama mind and just be with them, see them, hear them?

I don't know. But I'm hoping a regular yoga and mindfulness practice will help me. I'm hoping that this is a habit I can build, one day at a time. It's either this or I'm paying for a whole lot of therapy later.

Guest post at Radical Hateloss

I am so very excited and honored to be included with the fierce and radical ladies over at Radical Hateloss. Stephanie Vincent, the mind and spirit behind Radical Hateloss, invited me to share an insight or experience about my relationship with my body. The result is: From Thick Thighs to Thick Thighs.

I plan on writing much more about my journey as a woman and a mother in the context of my relationship with my body, some triumphant and others quite painful. I believe by sharing honestly, and risking vulnerability, we can move past these conditioned beliefs and behaviors to a more authentic and joyful lives in our bodies. The bodies we have right now. I have a lot to say about issues related to our bodies, sexuality, motherhood, strength, and wellness. I hope you'll share your ideas and comments on those posts.

Lest ye be judged

I like to say that I don't judge other mothers, but I do all the time. I judge mothers for what they wear, what they feed their kids, what time their kids go to bed, where their kids go to school, how often they swear, if they give their kids soda....the list would take all of Mothers Day to type.

I say this not as purely confessional 'I'm such a bad lady - look how cool I am, how edgy' (although let's be honest, that's in there too).  Really its about calling bullshit on all of us who say we don't judge other mothers, because we do.  Now, we might not scream in their faces or kick them out of the book club, but we do make sly and subtle comments.  We do roll our eyes.  We do run home to our partners or call up a girlfriend and say, 'Can you believe she did that? I would never do that!'

Most of the time, we don't actually think the other woman is a bad mother; we just want to feel superior about our own choices; be that organic milk or a strict 7:30 bedtime. And that's the part we should own.

We are so scared to fuck up this most important job, that we live in fear of 'doing the wrong thing'*. So we are vigilant in trying to pick out other mothers 'doing the wrong thing' so we can feel better.  We feel better because we see someone else scream at their 4 year old or wear sweatpants to the grocery store.  We also feel better because we know we aren't alone in our errors, our clumsy love, our eternal fear. Our judgment is actually just a sigh of relief that in this moment we aren't the ones screwing up.  In that moment we are in control, totally making all the right choices.

Maybe you don't agree with me.  Maybe you never think about how other mothers mother.  Maybe you are more zen than I can ever dream of being. If so, don't judge me for my small, petty ways. These moments of superiority are fleeting and often have a bite of 'you are so small and hypocritical' at the end.

I guess we can find some comfort in the fact that we are never so cruel and unforgiving as we are with ourselves. You know, if being self-hating, unforgiving, and a horrible person is comforting. If so, I feel sorry for your kids. But I'm not judging...


* Let's not let the real bad guys off the hook here - the motherhood fear-mongers.  Those in society and in the media who live to make us scared, to tell us the millions of ways our kids can be harmed.  They like to point out all the ways we can make big, never-to-be-corrected mistakes.  They like to point out that if we aren't forever vigilant our kids could be obese or unpopular or kidnapped or living in our basements for the rest of their lives. These meanies are actually just trying to distract us from focusing our energies on the big problems and holding the right people accountable for how unfriendly this country is for families and mothers.  But I'm not going to get on that soapbox today. It's Mothers Day after all and I'm in need of a rest.

For all the mothers who mothered me (especially my own)

I first want to apologize for the rambling nature of this post.  This is more therapy than a well-crafted piece of nonfiction.  Shit, I have no idea what I want to say.  I just know I need to get out what's inside and I'm home alone with no grown ups to talk to and sometimes the internets full of strangers is a better audience than your best friend.  If you have no idea what I'm talking about; well, don't worry about it.  But I bet a few of you do.

I have been thinking about the women in my life who have been mothers to me.  I have been so lucky to have had several women, related to me and not, take me under their care as if I was their own.  One of those women died earlier this year at the age of 84.  Fucking cancer.  Another of those wonderful spirits is fighting cancer as I type and cancer is winning.  That asshole cancer is trying to take my friend's mother. But we still need her here. She needs to play with her grandchildren.  She needs to sit in the sun.  She needs to hug her daughters.  She doesn't need to suffer.  She doesn't need to leave her husband all alone in that house.

Days like today are days when I affirm my belief in no god, because why would a god allow lovely, soulful, generous spirits to suffer so greatly.  I see no purpose to it, only cruelty. So maybe if there is a god, he's the vengeful god of the Old Testament.  But that god is an asshole, so I again opt out.

I am also thinking about these women in my life who were mothers of good friends who have shown me great love and kindness. I have been included in holiday meals, given surprise birthday parties (more than once and by more than one mother), given handmade quilts, taken to college interviews, driven all over creation, tolerated, celebrated, advised, and chastised.


When I was a child my neighbor, K., took care of me on a daily basis.  She fed me fried bologna sandwiches, bathed me, hugged me, and treated me just like her boys, sometimes better than her boys.  She was the person who told me about 'the birds and bees'.  Well, actually she confirmed the story I was told by the weird boy who ate worms and licked the bus floor (who was obviously not a reliable source).  And then one day I turned my back on K.  I became a teenager who didn't need a babysitter, who no longer played wiffle ball in her backyard. And you know, I never thanked her.  I haven't sent a Christmas card in well over a decade.  I haven't checked in when I had babies.  Nothing.  I lost touch with her boys and then we all grew up and then....well and then.

I also have these bonus mothers now, in my grown up life. They are older women, mothers themselves, who offer me counsel and encouragement.  They tell me I'm doing a great job, even when I know I'm just barely muddling through. They love my babies fiercely. These grown up relationships are so different than the relationships with my relatives and friends' mothers.  Now I am equal.  Now I am appreciative.  Now I know enough to treasure their love.

Some people aren't lucky enough to have even one real mother in their life. I have had more than a couple of shares.  Maybe the universe made up for all the fathering I didn't get. (Although I have had those bonus fathers too, someday I'm going to give them their due.) Maybe I'm just a lucky person with an amazing mom AND all this extra mothering. Maybe everyone gets these bonus moms.  Or maybe I'm one of the few who notice. I don't know.

I'm sad. I am realizing that someday I am going to have to let go of my own mother, maybe witness her suffering. (I completely cannot go there right now or I will become undone.)  I am feeling helpless that I can't help my friend; kill the cancer so my friend can keep her mother.

I want to keep all the mothers in the world.  We need them.  We have none to spare. Cancer stop taking our mothers.  You motherfucker.

Mommy Salon

No, not the kind of salon with hair dryers and nail polish, but the kind with intellectual and creative people discussing topics of interest and sharing knowledge. I just returned home after spending the morning with several interesting women; we were discussing motherhood, work and being a SAHM. I was the alleged discussion leader, but the conversation flowed so naturally, that my little questions weren't needed.

Like any good group discussion there was a kind of magic that brought me out of my own head for a while. I wasn't sitting there thinking about what I was going to say next or how my hair looked; I was honestly engaged and learning from the experiences of the other women. We learned about our differences in situations, needs, desires, work history, etc. But some universals were also laid bare.

We all love our families and are happy to be home with our children, rather than out in a "job" all day. We all view our time caring for our children as real work, but feel that society doesn't view it that way. We all have supportive partners who want us to be home and show some appreciation for our work (this may be unusual for the world at large). We all feel the guilt and conflict about wanting time away from home and offspring. We all have challenges negotiating personal time with our partners. We all see our time at home with our kids as a small block of a long life, so sacrifices of personal ambitions and creative projects are bearable.

I observed that a couple of the mothers didn't desire or want a career, but saw employment as a way to earn income. A few others (like me) are willing to make sacrifices of personal ambitions and career goals to the health and well being of our families. But we definitely want to pursue some career, whether artistic, commercial, or public-sector in the future.

One thing we danced right around or actually probably ignored: financial vulnerability. I brought up the subject, but no one wanted to engage in a discussion about it. We did talk about divorce and child custody, etc., but only in general ways. Just like all the books have said, we SAHMs don't want to talk or think about what our lack of income means to our futures. Poverty is an ugly and scary prospect, who wants to talk about it? I hadn't realized we skipped the topic until just now, or else I might have pushed it a little.

So why am I posting this here? Because I think all mothers should have similar conversations with other mothers, and not just about motherhood, but about marriage, education, politics, relationships, feminism, etc. We so often focus on our kids and forget that we are more than just a mother to our kids. We are thinking and feeling creative and spiritual beings with needs for connection and community, especially connection to other women.

So I'm going to go and check my calendar so I can schedule the next Mommy Salon. I hope this becomes a national trend, maybe if we get Gwenyth and Angelina to join one.

How do you connect to other women?

I've been duped! and so have you....

The more I read the more I realize that in many ways I have been duped. I have been duped into believing that I can't really "have it all". I have been duped to believe that somebody, whether my partner or husband, my employer, my family, my government, is going to take care of me or at least always look out for my best interests. I have been duped to think that I am really the only person who can care for my child. I have been duped into making choices and sacrifices, which once I look at possible consequences, I'm not really that comfortable with.

I have been really thinking about where I would be if my partner left me, died, was in a coma, disabled, etc. How would I provide for my family? How would I make the mortgage? Where would I go for work? And because of these questions, I've been seriously considering going back to school to get my masters. But first I need to go back to work. I'm going to start part time.

I am in a unique situation. I contacted my former employer to see if I could do some part time work. I received an enthusiastic response, and was offered my pick of projects/tasks. So, I'm going back to work in a few months. I'm excited, even though it means finding child care for the boy, juggling responsibilities, and less time with my best buddies.

I have no idea what I'm doing, but like motherhood, I know I will figure it along the way. I'm just not comfortable being financially dependent. I'm not comfortable not having more time to myself, even though it means time at work. I'm not comfortable without some intellectual challenges. And you know, I miss grown ups. Grown ups who don't just relate to me as the mother of my child. Grown ups that respect me for my ideas, my opinions, and my integrity.

Sure being a mother is joyful and challenging, but for me, now and for my long term future, it isn't enough.

Renewal, a Musical

Backyard Renewal
Originally uploaded by ndjohns

I have spent the last few days marveling over the dawning spring and wandering down the dirt paths of my misspent youth. Somehow these activities seem congruous to me. The fertile soil of my youth and adolescence feeding my current creative re-birth and my own nurturing of my son. The circle of life, or something.

The journal reading started with a search for a particular story that I wrote in college. In my memory the story rocked, but in reality, at least my current view; it really sucks in a naive and amateurish way. Now some of the other projects I uncovered were worth a look and even some revisions. But they reek of everything I no longer am, so it was painful and amusing, resulting in a rather melancholy mood.

Yesterday afternoon I was hit with the deep pain and obsessive tendencies hidden in plain view among the pages of my journals. I have had some serious cycles of depression, particularly in the late teens and early 20's. I probably should have been under some kind of professional psychological care, but no one ever mentioned it to me. I was good at hiding it, at least from the people who might have the authority or interest in helping me. But I think that if anyone had really dared to look they would have seen me struggling, I showed some obvious warning signs. But I guess in a testimony to my own character, I survived.

Most of the really painful situations and events of my life (at least since I was 10) are not chronicled in my journals. Just the heartbreak from boys who didn't like me or didn't love me, and sometimes a rant or two about the world in general. But I didn't write about my father's alcoholism or the abusive boyfriend. I censored myself or protected myself. I can't quite figure that one out. As a result of all this reading , brooding, remembering, laughing, missing and even some crying; I have decided to be absolutely honest in everything I write in my current and future journals. I really don't have anything to hide from myself. And if anyone else reads them, well that's what they get for snooping.

The other thing I learned about myself: I could be kind of promiscuous at times.