Addiction in Moderation

I'm not quite certain when addiction becomes a component of your make up, but something tells me it begins very early in life. A child has a basic need to be held, listened to-- one is desperate for attention, the child get's it and feels that amazing sensation of fulfillment and satisfaction...comfort. Or perhaps it's the instant gratification we get from putting a puzzle together, building a tower, or the salivating that takes place at the thought of M&M's or a Happy Meal. How does simple satisfaction become a ravenous want for things? For things that can even kill you? And, is that ravenous want when applied to passion a negative?

Isn't that person with extreme passion looked at as a person with ambition and drive? I had a ravenous want to be on Broadway. I had equal and ravenous want for toxicity. I had the bare, naked, human want to be loved and accepted. I had the simple want to feel good and be happy. Why are these needs that all people have wrong? See where this all leads to confusion within a child's mind? Even in an adult mind?

There has to be something right within the world of need or else we would not fight for the things we believe in and work towards the things we want. Why is it that everything that is looked at as an addiction something that is "bad for you"? Sex, drugs, drinking, shopping, hell--don't they deem texting an addiction now? There's a fine line there. I think the very same passion that runs through my veins that is satisfied by being on stage, singing and dancing, is the very same passion that felt satisfied poisoning my veins or from self-mutilation. Joy, fun, excitement, and even sometimes, elation. Isn't there even a scientific explanation, that we are doing whatever we can to release serotonin and endorphins? We've got to gush our system with all these natural chemicals to give us a high and it's wrong to force ourselves to have these unnatural highs, that is, of course, unless they are prescribed, right? Right?

No, I think it's understanding the side effects of our wants and the possible destruction working too hard and needing too much can get us. We are so desperate in a world of sad and angry people to feel good, to succeed at getting what we want. And if sex makes us feel good--we have a baby boom or we have a plethora of STDs floating about. If being a singer makes us a feel good we have an influx of talent based reality TV shows, or entire generations of kids losing their identity to the fame monster. If eating makes us feel good we have genius chefs creating edible art or we become a fast food nation full of obese poster children. If tobacco feels good we have 400 thousand people die in a year from tobacco related illnesses. If music feels good we have Beethoven. Art-- Van Gogh and Basquiat. There are pros and cons to the extent that we want. EVERYTHING IN MODERATION. To know the boundaries, the limits, what's safe, what's acceptable within you. To eat to live, not live to eat. To appreciate, not devour. To partake, but not take advantage. Sample, don't steal. Experience, don't expel. In my humble opinion, this is how we experience heaven on earth again, and again, and again.

Thanks Body

For almost 32 years now you have put up with some terrible abuse. From almost 3 decades of dancing to years of unhealthy eating habits and unnatural substances...I thank you. Today I give praise to this body who has continued to love me and stick through everything with me despite the horrible things I say about it out loud and in secret. Thank you so very much body for working damn near perfect, for simply getting one foot in front of the other day in and day out.

Thank you feet for withstanding my love for being barefoot and my equal love for 4 inch stiletto shoes. When the time comes for a podiatrist, don't be too proud to tell me and hopefully I won't be too proud to call one for you.

Thank you ankles for withstanding toe shoes and never breaking despite my need to dance and run and fall down A LOT.

Thank you knees, for you have put up with so much pressure and force. Thank you for fighting through the years of pain and swelling and me almost refusing to give you anything to help you work better. I hope the bits of physical therapy and glucosamine condroitin are enough to keep you going for a long time.

Thank you hips for letting me do as much as I have. I'm sorry I curse at you for not being more flexible. I will love you for the flexibility you give. Let's continue to stretch and see where we can go as a team.

Thank you internal organs for the strength to push out the toxins I can't help but put in. Thank you for doing your job. I hope the vitamins & the changes I have made in the past 7 years have made you feel better about working for me. Everyday I am working towards a two way relationship.

Thank you body for allowing me to grow and give birth to a healthy child and recover well. I have forgiven the displacement of my hips & pelvis. He is worth all of it.

Thank you veins for properly transporting blood to every part of my body. Forgive me for the way I talk about your spider variety, I know they hurt for you too.

Thank you hands, fingers, & nails for putting up with so much abuse. Verbally & physically. I am proud of the strength you display and I will do my best to be stronger for you. Nails, no more acrylic...ever. Fingers, I know you need me not wear jewelry and if I do, I will do better about putting on ointment to sooth your anger. Hands, I embrace your power.

Thank you wrists. I am sorry for the scars, but am proud of the healing you have done...in more way than one.

Thank you shoulders and back for continuing to stand tall despite the pain and tension. I am so happy you can tell my husband your needs so clearly. You hold a very important job by displaying a very important mural so your brave communication benefits us both. Eternally grateful.

Thank you teeth for hanging in there. You keep doing well despite the things I have put in my mouth from metal & chemical to things that stain & contain way too much sugar. Keep on doing your thing and I promise I will be able to give you the works someday.

Thank you eyes for putting up with years of me sleeping in my contacts and eye makeup. You taught me my lesson and never again. New glasses get here next week and you get even more time off.

Thanks be to my hair. You have shone bright, literally, with almost every color man could imagine. You have experienced almost every styling tool with great courage. I'm sorry for the times I got angry at you for losing thickness. I understand, I've changed too. We're still great partners. Thank you for your consistent grace and pride. Thank you for trusting me.

Thank you skin. I know I say terrible things about you. I have put you through so much trying to alter you, tanning, creams, make up. I only want to enhance you. I hope the water intake is good along with the vitamins and perfume-free lotion. You are so very strong. We will see a dermatologist soon.

Body, you are the epitome of unconditional love. I realize that you have never let me down. You keep trying, you keep going. I realize we can get through anything together. Today and everyday from here on out I will honor you, love you, and give you the praise you deserve. I cannot promise that there will not be days when you make me angry or I feel you're not doing your part in some way. Please, have patience with me. My intention is not to take you for granted. I know you're doing your best. We're in this together, to the end.

Fallen Heroes

For the majority of my life I had elders, spirit guides, wise people, teachers that I depended on to help maneuver through my life. More so than people my own age, I was always drawn to those older than me to be life advisers. Each of these individuals became heroes. Symbols of perfection. Everything I could only hope to be someday. Then, one day, one of my heroes fell from the sky and became very human to me. What a horrible thing to witness. Not only did they fall, but they got up and walked away...from me. At first it was such a foreign experience, but then one by one more heroes began to fall. I saw false sages. Clumsy instead of clever. As self-consumed as every other human. But how could I possibly learn anything from someone who was no further along than I??

This ignited a severe desperation in me to find a new guide. He fell. Then I found another. She fell. Until it was told to me by one very grounded human, perhaps the reason there is no one left on the pedestal is because I am to be my own hero, my own guide, my own teacher. Perhaps the time has come to find my own answers and to master myself. I come to the table of wisdom with much to share. I have stepped into big shoes and they fit. Now may I have my cape?

Goin through...the change.

I realize that I have no idea what I'm in for, but already the effects of age can be depressing. I started going gray at 18, I have to take glucosamine condroitin for my joints or I'm stiff and in pain after working out or dancing, I can't eat an Italian meal without having to take a Zantac after, wrinkles actually remain on my face after I stop grimacing from the pain of my joints. Sheesh. Really sucks. The cellulite, the stretch marks, the spider veins, the bunions. It amazing the quest we are on to remain young. I feel this need in order to be competitive, to be marketable in the performing world, but I also want to look attractive to my husband and shoot, me!

What a racket this whole fountain of youth is. Yesterday, I found out how much it costs to have a laser peel done on your face. Apparently, one does this to get rid of wrinkles, scarring, etc. To get the desired results, you have to look like a burn victim for few days, it hurts, and you pay an arm and a leg for it! Wow. My brother was a big fan of botox and from what he said, that also hurts AND is expensive. Frightening to think I may fall into the female-in-search-of-youth consumerism some day. Wait, I already have. I'm 31 and already going through...a change. I can't imagine being 51 and going through...the change. I'm gonna be a mess!

I've got a secret...

What was I taught?...Enter the scene with a secret. It makes you an interesting character.

How fun is to play I know something you don't know every single waking moment? I think this is definitely part of my existence. I love wearing that mask. So many people have no idea what lays inside me. They see a very organized, hard working, friendly individual, but...there's more. So much more. Many people in my wife/mom life have no idea I am a talented performer. Many people from my performing days have no idea I am fantastic wife and mother. I guess there is also secrecy with my depression, but is that really secret? Perhaps the depth to which it travels, but that's a boring secret. I digress...

I think it all comes with knowing my worth and therein lies the secret. There are so many fun things for me to know and others to MAYBE find out...someday. And, what's really fun is not being afraid to reveal. It is truly enjoyable to be able to control something. Yes, we control much of our lives, but secrecy is something I can really color with.

My Apostrophe

As one grows older you tend to lose things. Hair, smooth skin, firmness. Some lose them earlier than others. I began to lose the darkness in my hair at 18. Early on, I somehow also managed to lose some vowels.

Though you lose some things, you also gain others. Wisdom, experience, friends, family, a home, gray hair and in my particular instance...I also gained an apostrophe. Well...let's back up.

I gained an apostrophe by no fault of my own. You could say it was bestowed on me as there are no accidents, right? The loss of vowels was my choice in early high school out of sheer boredom with myself. If I ever had a nickname, this easy target I painted for myself would have ceased to exist. I guess it was way too appealing to be the center of jokes and ridicule (thanks bro). The yearbook staff gets credit for the apostrophe. Naturally a name without vowels needed some punctuation and I thought they were absolutely right. We were on to something.

My husband, just an infatuation at the time, always refused to alter the spelling. I think it was mostly because it was one more way to defy me, but I always thought it endearing. Once we were certain we would be together for the rest of our lives, I decided to stick with my legal alias. Little did I know the subtle, yet adverse affect it would have on my persona.

There is something in that apostrophe. It's that place where I am at play. It is that place where I create my reality and disallow reality to maneuver me. I've been safe in my vowels and quite frankly I needed the keys to the apostrophe taken from me. Stronger now than ever, my apostrophe now represents something very much like the Dash poem. So, watch what I'm gonna do with my apostrophe.

I die to be born again...

It's amazing to think only a few short years ago I was in the fast lane to death. I lie in my bed in Brooklyn, drowning in tears and brownie bites, ready. Begging to die.

Six years later and I am again ready. This time, demanding to live.

What changed? I rekindled belief in eternal love, detoxed my vessel, and created life. Now, you would think this would be the beginning of a dream come true. Yet somewhere, decay was still happening inside me. I was constantly looking over my shoulder for that something that made me, me. Chasing my youth you say? Chasing a ghost of what was? It's more than that. I have been looking for my apostrophe. (For others, it may be their dash.) That perfect place where I am at play creating my life without fear.

It has been a sideways perfect since that day in Brooklyn. Love saved my life. My life created another. My self went into hibernation and a wife and mother emerged. A perfectly discontented one. I do love this wife and mother, but there has always been something in the depths of my being pulling my heart back toward the bohemian roots that found a home in my apostrophe. For 6 years now I have been trying to convince myself I should let go of the artist in me. I have tried at a few junctures to jump back in by taking dance class and teaching a little as well as doing an audition, but because these few attempts did not work out in the way I wanted I felt they were signs that I should let go. I thought, I must not be meant for that life or else I would be doing it. Fear took hold and spun me into a terrible depression. I was officially lost.

After the passing of my brother last September, my brother’s spirit was in my ear saying, “You have more time, don’t take it for granted.” I believe I was immediately blessed with the lesson my brother’s death was meant to teach me. Despite the fact my brother may not have achieved what some would call success, he lived a fuller life in 35 years than many do in a hundred. I know my brother did not live with regret. My brother was always urging me to step out and ignore the boundaries life sets for us. Especially since having my son I have “colored inside the lines” and lost my identity in my motherhood. I feel that Bryan has been telling me to stop ignoring what is innately in me to do.

I have battled with my self and beaten her down for some time. I have felt so much shame and embarrassment, that I have been a disappointment. I was supposed to be some great thing. My own flesh and blood, my son, does not know anything of the identity I once possessed and it’s tears me apart. All this has escorted in a fantastic realization...that girl that I was is gone forever, but the thing that makes me special is not.

At the suggestion of a friend, a nudge of my brother’s spirit, and the amazing love and dedication from my husband and family, I have decided to embark upon the journey back to my apostrophe. I am ready and open to approach any all avenues to get there. I refuse to get to the end of my life and say, “I wish…” Forget wishing, I’m doing it. Now.