How it must feel to swim in a bed of love
a lover's arms around you
a raft to hold onto 
and around your arms
a small one, warm and pink
soft

and at first it must taste so wonderful and comforting
you could cry, your face could just burst
at the thought of the love surrounding you
but as collective body heat rises and limbs fall asleep
contorted still in selfless resolve to continue 
support for the others on your bed-boat
a discomfort must creep in
and I would imagine, a new dream forms
one of space and time and full agency
over your limbs

I swim nightly in a sea devoid of humans
two furry bedfellows give me no more warmth 
than I can handle
and while I love this
I often dream and pursue the addition of a partner
and a child or two

I know if I ever attain these feats of daring, brave vulnerability
there will likely be many moments of longing for 
what I now have

and this is the forever dilemma of life

but still, it is good to want things
even if you never achieve them
a dream is the purpose putting speed in your step
and without stepping ever forwards toward some goal
you stand still and wilt curdled in potential untested
and growth perverted like an ingrown hair

I think
one of the most important things
to remember 
in life
is the belief that you can do anything
and the will to constantly take up arms
against that belief in heartfelt attempts
with the knowledge that sometimes 
you will fail
but
sometimes 
sometimes
you will prevail
and above all and
throughout it all
the losses and the gains
never lose your sense of fun
in the exploration of your attempts

​i belong to myself first
i am responsible to myself first
i am beholden to myself first

i may love others
but i cannot control them
i can control myself

i may want to help others
who do not wish to help themselves
and that i cannot solve
but i can shift the focus to myself
i can help myself

i may be brought to unwanted feelings by others
and want those others to correct their actions
to stop my pain--and they may not
but i, still, am responsible for processing my way
through that pain
i am responsible for my feelings

others may wish me to be different in some ways
may want me to act differently, believe differently,
live my life differently--but my responsibility in life
is first to honor my own compass, to fine-tune my
ear to my heart, and step inline with what seems
true and right and best to me

i cannot please everyone
i cannot fix anyone
i can only be myself
i can show up
i can be present and available and honest and heartfelt
and set boundaries
and i can be myself
and work to do so with honor and courage and to detach myself
from the shame, expectations, and miscellaneous opinions of others

and respect that others must be themselves, too

I avoid confrontation at nearly all costs
One tactic I, personally, like to use is to
1.) Take 1 person who has made me feel bad feelings
2.) Mix it in a bowl with their point of view and my own insecurities 
until what they did to make me feel bad is actually my fault
3.) Bake at 450 degrees for 20 minutes
4.) Swallow full responsibility for their actions and my feelings 
5.) Sprinkle on a reminder of all their good qualities
6.) Move on and try to never think of it again 

When I find that I must say something to someone
I prefer to do so in writing so that I can write, breathe, erase
and try another phrasing out of their earshot so as not to escalate 
either of our emotions, if possible, and work in numerous reminders
of validation betwixt words of standing up for my own perspective

I then feel nauseous and sick with anxiety from the moment I hit "send"
until they respond

In some small percentage of conversations, I have been able to say something 
                          in                      the                     moment
I have confronted my fear of confrontation HEAD ON
My feelings feebly struggling to stand on their feet in direct opposition to another's
feelings whom I also care about but who has hurt me
And I feel sick and shaky the whole time--have to fight the urge to just lay on my back
like a dog and offer my belly and
apologize for having an opposing point of view or for 
having any feelings at all

I think my ability to empathize with others and consider viewpoints other than my own
is a strength--but I also recognize that I can take it too far and abandon myself for the other team
or shut down all together, recoil into my shell and say, "People are far too hard to interact with!
No more people! Only dogs!"

Often I find myself asking: Well, what's the worst that can happen?
That usually seems like a logical question to ask fear, but in this case
the worst that can happen is that the person never speaks to you again,
disowns you, and is your father. Ope, there it is. 

Root f e a r

Loss o n e

The start of my shrinking indifference to self
was actually the last moment I most proudly stood up
for myself

It's been over a decade since then and in the echo of his absence
has been space that's been occupied by various other people 
with opposing views and when the friction of new conflict rubs
at a high enough frequency, the echo chamber howls in pain
as I clutch at my feelings telling them to quiet down so
we don't loose another one

acting came to me in a dream last night
visited like a long lost friend
who died years ago but 
whom you always dream about
on their birthday each year

it asked if I missed it
and seduced me into performing a monologue
it held my hand and gave me a tour of 
auditions past, present, and future

I scrolled instagram and saw a post of 
actor's headshots and
c r i n g e d

the same feeling of nauseousness
that accompanied my loss of religion
years ago

having seen too much
i can't go back
my taste buds fell off and
the new ones that replaced them
can't stomach the taste of the business

i'm in a moment of heightened feelings
due to personal and professional circumstances
at present
i cried last night and a bit this morning
the thought of doing an Alma monologue
sounds good, freeing

the smell of the wood boards of a theatre
sounds comforting

the slipping into another skin,
a dream

the coffee at rehearsal and dog-eared pages
of a new script being worn in
sounds like home

I think i'll find my way back again
but it will be different
and i'm okay with that

my old lover and i 
have aged

On Valentines Day I flew out to Richmond, VA to visit my brother, his wife, and their kids. The following day their triplets were turning 5 years old. I was anxious about the trip--the travel and the visit itself, but it turned out to be a trip I'll remember fondly forever. The triplet's screaming/crying to snuggling/laughing ratio hit that sweet balance in line with my tolerance level. In two days time I had won over most of the kids trust and affection. They discovered I was game for picking them up, spinning them around, hanging them upside down and that I often honored their requests for me to do things "again! again!" if only they added "please" and let me rest every now and then to catch my breath. They learned that I can do funny accents and slip into different characters (my acting degree really flexing its muscles in the most fulfilling way) and Adeline and Amelia nearly fell down in laughter as I adopted a southern twang and baffled at the realization that my sweet nieces had been turned into pigs when they started letting snorts bleed into their laughs.

I taught Adeline and then Finley how to use my "real" camera and they caught on so quickly and got addicted to it. Charlie loved pouncing with an unsuspected attack, a big smile and tiny fists, lunging himself into my lap--it seemed to always be that with him or a sudden impulse to go around to everyone in the room and bestow on them the sweetest hug and kiss. He was thoroughly devoted to the slack line my brother installed for their birthday--back and forth, back and forth. Finley liked to pretend to shoot me with an empty Nerf gun a classmate had given them--Finley would pretend to shoot me after I protested and then I would have to turn into a thoroughly disgusting monster, curling my fingers and tilting my head, a snarl crossing my face, and attack with tickles while he screamed in delight and attempted to hide in the corners of the couch.
​
Then, there was the day Adeline and I spent taking pictures together--me taking pictures of her, and her taking pictures of everything--us wandering the yard on the hunt for the prettiest or most interesting shots. She showed me her favorite spots, and hung upside down on the ninja course and smiled her toothless smile ("I still have 26 teeth!!") Perhaps my favorite memory, though, one night Amelia and I were in a dimmed room slowly dancing, me rocking her back and forth like she loved and kept begging me to do. Her eyes getting heavy with sleep while her lips curled in happy content. I went longer than my body wanted to...step, step, rock. Step, step, rock--knowing the moment was fleeting and once I stopped, I would never get it back.

One day it was snowing big, huge, chunky flakes. Adeline looked out the window and declared defiantly, "Everyone keeps saying that it's snowing. It's NOT snowing!" Ryan, Phoebe and I all looked at each other and tried to convince her that it WAS in fact snowing and we should know. She looked back at us with the exhausted, annoyed expression of a scholar talking to a couple of ignoramuses and stated slowly, "It's not snowing. It's a WINTERY MIX!"

On a nicer day, Adeline was hanging out on the ninja course and looked at me, a serious and slightly concerned expression on her face, "Aunt Andie...I've always wanted to know...which came first: the chicken or the egg?" I chuckled, "Well, that's a question that's been debated for decades. What do you think?" She said, "I think the chicken." And I asked, "Where did the chicken come from?" And she said, "An egg." And I asked, "Where did the egg come from?" She said, "A chicken."

"How many more sleepovers?" They each asked at different times. And when it was down to "just one more and then I'm gone early in the morning, before you wake up"--two of the four (the girls) begged me to stay, or to come back soon ("In May with Gabby!") And I wished that I could--really.

One night I was asking the kids over supper if they could do this or that with their face...curl their tongue, wiggle their ears, put one eyebrow up, wink. None of them managed very well. But then, Amelia threw me a wink and added some eyebrow movement on top of it creating perhaps the best face in the history of facial expressions. She made me laugh so hard and then, knowing she could get that response out of me any time she did it, she continued making the face throughout the visit. My god. My heart. Thank goodness I was able to record it on my phone so I can re-watch it forever (or for however long those files remain playable).

I took about 400 photos on the trip. Adeline and Finley took a hundred or so as well. When I got home I made and ordered a book of some of the photos Adeline took. I'm going to send it to her with my first "real" camera (two camera's ago) for her to keep practicing. She's very good and she seems to enjoy it. So, I'm happy I can fan and encourage that new flame.

I wish I lived closer. I would love nothing more than to scoop up one or two of them each week, each day and take them under my wing. I thought throughout my visit...I could do this. I could have five year olds. I could have a seven year old. The desire for children so strong in me, suddenly awakened by these bubs, that days after I returned home my long-lost aunt flo reappeared after a several months long hiatus (normal for my inconsistent, unreliable, and unpredictable body). Yes, I crave children now. And I worry too that no child will ever compare to my nieces and nephews!

I'm back home now--back inside the busy bubble of life, the overwhelming nature of looming bills and my insufficient budget that never seems to swell large enough to buy a house or prep for life with a child. But I am motivated now, more minutely than ever--and I am hopeful. And I want to be a parent. I would like to parent with a partner--of which I am also still and perpetually lacking. But whether that right partner comes along to pair off and parent with--I will work on what I can--on financial stability, on a home, on empty rooms filled with love and hope for a child to enter them and stay, get nourished, and grow, and so many memories of love, laughter, curiosities, and true unconditional love.

On that last point--do all parents think they are prepared to offer their children unconditional love and then only as their child grows do they realize they do indeed have conditions? Why do so many parents fail to reach it--inflicting condition upon condition onto their (wholly independently their own entity) child before they are deemed worthy of their love or acceptance in being who they ultimately are or may become?

I feel ready to provide unconditional love, ready to own the ways I'm sure I'll fall short again and again in my practice of it, ready to encourage the unique flames within whatever children I am able to guardian through life.

In the meantime, I'll return to my post as a CASA, start my next case and do what I can to help that child find a loving and stable home.

And in between my jobs, the advocacy and daily worries and distractions...I'll dream about the future, I'll remember this visit, and I'll smile.

soft and greasy
trying not to be too needy
try to stay calm
say truths
not escalate emotional fears
into reality

i am changing
i hardly recognize myself
i distract myself because
the growing pains make me
dizzy with existential grief

who i am and what i want
and how i express myself
and how and where i want to be seen
and what is important to me
it's evolving

i can't operate on automatic anymore
all previously presumed YES's
must be re-evaluated
by the new regime
it's still me, yes / but different

this could be a grand evolution
a great re-invention
shrink not in fear, dear self
grow with abandonment from your past selves
look ahead, squint and scream
call for your future and 
run to it, arms open

bigger in some ways
smaller in others
and most of all
warm in heart
full in purpose
loud in laughter
determined, tenacious and forgiving
in the path

build it, dear
trust the new you
unfolding
let go of the old you
and all her withholdings

i was sick
it started in my heart
and my head and spirit
and then became physically manifested
and spread throughout my body
with high temps and heavy coughs
and a pain so severe i could not be 
stirred for 10 whole days

i sat on the side of my bed and
passed my days staring at the doors
of my closet; in the background
a tv tale beat on i'd heard a million
times before and could use as white noise

in this respite i could focus only 
on my physical well being
and my two great loves came and visited me
brought flowers for my heart and spirit
brought medicine for my body
touched my body and spoke words
into the caverns of my ears
let it be known they cared for me
and i let it nourish me

and i rested
and i had to be patient
and i waited
and i recovered

this sickness and pain was not the end of me
and life has gone on
as ever--until it doesn't
and i am grateful
for the next wave
to be on it

​

how difficult, yes

to be tender, bare

pry open the heart

just to get torched over

and then dare

to love again

ever hopeful as timid

ever brave as embittered

​worth it, each time

What is love if not all encompassing?
Is love true--is it real--if it does not
take up all of the space in your brain?
Am I loving in a healthier way?
Is that a real thing?
To love and still retain yourself wholly?
I didn't consider it to be possible--
and yet--
but still--it's early now, with her.
Time may sway away my conscious control
as I fall deeper.
Or, have I built up enough fail-safes and built them
strongly enough now that I cannot fall
in love the way I used to,
so whole-heartedly and absent-mindedly.
Also, perhaps it is also that this love,
like my last,
did not start with unrequited longing
(well, okay, it did, but so briefly and then
with the realization it was not unrequited at all
but rather quite returned)
and so the fantasy became reality without
much effort.
I have doubts, I have fears.
The only relationships (so, so few) that I have had
have come with those.
Truth be told, even the unrequited ones had them
but because they were in fantasy, it was easier to not focus on them
and so, it seems, unlike movies (go figure)
relationships are such work and not at all
purely good feelings and swelling music
and spinning kisses.
Well, we carrying on,
one foot in front of the next,
see what each day brings.
Better when you can do this all without 
losing your sense of whole self.
Let's see how this one fares,
this relationship.
How long will this bloom?
How tender of care and
​how much presence of self
can I offer it?
What sweet buds may I taste in it?