on better

Most of the best people I’ve ever known were people I met before I was 18.  During a time when I was still on my path toward “escaping” poverty (which you never really escape, BTW).

There was the little girl–the most popular, brightest girl at our elementary school–who became my best friend because I was always sad and alone.  There was my Mama.  There was Sister Pat and Abraham–people who fed us when we were literally starving.  There was Clara and Lydia–who stepped in when my Mama became disabled and couldn’t take care of things like groceries.  There was the ultra cool guy who advocated for my ideas in yearbook, when everyone was talking over me–who gave me rides home in his Mustang and became my very good friend in college–who believed I was beautiful when I never did.  There was the teacher who taught me the beauty of poetry and the man who sponsored me in every competition and let me write when I was supposed to be assisting him.  There was the guy who gave me my first job–who would bring me bagels while I did data entry.  There was my boss at Career Services who saw me and nurtured my talents and paid for me to dream.  There was the lady who ran the Writing Center who taught me to never give up on myself.

So many more, too–many of which I’ve lost.  Some I found again.

All of us have struggled to find our way.  To embrace our power.  Some have literally changed the world.  Some just changed mine.

As Americans, we are taught one thing–and I think this is even more true for those of us who have had nothing.  We are taught to strive for better and more and tomorrow.  I certainly have been that person.  To never sit still.  To never exhale.  To keep grinding when you have nothing left.  We are taught to evolve and to not look back.

Except I have a nostalgic heart.  I always look back.

I look for the ones who’ve left.  I look for the person I was.

And I miss it.  That girl. Those people.  That life.  That time.

I will never stop missing anything.

I will always look for those that made an impression.  Always.

I will listen to Belinda Carlisle and sing all the words to Heaven on Earth.  I will eat palletas like it’s 103, and I’m sitting at Garfield Park on a Sunday.  I will smile that same lopsided smile I had when I was five when I’m feeling shy, and he’s looking at me.

I used to apologize for that.  Sometimes, I still do.

But mostly, I sink into it now.

My whole life, I was taught to discard things.  To shed people and places and move forward.  To better myself.  To not get stuck in the muck–in the mess of my story and where I’ve been.  As I started healing my life, I discovered abuses and dysfunction and toxicity that I had allowed for years because I was sick when I encountered them and accepted them as mine.  It made me want to run ever faster away from where I came from.  Made me long for clean slates and new beginnings.  Helped me choose new paths and attract new people with stories like mine.

And I convinced myself that everything I was doing–everything my path attracted–the bright and shiny new of something else was better than what was.  Except none of it stuck.  And on the bad days, the ones who said–“Hey, I got you.”–those folks?  Were the ones who shared their limes with me when I was 10.

Better.  Different.  New.  All adjectives for identities we try on when we’re running from ourselves.

For years, I ran as fast as I could from the broken girl who was terrified of being found.  I thought running would make me harder to abandon, I guess.  Only maybe it encouraged it by making it hard to connect with anything.

For years, I ran away from the ugliest parts of myself–the parts I knew were worthy of the abandonment I was terrified of–the parts that came from being abandoned.

For years, I missed the girl I was–the girl who didn’t feel.  The girl who did things and was things I can never be again.

The girl who was left so many times that it didn’t matter.

Only, of course it did.

The very best person I met while I was surviving was myself.  And I’m learning that the best way to support who I am now is to love her more.  And like the people I knew when I was 11, sometimes, it’s enough to just share your soup.  Sometimes, it’s okay to run back in time to appreciate that who you were back then was pretty damn great–even if it didn’t hurt.



I’ve been going through a hard time, lately.  Feeling like I have nothing left to give.  Feeling betrayed and confused and unsupported.  It’s a common feeling for me, really.

For most of my life, I’ve felt some combination of feeling utterly unseen, unsupported, unvalued, and abandoned.  At the same time, though, I felt like who I was mattered too much.  Like I was responsible for absolutely everything that went wrong.  I have a hard time cutting myself slack, and I have a hard time not taking on too much blame.  And I have made the story of my life about how I am so wrong and so deserving of being left behind.

But what if that story I told myself when I was a little girl wasn’t exactly true?

What if my existence on this Earth mattered as much as I wanted it to matter?  What if none of the shit that had ever happened to me had anything to do with who I was?  What then?

These are questions I’ve been asking myself lately, as I’ve flailed around and tried to get perspective–slipping often–rarely finding my footing.

Does it matter if I take today off?  Will the world end if I hit pause and took care of myself, for once?

The answer: probably not.  But I’ll let you know how much it hurts tomorrow.

The thing is–all of us matter, right?  We matter in immeasurable ways.  Small and huge ways.  But some things? They just don’t matter, and our involvement in it doesn’t matter…and our contribution (while appreciated, sometimes) probably doesn’t matter much.  The key is to figure out why we’re here and what matters to US.

As a kid, I grew up in a very black and white world.  One where life was pretty unfair and fucked up.  One where blame was overflowing, and someone always had to be punished.  Good and bad–life and death–that was my baseline.

In that world, it’s easy to feel disempowered.  To feel like the only thing you can control is yourself.  And in that way, I always avoided being a victim.  But as a kid, that part of my heart and brain remained very black and white.  And even though, I was never a victim and bristled at such things, I fell into the traps of that ideology quite often.

I was reminded of it, yesterday, during therapy.  I had done so well, and then, talking to my therapist–she voiced her concern…her worry about me…that I had regressed.  That the woman talking to her was the woman I was all those months ago when I first started.  The girl shouldering most of the blame, making excuses for other people, burnt out and stomped on and drowning.

Except who I’ve evolved into was still around when she asked me a simple question–“If it’s between saving the relationship and saving you, who do you choose?”

I didn’t hesitate, and we discussed what had been happening–my anger, my disconnect–the shortcomings and the trauma.  And she said, ” Maybe he’s given you all he can give.  Do you accept that?”

“I want to.  I don’t want to give up on him.”

“What would giving up on him be?”

“Giving up on hope. On myself.”

“You’ve shared your boundaries, with no ambiguity, and your boundaries are reasonable.  If he can’t honor them, can you accept that?  The ball’s in your court.”

“I know he has it in him.”  For some reason, I thought of my ex and who I was a few years ago–when he decided to give up on me.  I had compassion for him, then, realizing he must’ve gone through this same conversation in his head.

“But what if he doesn’t?  If he doesn’t have it in him–now–is that kind?”

I was bargaining.  Maybe if I gave it space, focused on me instead.

“If you accepted exactly what he’s giving you right now, how would that feel?”

“Like I gave up on myself.”


We did inner child work after catching up.  I decided I wanted to target the abandoned part of myself.  The one my inner guard dog protects.  I learned, this session, that my guard dog–while uncomfortable to experience–is my brain’s signal that something is wrong.  I need to pay attention to her–even if her tactics are aggressive and inappropriate.

We brought my functional self out and then anchored her to a higher power.  For me, the higher power is the Universe.  She asked me to visualize this Universe–and I saw myself–my functional self–except an angelic version of me–all white robes and flowing romance novel hair.  I actually took a photo of this idea once.  Interestingly enough.

We brought out the little girl–only the abandoned part of me was not a little girl in my eyes.  It was an oil slick.  This deep, black hole that never ended.  But, further exploration revealed a child–drowning–covered in muck–unable to see any light whatsoever.  A child lacking any features or identity–just enmeshed in the darkness she was stuck in.

She asked me how it made me feel.  And I cried at the devastation of knowing what this really was.

She instructed me to have my functional self and the Universe move toward the oil slick, and I imagined glittering light shining through the darkness–to the little girl–and the girl crawling out of the tunnel.  We pulled her out and hugged her–talked to her–took her to a room in my heart.  A room that was half outside and full of flowers and horses.  We bathed her and fed her soup.  And she got to play with all the children I’ve been before I left her to live my life, promising I’d return soon.

I’ve been angry–boiling angry–for days and days…maybe my whole life.  But a peace came over me.  The clenched heart I’ve been carrying around lately relaxed.


We talked again.  In the way we’ve been talking, which is no way at all.  The kind that is just an extension of the last argument–where you wonder where the heck your person went.  It ended badly.  I went and cooked dinner.  I came back to find him, finally, showing up.  I called him, and we talked some more, and it was like it used to be.

Turns out, we’ve both been flailing.  Because, again, we’re basically the same person.  And he promised to try, and so did I, and things are better now.

The thing is–I see him struggle so much with all the things I’ve struggled with.  Things I, honestly, still struggle with.  And I want to swoop in like Wonder Woman and save him from himself–knowing I can’t.  I told my therapist it was like being a lifeguard, tasked with saving everyone on a beach–seeing your favorite person in the world drowning–going to save them and realizing you’re tethered to your lookout.  That you can hold their head up, but ultimately, they have to swim out of the current towards you.  And you have to try not to drown with them.  It’s hard to love someone who is drowning.  And it’s hard to be the person drowning, who is just so tired of staying afloat.

The thing is–healing is a process–a long, meandering, often volatile process.  It ebbs and flows, just like the tide.  Sometimes, you find yourself in riptides.  Sometimes, you’re basking and riding waves.  Every day is a choice to keep going and to move closer or further away from the things/people you love and those who love you.  If you’re looking for reasons–and opportunities–to die, you will find them.  But you will also find all the reasons to stay.

And hopefully, the ones who love you will love you enough to accept all of this and love you even when you’re not sure about any of it.

Yesterday, I chose myself and my guy.  And tomorrow, that may change.  But for now, we’re here, and it’s not so bad.

oh, boy

I should know better than to make promises. Because, too often, despite my very best intentions, I’m not fucking super woman.  I aspire to be super woman, sure, but I’m mostly just silly Alma.  And most days, Alma is buried.

That’s a big reason for my hiatus from blogging–from writing–maybe from life these past several weeks.

That was especially true for 2017.  And December.  And January.  The last couple months have been utter insanity.  2017 was all about grinding.  There were pockets of joy and surprise that made it all worth it, but it was a traumatic year that redefined so much of who I am.  After a pretty awesome, quiet Christmas, my world kind of blew up.  So many things happened that it took me two hours to write an email updating my therapist on all of it so that our 2 hour call scheduled for tomorrow wasn’t just catching up with the landmines.

I kinda feel like I invited all of this in because, back in early December, I decided that–for 2018–I was going to gun for healing my self-worth issues.  And lo and behold, the Universe delivered many lessons for me about self-worth just as 2018 showed up.  Be careful what you wish for.  Be sure you’re ready.

I thought I was ready, but now that I’ve been through the fire, I’m not sure I was.  Mostly because I didn’t know what that meant.  Mostly because I didn’t really understand the depths of my own struggle with self-worth.  When you grow up in a way that teaches you to disassociate from those pesky emotion things, you don’t really know how injured you are.  Maybe you have a sense of it.  But you don’t really know.


So, I keep coming back to this space–trying to quantify what the future will be for me.  What I want, essentially.  The hiatus was partially because I was overwhelmed by that question.  New years force me to think about such things, and I also had a blog challenge that asked me to do just that.  There’s a very long draft stored here that rambles on (and on) about these things.

But what I thought I knew in December has changed.  Everything has changed.

In a lot of ways, it feels like my life was hijacked.  Like I have to hold on to what I want for dear life.  But I’m not sure what I want right now.

Well, mostly.

Right now, the key feeling I’m having is burnout.  And that’s not surprising at all.  When I was done with my last project, I was asked to join a launch team for a big new client.  They’re an international manufacturing company–which is basically my jam and what I did for two years before my entire work life was turned upside down.  One of my colleagues from my last project (a junior person I’ve been mentoring) joined me on the team, but everyone else was brand new to me.  We had people helping us–which was not at all normal for me.  I fell in love with everyone, but found extreme challenges.  Namely, it’s a lot to manage.  And even with all this support and all these great people, I’m working far too hard and generally losing my mind.  It’s been a grind in the ugliest form of the word.  But, I’ve learned from working as a consultant that so much of my day-to-day is not about my client.  It’s about who I’m working with.  And I love these people.  Genuinely, some of the best–most talented–humans I’ve ever met professionally.

Now, off and on, you’ll recall–I’ve wanted to jump ship and I’ve always felt like my current work had an expiration date.  So, despite loving these people, I’ve been anxious for change.  My work is very hard on me.  It just is.  Although, honestly, in many ways, this is a perfect job for me.

I decided, however, to stay–though jobs pop up that I want to apply to.  It’s hard because of other stuff happening in my life.  I kinda need this exact kind of job to be able to stay stable–which is huge for me.  But I know the people would never be as good–and I’d hate it for that.  So, it’s a bit of a catch-22.

Anyway, at some point after my vacation, I was approached by my current boss and asked if I’d like to stay on this team–rather than moving on, as planned, to the huge client I’ve been anchored to for an entire year.  They had fought to keep me, and the ball was in my court.  Naturally, I panicked and freaked out.  Saying what I wanted–rejecting people?  Not my forte.

So, after much hand-wringing, I decided to stay.  But then questioned if I made the right decision.  In some ways, I feel like neither option was mine.  However, I think I did what was best for me…or at least took the road that would be the least painful.

That still doesn’t mean it’s easy or simple.

Work has been kicking my ass lately, and I’ve mostly not know how to stop that freight train.  I’m working record numbers of hours (at my own choice) just to stay afloat and I never really catch up or get to where I need to be.  I feel like I’m drowning, and I beat myself up pretty harshly when I can’t be superwoman.  I’m exceeding all goals tenfold and getting awards for all the shit I do.  But I feel awful because it’s never enough. Someone is always going to want more from me.  And I’m always going to want to give more.

The last few weeks have taught me a huge lesson, though–and it’s one I sorta knew–but didn’t really take to heart.  No matter what I do, there will always be more to do.  If I constantly overextend myself, they will always expect more because I’ve taught them to expect more.  I cannot do it all.  Just as I can’t read every book published or know every word.  I cannot fucking do it all.

So, I have to start doing things differently because it’s really messing with my emotional health.  And it’s showing up all over the place.


I’m on self-care high alert right now.  I’ve spent months living here–feeling disconnected–and essentially spending my free time worrying about my non-free time, taking care of others, and numbing out in all the ways I numb out.  It’s a familiar, painful pattern for me and one that has to stop.

I have to stop worrying about other people’s expectations of me and pleasing them.  I have to worry about my own expectations and pleasing me.  But before I do that, I need to give myself a fucking break.

It’s not brain surgery.  The world won’t end if people have to wait.  I’m not going to be someone’s savior.  It doesn’t work that way.  All I can do is give it my best, within the time I have allotted, and forgive myself for not being everything I want to be all the time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.  But I’ve got a good therapist.

I’ve decided to start doing Miracle Mornings–mostly because it puts me on the list.  I’m awake early anyway, and it incorporates all the stuff I’ve been slacking on and stuff I genuinely crave.  I’m starting tomorrow.

I am also giving up chasing people.  Friends, loves, whatever.  The people who want to be in this life will be in this life.  I have to get better at accepting what people have to give, and if it isn’t enough, letting them go.  It’s a really hard lesson for me, but one I’ve learned a lot over the past few weeks.

I am feeling better.  The last day has been inspiring and full of old connections resurfacing and giving me stuff I didn’t realize I needed.  Turns out, I really do need people.  And I’ve spent too long focused on protecting myself from people and just trying to endure situations.  It’s time to spread my wings a bit and let myself do all the things I love more.  Which means less time to focus on things that aren’t great right now.  There’s a lot of those, and that’s scary.  But it’s also an opportunity to find real happiness and not just the one people tell me is my version.

the cold war is over.

So, things.  They’re better. We laughed. We got snippy at times.  No crying.

Ever love someone who is basically you–except the opposite gender?

We’re like the same person, and fighting with him is like fighting with myself.

I’m so used to being misunderstood, and he’s all: “duh”…while I spin and freak out and need to talk it all out.  Only he thought it was done because–duh–he gets it.

This is where loving someone and getting them so completely is actually a problem.  Because the worst fights I’ve ever had have been with myself.  And the person I ignore most–the person that I’m furious with–always–is myself.

Stop copying me.



Today was weird.  I woke up to a cat barf-choking.  She barfed right onto my client work laptop–something that was extremely hard to get, in the first place, and pretty essential to basic work functioning.  At 5 am.  I was in a bit of a panic.  The IT folks? Not so much.  You’d think the Germans would panic more.

In any case, our IT folks did superhero real well and YAY–Alma is back in the club.  Except the laptop is still dead.  So they’re sending me a new one, sometime, when they get to it.  Maybe.

But I can actually access all the things I need to access now, on my normal laptop, which means far less of me wanting to scream.  I think I’m going to keep working like this forever and use the client work laptop as a specimen of Y2K.  (Yes–it’s that old).


I smiled today.  It’s been weeks.

I’m infuriating, and I’m gonna be okay.


rules her life like a fine skylark

Hi, friends.  Yet another, long time, no see post.  And now, I’ve gone and posted twice in 24 hours.  What the hell is even happening?

Sorry I disappeared on ya.  I didn’t mean to.  I’ve opened this window about a half dozen times, and there are many drafts of things that I never finished writing.  Stuff I decided not to share.  My life has had a lot of ups and downs lately.  Pending deaths, adjacent deaths, heartache, joy, missed opportunities, future moving plans, work changes, and healing.  Life has been life, essentially.

Not gonna lie, the past month has not been my favorite.  The holidays were okay, but highlighted things that need to change.  I’m not happy with a lot of stuff right now, and unfortunately, that’s not really a new thing.  But part of an ongoing process of evolving.  I have no idea where I’ll be next year or even what I’ll be doing or who I’ll be doing it with.  But I want to make more time for the stuff I love, so writing here will be more of a priority.  I keep putting myself aside for people/things who don’t do the same for me, and that probably needs to stop.

Anyway, there’s so much I could say, but after that last post, I don’t feel like saying much more.  So, I’m just going to answer some questions and share what I feel like sharing whenever I decide to share again.


How does love and affection play a role in your life?
This probably sounds awful, but generally not much.  I value love deeply and feel like I am an affectionate person, but the times when I’ve consistently been loved ended when my mother died.  I sort of feel like love just isn’t meant for me since I’ve never really had a lot of it.  I don’t understand why, but I’ve never had people in my life.  I don’t have family that I’m close to (though that IS improving).  I don’t have a lot of close friends, none of which live nearby.  My relationship right now is complicated, and while it once felt so loving, doesn’t anymore.  My life has basically been a series of lessons in how to live without love and affection, honestly.  It’s a hard way to live, and I hope it changes, but I’m not confident it will since any love I’ve had seems to always morph into something else, eventually.

What’s one thing you’ve done, but will never end up doing again?
Stayed in a relationship after I found out the guy cheated on me.  I forgive easily, and I don’t think cheating is the fault of just one person.  It’s a product of a sick relationship.  But, for me, if you get to that point, it’s a losing battle.  It’s too destructive.  I mean everything is situational, but I doubt I’d go down that path again.

Who’s your best friend?
Other than my cats?  Me.  I mean, I’ve had friends I’ve called BFFs before, but I don’t feel close to anyone right now.

Name one of your biggest fears.
Dying like my Mama.  Maybe one of my only fears.

What do you value the most when it comes to friendship?
Loyalty.  Seems incredibly rare to find, these days.

Do you think your childhood was happier than others?
In some ways, yes.  Despite the neglect and bullshit they inflicted on me, I had damn good parents who did the best they could.  And there were moments of wonder that I don’t think most humans experience.  My childhood, as heartbreaking and traumatic as it was?  It was also fairly magical and helped create the person I am today–which is a pretty good human, I think.

What’s your most bizarre or weirdest dealbreaker?
I don’t want to date someone with the same first name as any of my major exes.  It’s like it reminds me of extreme heartache, which blocks me from being in the moment.  And it’s super off-putting.  I’ve oddly dated a few guys with one particular name, and that was okay–I guess–because they weren’t majors–but then I finally hit one who was a major–so now that name is off-limits as well. Oh, and I can’t seem to date other recruiters.  It’s weird, for some reason.

What’s the best present or gift you’ve ever received from someone?

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
I think I’ll always go back to Colorado.  Though Denver hasn’t been calling me.  I miss it, but not some aspects related to its growth.  But, Colorado, is where my heart is and always will be.  I’d also be down to live in New Zealand.  New York was calling my name for a while this year, too.  I don’t know.  I have 101 places that I’d like to call home, if only for a year or two.  But home is always gonna be Colorado.

Who do you think knows you the best?
One of my exes.  Though he doesn’t know me as the person I am now since we don’t talk, really.  He’s known all the versions of me, though, that got me to here.  Very few people know me at all.

What do you like or dislike about this city?
San Jose? Likes: art, decent Mexican food, long autumn that goes into January.  Dislikes: traffic, chain everything, privilege, gentrification, bad food overall, rude people, crime, ignorance, hypocrisy, overpriced/hyped everything.  All of it?  I seriously dislike San Jose, and the Bay Area, in general.  I can’t wait to leave.

If you could pick one, would you rather have infinite money or love?
The hopeless romantic in me wants to choose love, but love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  I think I’ll go with money because at least money affords self-care.

What type of man are you attracted to?
I tend to be attracted to guys who initially come off as creative.  People who write or paint or whatever.  Guys with guts and confidence always catch my eye.  Honest.  Vulnerable.  Flirtatious.  Straightforward.  Sensitive.  Smart.  Funny.  Self-conscious.  Adventure seekers.  Patient.  Curious.  Doers. Quirky.  Overly communicative.  Comfortable with themselves.  The reality of who they are usually differs quite a bit from these adjectives.

If you could undue anything from the past, what is it?
I probably wouldn’t get into certain relationships.  I’d say goodbye to my Mama.

What’s your favorite childhood memory?
Too many.  But dancing in my living room to the Monkees and watching GLOW is one.

How often do you talk with your parents?
They’re dead.  But sometimes, I talk to them in my dreams.  I used to talk to my Mama every day.

Are you working or going to school?
Working, unfortunately.  Thinking about going back to school (or at least applying somewhere) this year, though.

What’s the nicest thing someone could genuinely say about you?
She tried.

What is your ideal dream date?
I’m a simple girl, usually, so I don’t really have dream dates.  But I wouldn’t say no to a random surprise trip somewhere close (where I could bring my cats).

Which do you like more, going out or staying at home?
Home.  Mostly because it’s where people aren’t.

What music do you listen to the most?
KBCO-type music.  If you’re from Denver, you know what I mean.

Do you have any pets?
Three cats.  Thank God for them.  They’re literally the only reason I’m alive right now.

What celebrity would you switch lives with?
I don’t think I would.

What would you change about yourself?
How lonely I usually am.

Have you ever dated two men at the same time?
Yes, sorta.

Has a man ever asked you to marry him?
Yes.  I’ve been engaged to two men.  Close with a third.

How is your relationship with your mom?
My Mama was my best friend.  I miss her terribly, every day.

Do you have an pet peeves?
More pet peeves than I can count.

What things or person has influenced you the most?
My parents.  My childhood.  Teachers.  Cats.  Living in poverty.  The Jesuits.

What is your favorite and most treasured memory?
I don’t think I have just one.

What’s the worst thing about dating?
Finding real connection with someone and then finding out it doesn’t work.

Do you live with anyone else?
Yes–two roommates, who are engaged to each other.

If you were able to see in the future, what would you tell yourself or want to know?
I wouldn’t.

In four minutes, tell me about your life’s story.
That’s pretty specific.  Read the play.

If you had unlimited money, what would you do with it?
Give a lot away.  Buy a house by the beach.  Travel.  Take care of people.  Work for myself.

What are the craziest things you’ve ever done with someone else?
Loved them.

Are you a troublemaker?
A goody-two-shoes troublemaker.  Probably.

What do you like the most about where you work?
The people.  Hands-down some of the best humans I’ve ever met.

What in life are you the most grateful for?

Where do you like being touched the most?
My face.

How often do you watch the news?

Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?
All signs point toward suicide, but I’m guessing heart disease…given my family history.

Are there any places you would love to travel to?
All of them?

What is your greatest accomplishment?
I woke up today.

How close are you with your family?
Not.  It’s getting better.

Can you speak in any foreign languages? 
French.  A little Swahili.

What’s your dream career?
Ask me tomorrow.

What’s one thing on your bucket list?
Click on the Mighty List tab above.  But I probably should update that.  It’s been years.

If someone in your family passed away, which person would surprise you the most?
There’s only a handful left.  None surprise me.

What’s your ultimate goal in life?
I don’t have one, at the moment, really.  One foot in front of the other.

If you could go back in time, what would you want to change?
I’d say goodbye.

What’s the last book you read and really loved?
Darling Days by iO Tillett Wright

When was the last time you cried in front of someone else?
In front of someone? Early January.

What’s the right number of people to invite over on a Friday night?

Where were you born?
Denver General Hospital, in the middle of a heat wave and a baby boom.

Would you rather live in a small house with an amazing view, or a massive mansion in a subdivision?
Small house.

What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received from someone?
When someone shows you who they are, believe them.

Would you like to be famous, if so, in what way?
No.  Infamous, maybe.

Before making a phone call, do you ever rehearse what you’re going to say?
Ha.  Not anymore.  I used to, as a shy teen.

What song did you last sing to yourself?
Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac

What has inspired you recently?

What’s the best part of your week or weekend?

If tomorrow you woke up with a new quality, talent or ability, what would you like it to be?
To shed my HSP superpower and just care like a normal person…i.e., not care much at all.

If your house caught on fire, what would be one thing you would have to save first?
My cats.

What’s your most terrible memory that you’d love to forget about?
The entirety of my love life.  Ha.

If you could have dinner with anyone in the world, past or present, who would it be?
My parents.

What skill would you like to become a master at?
Forgetting.  Letting go.

If you could play the role in any movie, what person would you want to be?
Cat wrangler.

What’s your favorite photograph of yourself?
Photo caught of me, mid-laugh.

What’s one thing you’ve learned that most people don’t know how to do?
Keep going, even when everything is falling down around you and you feel utterly hopeless.

How do you spend your free time, and where do you like to go?
Biding time.

What is one habit you’re the most proud of breaking?
Not having any boundaries.

What is one thing you were afraid to do, but felt amazing after you accomplished it?
Holding someone accountable to the boundaries I set.

What role models do you respect the most?
Is anyone a role model these days?  Real question.

What about yourself do you find the most pride in?
I’m a good person.