Sunday, December 30, 2018

What 2018 taught me

"Home is where the heart," my character, Romana, from my production company's Doctor Who fan fiction web-series quoted to the Doctor upon re-uniting with him.  Truth be told, this is a long-standing held belief of mine, and no wonder my character said it, I wrote the screenplay. 



However, this year the sentiment has become all the more vivid in the core of my being.  I started this year with the loss of not just a survival job but having a dear friend move away.  A friend whose dogs I had walked, whose house had become a second home dear to me, as I had house-sat there, filmed many a scene there for our modern day Macbeth, Daggers In Men's Smiles.  So, not only was I losing a source of income, but losing a place familiar to my heart and the constant connection of a dear friend. 

Another friend told me about the dog-walking site, Rover.com, and I joined.  Thus, my survival job as a dog-walker/dog sitter grew in leaps and bounds; I have house-sat in many places around the valley this year.   Because of this, I could take you all over the valley, from Ashland to Medford, pointing out various places where I have lived and for a time, a week or more, called home. 

On top of that, my boyfriend and I had to spend a week out of our apartment due to bathroom repairs, thus lived for a bit over a week in a local, lovely, motel called the Manor Inn.  (FYI: the staff was lovely, considerate, kind, and I strongly recommend the place!)  Thus, there is another place I can point to in my travels around town.  '

In April, we were given a no-cause termination notice on our apartment, but were very fortunate enough to move into a lovely three bedroom home outside of Ashland.  Its been a dream come true.

Added to that, there are the places I frequented, the places I once resided, worked at, from years of old that are still homes within my heart.  There have been the frequent travels north, back to Eugene and Portland, where I re-visited the familiar haunts in those places.  Thus, I can truly say that the notion of "home being of the heart", not a mere location, has become an even clearer reality. 

Which leads me to the next lesson of 2018:  Community.  Or as I like to think of it, Common Unity.  In today's world, there appears to be a lack of what is a vital need for our souls.  Thus, if we are not of the religious mindset, we lack a sense of community and without knowing any real place to discover it, to fulfill that need.  What I have discovered this year is that we need to empower ourselves to seek out and design that community for ourselves, looking back at the true meaning of the word, that is, as mentioned above, common unity.  For my part, I have found and reclaimed my own community, common unity, through various means, theatre, film, my own business being able to marry the ideas of work with relationships.  Because, in the end, all of life is just that: relationships.  In these relationships and common unity, I have been able to find the honesty to fully encounter my heart's home, finding peace, strength, and solace within which gives me the bold determination to do the like for my own created community, common unity, relationships.

Lastly, the connection of home within my heart, a state of being, and the true meaning of community has given me the strength to face myself, to stand up to the detrimental effects of hatred and bullying, to those that wish to hinder my way and those of my dearest kindred spirits, and through this empowered new life focus to find the healing release of the wounds of past emotional abuse. 

Through this healing, my own sense of community within the home in my heart has given me a peace that surpasses the external reality of my life, whatever it may be good or bad, with a renewed focus, clearly described and designed, leading me higher and higher into achieving my destiny.

In 2019, I do so hope that not only will I continue to thrive, to heal, to connect more deeply with my center, but I wish the same for you, gentle reader.  Go forth into the world and seek to know, to understand, to truly see and be seen, to connect, and to arrive home within your heart, finally, at peace.



Wednesday, December 26, 2018

Make Your Own Night Court



"You are making your own Night Court."

This was a message I heard loud and clear while filming scenes for season one of Nate & Laura & How They Met, my production company's original webseries.  A childhood idol, fatherly role model, Harry Anderson, had recently passed, a few days previous.  I was raw from the loss and feeling the empty hole within my heart.  

I felt a closeness with him as never before.  He had always held a vivid connection in my heart.  He was such a magical force, full of energy and love, onscreen.  I was drawn to him, captivated by the warmth of his loving blue eyes, that seemed to penetrate through the TV screen right into my heart, giving me a sense of peace and hope.  As a small, lonely child, I felt as if someone cared for me, as if I had a family, far, far away, living a life I could only dream of and hope to attain.

Through the reality of life, I seemingly forgot about his magic pull, pushed it towards the back of my mind, distracted by the highs and lows of growing up.  But the need for a strong fatherly love and acceptance, as well as the desire to perform, burnt ever inside me and became a driving force throughout my life in what I would allow to captivate me.  Its one of the main reasons I fell hook, line, and sinker for the wiles of the fundamentalist lifestyle.

In 2012, through my own life's journey, I re-entered the theatre world, consequently openly pursued the life of an actor, suddenly realizing my true calling in life.  Nothing would stop me, I had found my home.  

Throughout the years, I would return to Night Court, watching re-runs on DVD with friends.  My heart would fall back to those early years of childhood adoration, respect, admiration for Harry and the cast and I developed a new appreciation for the show as an adult, the acting and writing specifically.  (It was an amazing show that was under appreciated in its time and I say that not as a fan, but as someone who knows their shit when it comes to writing, there I said it. Now go watch it!)

So, on that day on set, when I heard that message, my heart was still raw from the loss and the reality that I had never told him what he meant for me while he was on this plain of existence...but things were starting to change in my heart.  The reality of it was that I was feeling a closeness with him like never before.  I was beginning to see the connections throughout our lives even if we had never known each other.  We had walked similar paths and yet had never known it.  Our souls were linked on a higher level, even if we had never met face to face in this time period.  

Since his passing this year, I have walked through the stages of grief and letting go, learning to appreciate and understand just what he meant for me.  When I heard that line, "You are making your own Night Court", I barely understand what it meant but found it reassuring anyway.  I felt as if it was his voice, coming through to my soul, a strong fatherly presence that would be with me directly moving forward.  No longer would I have to feel the lack and the distance between this person, he was and always would be with me, watching over me.

As the year went on and I worked through my heart-ache, I would find more quotes and hear more messages from him that would strengthen and help me to persevere.  As the months moved on, I found my focus shifting.  No longer did I have this incessant need to keep myself updated on all the latest episodes of whatever TV show was popular and as a self-proclaimed whovian, I still haven't finished the 12th's doctor reign and yet already one season of the 13th doctor has completed.  I found this odd at first and wondered why this was now increasingly my reality.

Then, I suddenly got it.  I am now 'making my own Night Court".  I have moved this year, especially in recent months, more and more to work for myself as far as "survival jobs" so as to have more time to focus on the production company needs and my own creative pursuits, acting and writing mainly.  I solidified my vision in who I am as an artist and what I want to achieve, also what success truly means to be.  All this brought on the realization that those who have made it, found success as actors, writers, artists in any sense, have sacrificed much time and energy in these pursuits, have had drive and focus put into working hard to make their dreams a reality.  

So, in a sense, my focus in 'making my own Night Court' is making my dreams a reality, letting nothing distract from that ambition and letting the small daily goals be the impetus to reach the final outcome.  






Wednesday, December 19, 2018

Presence Nice



When my mother was a little girl, she used to listen to a song at Christmas where one of the singers would say, in a spoken voice, "Presents Nice" over and over again.  It became a catchphrase tossed about my family through all of our Christmas celebrations.  So,that's your explanation about how I came up with the title for this entry.

So, presence.  Presence Nice.  Can you see I'm stalling a bit as I scramble to stream together words to make some sense of coherent thoughts that will inspire and entertain, or perhaps just entertain.  I don't claim to be an enlightened guru.  I just like to write.  Maybe you take something away from it.  Who can tell?

I guess what comes up when I think about that hot button word, presence, is the way my mind works.  Yes, its hot button.  People toss it around in all forms of spiritual circles.  The Presence of God.  Be One With The Presence.  Be Present.  Be In The Now.  And, what I have found through my spiritual seeking is that no matter the spiritual leanings the practitioner, of sorts, will end up enforcing his or her beliefs in a way that comes out as judgmental, controlling, and condemning.  What happens, then, is that we who are on the receiving end of this behavior develop feelings of inadequacy, feelings of shame if we don't measure up.  And, as I said this is the majority of spiritual or religious practises, so no finger pointing at the Christian worldview, no indeed. 

I think in general this may be a facet of human nature, not merely a component of any spiritual belief or practice.  That's right.  As I wrote last week, anything can be a drug and in that the need to enforce said feelings or beliefs merely for our own comfort and peace of mind.  "If everyone behaves in this way, according to my limited understanding and construct, then the world will be right". 

What happens though, is that everyone is thinking this and everyone believes differently, even if they profess to follow the same religious or spiritual doctrine.  With this in mind, no one can satisfy another or fall in line with their own personal decrees, if inwardly everyone has their own description of right and wrong behaviors.  Consequently, no one truly makes a connection, no one listens, and everyone is at odds with one another.

So, there is your presence nice,  huh?

Here's the thing.  All of my life, I have had an extremely active imagination.  I was highly skilled at creative imaginative play as a child.  Parents who would drop off their kids used to tell my mother how much they loved having me over because we, their daughter and I, would just freely play without needing any outside input.  This is because our creativity would join together and provide hours of entertainment.  This sense of creativity has continued into my adulthood and has often been used as a means of escape from the humdrum of every day life. 

In the past, I often felt bad about this and recently have felt myself slip into that self-damnation.  I can dissociate, in a sense, while still having a partial mind in the present reality.  (So, maybe that's not really dissociation, then? Well, humor me.)  I create whole stories and alternate lives for myself and live them truly as I go about my daily activities, only stopping when I have to address certain individuals or circumstances in the real world.  But once that interaction or need has passed, back into the imagination I fall. 

I felt shame about this recently.  Am I missing out on the moment at hand, not fully being present, if I am locked into my imagination? But, then I came to this conclusion.  Allowing my brain to play as it were is a way of keeping it active, allowing the creative juices to flow even in the midst of the daily necessary and not so fun life chores, which allows me to be open, ready, and flexible for the time when I need to be creative, during a film shoot, an audition, during a play, a writing session, or what ever it may be.

The takeaway here for me and perhaps for you is no matter what is going on in your mind and subsequently in your body, just allow it to be.  If you are at peace, than you are present. 

As a character from an original play says, "Live your life and be happy.  No matter what, be that."


Wednesday, December 12, 2018

Are you addicted?

In the world according to Google, the definition of addiction is thus: the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity.




I've been thinking about the nature of addiction, in my life and those around me.  I've been made aware of the disastrous effects addictions to certain substances, such as alcohol, can have on an individual's physical as well as interpersonal lives, numerous times over.  Its both painful to watch and very awe-inspiring when the individual finally admits their weakness and enters recovery.
But addiction isn't just that of a dependency on an illegal substance.  Legal substances can also be an addiction, such as alcohol and for that  matter, coffee and tobacco.  
But, what does it really mean to have an addiction? And, can we have an addiction on anything else besides a substance? Can we be addicted to a TV show, a movie, a certain story, certain concepts we latch onto, a way of being we formulate as the right way, religion, even for that matter, people? Can even love, or rather the idea of it, be an addiction?
So, what does it mean to have an addiction? For my part, I do not claim to have an addictive personality, but I do believe I have had addictions, mainly to relationships of my past.  Illusions of what I desired my life to be, an escape from what I saw as lacking in my current life situations.  I even for a time sought out religious practices as a form of addiction, an escape.
Because I feel that addiction is just that, an escape.  We can surround our addictions, not substance related, with reasonings up the wazoo of why this particular item or focus is beneficial to us and to others.  And, in a sense it is.  Every addiction has its benefits, even tobacco and alcohol can have medicinal purposes.  But the sad fact becomes apparent that in abundance the addiction can become fatal, not to just our physical but also our spiritual or emotional selves.
In the abundance of our addiction, control takes over and we lose ourselves.  We lose the ability to self-analyze ourselves, to truly overcome and find healing for that which led us to the need for the addiction.  When I was attending Calvary Chapel, the draw to join and continue membership became a desire to fit in, to disappear from myself, to find the easy answers for my struggles.  Did it work? No, not entirely.  There were some benefits to that addiction.  I found some friends with whom I have sweet memories, but I still needed to sacrifice that addiction in order to find true healing and freedom from the dangerous despair of my own inflicted pain.  For years, I tried to hide within the confines of organized religion, my drug of choice at the time, to escape from the reality of my own detriment.
Now, I am not saying that religion is bad, nor am I saying that all drugs or devices are bad.  I do have many friends that have spiritual beliefs, likewise friends that partake in certain substances.  But the fact of the matter is, by allowing these aforementioned items into their lives, they are merely enjoying and not escaping.  An addiction appears when something becomes more of a reason to hide than truly allow ourselves to delve into the root of our pain, release, overcome, and find true enlightenment, as such.  But, this can be daunting and thus the addiction, whatever it is, can look more appealing, a comfort.  
So, what's the solution? For my personal life experience, recovery is an ongoing path we all partake.  We all get better with age and grow more fully into ourselves with each experience.  Thus, my path is not your path, nor is  my addictions your addictions, or my issues yours.  I won't try to rescue or save, or steer you away from something I seem detrimental.  I have seen friends fall off the wagon, seen friends make negative choices based on their need to escape, and also seen how my trying to enforce their change proved the opposite.  
So, I focus on doing what's right for myself, even if that is sacrificing a certain relationship or releasing an individual into their own despair.  I know that ultimately focusing on my own health will catapult itself to a better life for myself and those I come across.  
In actuality, that's all any of us can do.   To quote Shakespeare, "To Thine Ownself Be True."





Wednesday, December 5, 2018

Mental Illness Ain't No Excuse!

"I'm sorry, my anxiety is too much for me, I can't make it!"

"But, I need this for my mental health, so I can't make it."



Its been twelve years since I received my diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder Type 1, ten years since I found the magnet with the phrase, "What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail", and said to myself, I'd get better.  And, thus the journey began.

Throughout this journey, its been an adventure full of many highs and many lows.  I have learned how to face and fight against the stigma that comes from misunderstanding mental illness and wanting to keep it in the dark.  I have faced the the judgment of being an openly mentally ill individual, one who is increasingly living well as a person with bipolar disorder.  

I have learned to make healthy choices and set appropriate boundaries to maintain balance, stability, and positive health goals.  I have studied in many different ways and aspects to constantly improve and navigate what it means to be healthy, from therapy of all forms, learning about proper nutrition and exercise, actively promoting sufficient sleep patterns for myself, managing my time to ensure I have proper self-care, and reading ample amount of books on a variety of self-help focus, from spiritual to psychological, it runs the gamut.  

It hasn't always been easy.  I've gone for years where I felt lost, I've allowed toxic people and groups to over-run, control, and silence me.  I've had to experience my voice drowning out in the despair of abuse.  And, then despite these difficulties and the mood instability, I've broken free and grown better.  

I have learned, specifically in this last year, that I have developed, for a myriad of reasons, the ability to doubt and reject the love given to me.  Yes, I am a person that loves freely and gives it abundantly, but I have grown used to in years previous having my love taken for granted, smashed brutally on the rocky terrain of abuse, leaving my soul shattered in a wasteland of tragic depression.

But, I rise.  I get up through some force not fully known to me.  I keep on the focus, knowing I'm meant for more.  I continually study and analyze myself, learning to value and strengthen my self worth and ability to receive love.  

I do all this while not only pursuing my artistic ambitions, or rather, my true calling in life, but also by maintaining the various survival occupations I do in order to live, pay my bills, while waiting the next acting related opportunity or audition.  Do I complain? I try my hardest not to.  In contrary, I have learned to balance my life so as not to spread myself too thin and to communicate openly my needs in an honest, straightforward, non-manipulative fashion.

This has been my life for the last twelve years and will continue to be.  I will grow more and more comfortable and able to thrive, not merely survive, I know this.  Why am I saying this, writing this for all to read? Not to garner sympathy or to endeavor to create a victim mentality for myself, I assure you.  But, because as an actor and now a producer, I have witnessed many, mostly, younger actors expressing the excuse to not come to rehearsal or a film shoot because of their anxiety, they need to take the day off.

Now, I am not meaning to seem like I have a lack of compassion or understanding, because believe me I know all too well the effects of anxiety.  I do know how it feels to work tirelessly at a low paying job while trying to live a happy life, barely scraping by feeling like you are falling more and more into the perilous poverty line, sacrificing your dreams merely to exist.  I know the stress caused by having to go without.  I get it, I do. 

However...

Recall 2007? A very infamous pop star known as Britney Spears had a very public break-down and the word "Bipolar" was carelessly tossed around to describe her.  Whether she has that diagnosis has never publicly been proclaimed but it would appear to be appropriate, however, I will not label her as such.   Only to say that at the time of her emotional struggles, I was in the throes of my intense period of emotional struggle.  It felt as if there was no end in sight.  Despite not ever really being a fan of Britney, I hungrily devoured any information I could find about her at that time.  I felt a kinship with her like never before.  

What was the public reaction to Britney's break at the time?  Was it to come around her and empower her to make the choice to recover and heal? No.  It was mockery, shame, tabloid photos of her in all sorts of unflattering position, resulting in more of her unstable moments.  I feel for her now, I've been there.  Here was a woman, who from a very early age, had been subject to the stress of overwork and constant public exposure, having to maintain the right image while most likely hiding the increasing debilitation of her emotional struggles, until the heartbreak of the loss of her husband caused her the break that made her spiral out of control, until rock bottom occurred.

At the same token, I was finding my way into an organization called NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) and meeting with friends who like me had mental health conditions, as it were.  At that time, one of the topics we would discuss in our support groups was the stigma surrounding our illnesses in society.  "Mental Illness is an Illness like none other," we'd quote, in our diligence to fight against this debilitating reality.  But, constantly we'd express how when applying for a job, we could never explain long stretches of unemployment, having to give some excuse as "just couldn't find a job" and never "I took some time off to heal from a mental health break".  We could never call in to work because of "anxiety" without the recourse of losing our job or facing the judgment of boss and co-workers alike.  We'd have to happily take very part-time jobs, 2 or 3 hours a day, without explaining why so we could focus the rest of the time on our mental health and self care.  We could only express and be open about our mental health conditions with others who struggled and lived as such.

Knowing this, what are my friends and even Ms. Spears doing in our day to day lives.  Are we using our mental illness as an excuse and a crutch to not fulfill our responsibilities? No, we are merely living our lives day to day, with a quiet determination to pursue our best lives and create our most healthy selves.  We are not bragging or emphasizing our mental health discrepancies, we are simply living well with them.  They are not our identity, merely a part of us. 

Now, I know that some of this is still true today and that, despite advances in acceptance of mental illness, stigma still lives and we still have a fight ahead of us.  Yet, I am very elated by the advancements in the movements to overcome the injustices and biases, such as the Black Lives Movement, #metoo movement, and the semi-colon movement.  All of these have given individuals the ability to openly express themselves, their struggles and insecurities.

In this, I fear that the backlash has been an overuse of the buzz words as an excuse to get out of jail free card.  And, I want to express to these individuals the pathway that got us here and even more-so the detriment that applies when this reasoning is given.  For starters, by using this excuse and not honoring your own needs before committing to a project, you continually perpetuate your own suffering, for if you are always succeeding at the "getting out of jail free card" without any recourse, you won't be able to truly overcome.  Secondly, the stress that is caused when you don't show up for rehearsal, work, or what may be, on the rest of those involved causes a strain on their mental health.  This, then, returns back to you causing your anxiety to increase.  

Please understand now that I truly do empathize and also does society.  But, from what I have learned, the best lesson in life is experience.  Before committing fully to a project, look over your life, your needs and what you can do, examine these times of the past when you have over-committed and had to back out, recall how it made you feel and made others feel, and do the right thing, if you need to, and openly back out.  I promise you that in the long run more respect will be given to you and relationships will remain fully intact.  Not only that, but through this process of self-examination, you will develop a healthier life-style, one of which will enable you to overcome your difficulties and continue to help the fight to reduce the effects of stigma.

The saying goes, honesty is the best policy and its true, in life and in our mental health.  By doing so, we can come together to achieve a better world for ourselves and for future generations.  




Wednesday, November 28, 2018

Just A Girl!

All of my life I've been a girl, born with the female gender parts, loving societal imposed idea of what it means to be feminine...and yet being ashamed of it.

Growing up, girls and women were looked down upon as incapable, less intelligent, not as strong. Yes, even in the 1980's and 1990s, this was a reality.  Thus, even while wearing the dresses, make-up, jewelry, I found myself feeling increasingly uncomfortable as I progressed through life, more and more developing a low self worth and appreciation. 

It wasn't until I started meeting my many wonderful transgender friends, looking beyond the manipulations of the conservative church's viewpoints, and seeing these friends as individuals who are seeking to define and live with truth, integrity, and fully themselves.  As they came out more and more, I witnessed with joy and wonder their ability to be truly who they are inside.  That was a revelation and a moment of reality for myself.

I wasn't being authentic and real with myself.  I wasn't allowing myself to be truly 'me', was allowing the forces of the patriarchy to shame and silence me into oblivion.

Then one day, almost by chance, I came across a facebook page of a friend who identified herself as "cis-gender female".  At first, I thought this was a means of attacking the transgender individuals, as the conservative christian worldview would label their being only two sexes, because God.  Whatever.  So, I sought the advice of a good transgender female friend and asked her about this.  She helped me immensely by sharing that it was not a smear tactic but a validation of this girl to admit her true self to the world without fear.  By calling herself 'cis gender female' this girl was boldly and radically outwardly defining her inward self with pride, in a sense, she was coming out.

To clarify, cis-gender is defined as "denoting or relating to a person whose sense of personal identity and gender corresponds with their birth sex."

Learning about this form of identity was a healing revelation for me.  By opening myself to this and beginning to share with the world, I found strength within myself.  For the first time in my life, I could dress how I wanted to dress without feeling the strain of being not good enough, smart enough, not capable enough fall upon me.  I began to truly live and be myself.   On this journey, I began to realize that I am lovable and worthy of love, that I am truly capable, intelligent, funny, and more than just a pretty face.  I have worth beyond my looks and yet how I decide to suit up is based solely on my desires and needs, thank you very much.

To this end, I proudly say with the band, No Doubt, I am "Just A Girl.

Wednesday, November 21, 2018

So, like, thanks!

 Thanksgiving is my favorite of all the holidays.

Now, don't get your panties in a bunch, you hear me? I am not talking about the historical aspect of the day.  I, too, was spoon-fed the heroic story of the pilgrims settling in the land who were rescued by the helpful natives and the union of the two that 'first thanksgiving'.  I, too, dressed up like a pilgrim and made paper head-dresses in my early childhood school years.  Later, I also learned the truth of what happened moving forward in our country's sordid past, the trail of tears, and all of that.

But, I am not talking about the historical thanksgiving as I have stated above, but the spiritual or metaphorical one.  Yes, I love this holiday because most everyone across the country takes a pause to gather with family (or our chosen family) and reflect upon the gifts given to them.  Some may take this from a religious manner and others from a mere place of humanistic gratitude.  Whatever the root, the act of meditating on thankfulness is the true reason for the season and the motivation for my love of the holiday.

That said, I'd like to take some time to reflect on what I have to be grateful for over this past year, before the hubbub busyness of shopping, cooking, and out of town guests takes over my world.

First, on the gratitude list, the basics.  I am grateful for my sexy red Sonic.  When I was looking for a new car after the PT Cruiser was thankfully taken from me, I kept visualizing myself driving in a red car.  Through my searching, I was led to TC Chevy and there it was.  It wasn't my first choice, but it was the right selection.  The salesman at TC Chevy, not working on commission, walked me through the purchasing process to best fit my needs and I am grateful for him and for the fact that every month the payments are made and the outstanding debt towards that is slowly, gradually reduced to what is not seemingly insurmountable.  

And, for the first time in years of many, I have full coverage health insurance.  That in itself is worthy of much jubilation.  

I am thankful for my new little, ramshackle, home.  The wind blows wildly on our hill, but the view and the acreage, the fact of still in Ashland, just 5 minutes by car outside of town, in the country is a dream I never thought could ever be and yet here I am.  

My kitties, Tansy and Leo, who provide hours of enjoyment and affection through their sweetness, sense of humor, and cuteness.  And, of course, my boyfriend, Michael, who is truly my biggest supporter and best friend, who understands me truly like no other.  Together with our two hilarious kitty cats, we make up a strange and adorable little family.  I am truly proud of him in all he does and honored to live and work alongside of him these last 5ish years.

Moving onwards into the second phase of my gratitude list:

I am thankful that now I can work independently, carving out my own schedule and using the resources of financial, relational, spiritual, and others, to make my life be my life and pursue my dreams without looking back.  In a very real sense, I am grateful for those crazy years of my early diagnosis, the darkness of the despair, that led me to the choice of disability so that I am the position of working for myself and in that allowing my health to be a driving force in pursuing my art, ambitions, and dreams.

In that, I am thankful that by working for myself and using my resources wisely, money is no longer an enemy working against me but a tool under my say and control.  In that, not only are the bills paid in full, mostly, but I see a gradual reduction in debt and an overall sense of peace in my financial circumstances.  It is truly a momentary struggle that through diligence and thoughtful perseverance I will overcome and in that there is joy.

It may seem strange to be thankful for a mental health condition and I do not want it to seem like I am boasting that I do not have to work the normal job.  I believe I paid my dues in life, first by having the struggles that come from having bipolar disorder, and then by placing myself in multiple different abusive relationships, from romantic to spiritual, sometimes simultaneously, and back again.  Through going into the depths of my emotion, both highs and lows, I have been provided with the gift of deep soul searching and self analysis, coming up with a depth of understanding of myself and human nature, as well as compassion.  

And, thus we enter the final phase of my gratitude list, at least for now:

I am thankful that in moving towards working for myself, carving out my own schedule, I have had the freedom and the time to focus on myself, who I am spiritually, mentally, emotionally, physically, as well as career-wise.  I've spent time reading through book after book, whether it be the myriad forms of spirituality, career focused books either on how to improve my craft as an actress, how to be the best producer and/or business-woman ever, and, of course, the random 'fun book', a novel and yes, a non-fiction book about the Ketogenic lifestyle.  (So, sue me, that's fun for me!)  All of these books read a little each morning has given me a sense of renewed focus and calm throughout each day.  Through the course of these studies, I have begun to choose my own path when it comes to spirituality, realizing that I do not need to identify or conform to any form of organized religion and that I truly can draw from each to find the quiet within.  Focusing in on the aspects of my career has given me a renewed drive to continue forward in my goals and ambitions, to see the fruits of my labor come true one way or another.  Lastly, the studies into the Ketogenic lifestyle diet have not only brought health to my physical but has provided such a reduction of my anxiety, mood instability, and reactivity that I never thought possible.  (It is primarily that reason alone that I am such a devout activist for the Keto Way!)

And, of course, I am always thankful for each of my loved ones, the ones far away and those close by.  Those who have come into my life recently and those who have recently left, whether through life changes or death. (That includes you, Papa Harry!)  Each of you have colored my life with such intensity and beauty that enhances every aspect of my life.  You help me to enjoy life to the fullest, help me to take myself less seriously, help me to see alternate angles of my otherwise narrow viewpoint, and then help fuel my creativity.  Because of your positive influence and love in my life, I have grown stronger, am increasingly becoming more and more free from the effects of the abuse, have been able to choose love and allow it in as well as continuously noticing, then eliminating toxic elements from my life.  

Friday, November 16, 2018

Use Your Words

I am committed to writing once a week but this week I had a surge of thoughts that fueled the need for my creativity in the blog-world. 

I've been thinking a lot about words and how we use them for our benefit and our detriment.  (Funny enough, I'm a writer so this is a good thing.)

Often times, I hear people say "I'll worry about that later" in a casual way referring to a certain act or duty that they can focus on later.  But when you think about it, the word that stands out to me is, well, worry.  Are you truly going to "worry" about that later? Are you planning to have a major anxiety attack when such and such occurs where you have to finish that task?

That's what I'm saying.  The meaning behind worry is that of anxiousness, fretting, despair. We use it in such a casual way without thought.  But I think words have power in our psyche and those around us.  How about changing that sentence to, "I'll focus on that later".  Try it.  I have and I have found definitely more peace of mind in my daily activities.

Which brings me to another more important usage of wordings, one that is far more prevalent to my way of being personally and closely attached to a cause I feel strongly about.  I have been open about my mental health condition, that of Bipolar 2 and the journey therein.  This year I have once again joined forces with my local NAMI chapter, (NAMI-SO), and am an IOOV (In Our Own Voice) presenter, traveling from location to location sharing about my journey through recovery and that of finding myself.

Chances are, you have read or heard me express this statement, "I have Bipolar Type 2".  This is significant in that I do not say "I am Bipolar".  One wouldn't say "I am cancer" or "I am diabetes".  An individual is not their diagnosis, mental or physical.  My identity lies in who I am and how I choose to define myself.  My mental health condition is just one facet of who I am, not the whole picture.

The other key factor I'd like to express in the usage of words is the prevalence in our society today to blatantly misuse the diagnoses of mental health conditions as adjectives.  We hear frequently, "I'm being so OCD" or "She is so bipolar", or "its very schizophrenic of me".  Its hard to express how very wrong this is to someone without a mental health diagnosis of any variety.  How insulting and belittling it can be.  But, I will try.

Once again, we do not use the words of physical illnesses in this way. And, yes, I know that physical illnesses do not generally attempt to describe characteristics as mental illnesses do, but the same rules apply as above.  For reasons due to stigma, fear, and ignorance, society has separated mental illnesses from other illnesses entirely, even to go so far as to not consider it an actual illness.

Society has come so far.  Usages of words that were casually tossed around in my youth and before, such as comments based on sexual orientation, race, have been given the red mark of approval and a person who uses those in a flippant fashion is marked as bigot.  But, the wordings around mental illness remains very much alive.  Its the last frontier in finding true equality in my mind.

Here's my challenge: when you find yourself about to use a mental health condition, such as the ones listed above or others, stop yourself and think: Can I really imagine what it is like to be a person suffering with such a disorder? Would I want to hear my diagnosis passed around with such disregard if I were a person with such condition? and more so, What if there is someone in my surroundings that has this condition or another who is afraid to come out about it and this would lessen their recovery journey even more?

Questions to ponder.  I hope this blog gives you pause to think and that you begin to, in fact, use your words.


Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Don't Recover In Isolation

This past year I have had an abundant chance to sit back and ponder myself, to once again dig deep into the depths of my psyche, and uproot some toxic elements in my life internally and then externally.

Over the course of this last week, I have been down for the count with what I thought was the end all be all of flus, but rather turned out to be a really bad head and chest cold.  But, why judge and label a physical illness? I was sick, I took to my bed, and slept day in and day out. I stepped back from the outside world to fall deep into the covers and allow my body to shake, shake, shake in the fits of fever until the germs infecting my body were eliminated.  And, eliminate they did, through my sweat glances, my nasal passages, even going to the bathroom and expelling #2.  (I gifted you just then with a lovely image for your day to ruminate on, don't say I never gave you anything, okay?)

So, I texted my various clients I work for, mostly dog walking, with the words, "I have the flu, I'm dying", minus the latter, and they waived me off with "Get better, see you next week".  It was that simple.

But, for some reason, a person stepping back from the world to dig deep into the inner sanctum of their mind, to find healing and refreshment for the soul, is looked down upon as weak.  We victimize the mental illness component because it is invisible and thus scary.  This reinforces that delightful little social construct called "stigma".  Stigma, the word, that forces us all back into the darkness, to hide, and even worse, to buck up and keep moving forward.  But, we can't do that.  Because one way or another that pain will find itself outwards and we will need to retreat, rest, recuperate.

And, we should NOT feel less of a person because of this.  Or be MADE to feel less of a person or devalued because of this.  Know yourself enough to value yourself, do what's right for yourself, because when you do, you truly do what is right for the world.

So, this year I have had the chance to retreat while doing my daily activities that bring in the dough or some how cultivate my livelihood. I have not run the rat race or been the busybody of times past or allowed myself to dive too deep into the madness of the social life.  In that, I have found a sense of peace in the midst of life's storms and in that peace a steady calm emerges that leads me to accomplish what I need and want to achieve.  That's right.  Its truly a 'slow and steady' wins the race.  Taking the time each day, each moment, of the year to focus both in small ways and large ways on your own mental and emotional health brings a degree of calm that helps to elongate the productivity of the physical.  Moreover, there is an inward joy that is present regardless of the outward accomplishments and circumstances.  Meanwhile, if I don't get it all done, I still am content with what I did finish for the day and am inwardly motivated to continue thus forward.

I honestly feel that if we want to make the world a better place, the first place to start is not without in angry violent attempts to enforce the values we see as right, but by inwardly cleansing to the very center of our soul.  This is truly not a popular choice to make and one that takes a bit of time and sacrifice.  For my part, I have taken the time to be by myself. I have read up to twenty books this year, truly read, not for the number count but to digest and let the words cleanse.  These books contain three genre at a time, that's right, I'm a book nerd, what of it? The genres include a variety of spiritual (whatever I am led to), a business-related book which can be either some form of acting related theme or something to do with my business, marketing, producing, and a fun book.  In addition to this, I have tried my darnedest to journal daily, I've taken up yoga, and am slowly attempting to teach my guitar.  Lastly, I have adapted my eating habits to the ketogenic diet and not just as a fad.  I have read up to three books on this lifestyle choice and am working through a fourth.  I have started another blog to reflect these findings and this journey.  Check it out: http://my-keto-me.com (Become a follower, you know you want too!)

In all of this, I have learned that the most important take-away in whatever variety of health-seeking activities is the component of removing the toxic element.  Through the discovery of some toxic relationships and connections this year, I have discovered that not only can I stand up for myself, say no with graceful empowerment, but I can survive the anguish of grieving the loss of friendship and the abuse thrown at me.  I can persevere and continue forward with my goals and ambitions for my life.  Does this removal process get easier? In a sense, yes.  I have learned that when the toxicity of individuals is cast my way, it generally has little to do with me.  And, so like the school yard chant, the 'words do not stick to me', I'm rubber, they're glue, so to speak.

There is grieving and healing needed, a time of inward reflection to find the grace to continue and grow in further awareness of self.  But, I have learned and continue to learn that I cannot allow myself to be held back by the abuses of others' insults, jealousies, methods of control.  I spent too much of my past being tied down and silenced by that.  More so, it is the realization that I am on the right path when the arrows fly towards me in envious attempts to wound me.


So, I persevere both my ambitions and my mental health needs.  And, an amazing discovery happens.  When I make the active choice to rid myself of toxicity, the positive rushes in with abundance, both for my personal health and in my relationships.  More and more when I move away from the toxic interpersonal element in whatever variety it presents itself, I find myself inwardly growing stronger, more present and aware of myself, and am thus surrounded by the light of positive love around me.

Thus we come to the title of this blog, "Don't Recover In Isolation" for which I am much thankful.  Yes, there is a component to recovery that can only be found with self but in that time of self-care there is to be found like-minded individuals who can facilitate the growth.  This is why AA groups and such are beneficial.  I have come into contact with a variety of different such groups in my recovery walk and in this year specifically.  I was reunited with my NAMI family, but this time new faces same organization and I am utterly grateful for their presence.  Within these relationships, I find the joy of truly being honest with myself, my weaknesses, and my needs which brings freedom and joy.  Over the last few years and even more this year, I have come into close contact with a social media collection of souls through our mutual love of the podcast, "Drunk Ex-Pastors" and through such interaction I have found further healing from the past church abuse.  To be honest, I do not think that I would have as much peace with that whole business if it were not for that group.  And, by having the strength to eliminate the toxic element in my own business and personal life, I have found like-minded friends, both new and old, that have come alongside to help me achieve my ambitions, goals, and wildest dreams.

Pretty nifty, huh? So then, invest in the time for your own mental health as you would your physical, and moreover, don't recover in isolation.

Wednesday, October 31, 2018

The House On The Corner

In my neighborhood as a young child, there was this old house, long since abandoned by its original owners. 

Let me back track, I grew up in a rural country club environment, emphasis on the rural.  When I say 'country club', don't let your mind run crazy with the golf club, the private meals, focus solely on the country part of it and you are basically right there.

But like any country club type deals, we had a lot of families that owned second homes in our neighborhood and up they would trek from the faraway city of San Francisco and its surrounding areas (well, its really only about an hour north, but for a smallish child that's a trek), for the summer months and weekends.

We called them the "weekenders".  We were pretty creative with our nicknames, weren't we? True to form, we were called the "year-rounders".  Oh, the depths of our creativity!  See,  we described someone as such, "Oh so and so, they are a weekender" meaning we only see them on certain weekends or lengths of time during the summer months, and otherwise their house is empty and so very very alone.

That said, for the smattering of kids that were like me, year-rounders, we had free roaming rights of the neighborhood.  Thus, we are the ones that truly can say we grew up there.  Yes, my friends from childhood that were, in fact, weekenders, or big city snobs as I jokingly called my friend, Matt, can say they spent their childhood in my neighborhood called, "The Vineyards" (which at the time there was no single person with a 'vineyard' and Sonoma County, at the time, was yet to truly become the booming wine industry it is today, so why someone decided that's what it should be called was a mystery that alluded discovery in my childhood).  But its us 'year-rounders' who survived not just the flood of '86, and again, '95, and then once again for good measure, '97, who also suffered the boredom of trying desperately to fill up the time when there was just nothing to do, no one to talk to, until maybe that sporadic moment when something unusual happened like a friend appeared, or someone moved in that you'd never seen before, and you spent all sorts of time speculating on them and not actually talking to them.  It wasn't the weekenders, like Matt, who came up in the summer and who was entertained by our silly country ways, found fishing, sailing, swimming, and endless hours of Speed (the game not the drug) fascinating.  (Um, Matt, if you are reading this, sorry, dude, I don't mean to be picking on you, you are just a representation of that breed of human called "weekenders", we cool?). Most of our daily lives back then were spent watching tv shows like Punky Brewster, Night Court (for me especially), and Saved By The Bell.  Our life was a tame, very quiet existence, where we spent most of it imagining what life was like in big wildness of the city.  (Or was that just me?)  We dreamed of a way out...

Sometimes throughout the year, there would be parties held at the clubhouse in the center of the neighborhood, smack dab next to the community lake (did I mention the lake?).  The best of these was of course the Halloween Party.  We got to roam pretty freely about the neighborhood in our costumes acquiring our loot of candy, without any fear of the kind of stuff one worries about today, and then afterwards down to the clubhouse for the fun of a very teeny haunted  house, a friendly neighbor lady dressed up as a palm reader, bobbing for apples, oh the fun never stops.

Okay, now back to the mysterious house on the corner.  It was one of the first houses built in the "Vineyards".  It was, and is, a deep grey house set back into a wooded tree lined driveway.  Trees grew up through both the front and back porch.  What's more, furniture, books, a tv, a radio all were left as they had been when the owners had been there.  The electricity was still connected, the phone still rang, off the hook.  It still  had a phone number you could call, and call we did.  (Remember when I said there wasn't much to do?)  As wee young folk, we'd peek in the windows, trying to out scare each other with the mysterious hauntings we would see.  "Look, there's a ghost!"  "Where?" "There."  "Oh I see it."

Later on, in my pre-teen years, I told my friends a ghost story about a young girl who had lived there that had a heart shaped birthmark on her cheek.  She fell in love with a guy that died under somewhat strange circumstances, some random war perhaps, and she just waited and waited for him in a tree on  the front porch, wouldn't get down, did not eat or anything, grew more and more pale, the heart shaped birthmark increasing in its redness until one day, she fell to her death, like four feet.  See, I'd say, here's the mark where her head crashed into the brick killing her instantly.  Sometimes at night you could see her ghostly presence sitting there, singing and waiting, waiting and singing.  The little neighbor boy down the street from my house (Bobby was his name, See Matt, you aren't the only one I am choosing to pick on) had nightmares because of it.  And, even though I stole the story from a L.M. Montgomery novel I had read, I still thought I saw her from time to time when I walked home in the evening from a friend's house (most likely Corinne, see another friend I'm picking on, Matt!) or randomly walked through the neighborhood late at night empowered by the spirit of the moon.

We found out that the original family had built the house, raised their kids as "weekenders", and then when the kids had grown, had divorced.  Thus, the house just sat full of all of its trappings and memories for us to speculate, ruminate, imagine.

In my early teens, it was rented out by a girl about my age, another weekend-only family, and I struck up a friendship with for the sole purpose of being able to go into that amazingly epic house with all its mystery attached.  I'd invite her to come over on the Saturday evenings when she was in town, when I saw the thrill of the lights on, to get in good with her.  We'd watch my current obsession of a movie, Wayne's World.  (I watched that movie a gazillion times just on my own, in all fairness, until the video itself wore out.  Yeah, I'm old enough that we only had videos for watching movies, so bite me!)

The house represented something untouchable, unattainable.  Like the big city from which Matt hailed (ha ha) and the world beyond, it was something we had yet to see but were always reaching towards, seeking discovery.

Then one day, in early teenage years, we got our wish.  One of our friends, a weekender, discovered that we could all slip through the doggy door at a side door and in we went.  We excitedly and with an air of danger moved through the house, calling to one each other, when we found something interesting.  One friend opened up a closet and joked, "All the skeletons fall out."  I remember that specifically for some reason.  Later on when the colder, bare months of winter would set in, the year-rounders would crawl inside, turn on the heater a bit, and make phone calls.  (We were an inventive rebellious and perhaps a bit odd bunch.)

In my neighborhood as a young child, there was this old house, long since abandoned by its original owners. 

I'd like to dedicate this blog to the aforementioned "Bobby", "Corinne,  the girl who I used to watch Wayne's World and struck up a friendship so I could find out what it was like to live in said house, and to give my heartfelt thankfulness to "Matt" without my ability of picking on him the story could not have been told (well, it could have been, just not in an interesting fashion.)




Friday, October 19, 2018

The Curious Incident of Opening A Show


Tonight I open a show at Barnstormers' Theatre entitled "The Curious Incident of the Dog In the Night-Time".  I'm super excited about this production and it marks my first time crossing the boards in a very long time.  Last night we had our preview night and it felt amazing to be once again in front of a live audience.  I felt a sense of communion, cast and crew working together, silently communicating, to bring forth this story touching the audience with said members receiving and giving the energy back to us the performers at once.

Its a beautiful thing, this communal magic that happens once you rehearse and birth a creative endeavor, nothing compares to that of live theatre.  I imagine for a comic doing stand-up there is a similarity, that being an immediate connective relationship to the audience, or a singer in a band as well. 

In recent years, doing more film related work, I have developed more of the instant acting technique.  I do my due diligence of background work and all of that, but there is less of a focus on that in the actual performance.  I'm committed more to the moment now.  The story I have created in my mind lives within my gut and I consciously forget about it as it resides there, while performing.  I strive to stay in the moment, connecting with the other actors in the scene, feel the energy coursing through me reaching outwards from my finger tips, vibrating throughout my body, onwards to the rest of the cast, the audience, the greater beyond.

I act and create stories now for that reason alone, whether it be film or theatre, or any form of acting creativity.  I risk everything in life, sacrifice the comforts of the safe life in pursuit of my dream, to chase after my dream of achieving that artistic communal sense.  It is all I desire and the force that strengthens me, that fuels me to get up each morning and to continue the hustle towards achieving the impossible dream.


Some may call me crazy or try to discourage me, but as I'm discovering in "Make Your Mark" by Coyte G. Cooper, PH.D, all those that achieved success and made a real difference in this world for the impact of good were told or allowed to believe that they could not.  They were those that risked everything, gave up the normal arenas of life, security, broke forth from this comfortable life to allow their life purpose to become reality.

It is this reason that I continuously strive for my impossible dream, not merely for success or to see my name in lights, to feed my fragile ego, but for that desire to reach and to know the world, to learn and to see how truly beautiful the people are that populate this planet, and to share and bring their stories, their truths to live, and in the end to bring a little bit more light and healing to the world.

That is why we artists suffer and then seek to thrive, for the glory of artistic communion.

The Curious Incident of The Dog In The Night-Time opens tonight at Barnstormers' Theatre and runs through November 4th.  Evening shows start at 7:30 pm and matinees at 2:30.  The show is masterfully directed by Madeline DeCourcey.  Young actor, Julius Pratt gives a stellar performance as Christopher Boone, an autistic who undergoes a transforming journey to find himself and learn his value in the world. 

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

My Favorite TV Show Ever!


I just wish there was some book, something to explain and help navigate. I just wish it didn't hurt so bad. Endings.


I look at the faces in the photo above and my heart swells with joy.  I grew up in a smaller Northern Californian city, in the outskirts of the back of beyond on five acres in a rural neighborhood. I spent my childhood rambling through the hills, the woods, the streams, freely.  I never claimed to be a tomboy, that's absurd, but I do define myself proudly and always as a country girl.

My imagination was my closet friend and my best escape.  It was then and is still today.

As I ventured into pre-teen and adolescence, my need to disappear from reality as the hormones began to rage within me grew to an increasing wave inside.  After school, I would come home, grab my oreos, and head to the basement to distract myself with the likes of TV shows such as Animaniacs, Abbot & Costello (when I said I studied comedy from an early age, I meant it) and somewhere along the way I discovered Night Court.  And, my world went from the dull sepia to the vibrancy of color.  

One can talk about the greatness of the show, although at the time under appreciated, the talent both onscreen and off, the writing, but for me it went to a deeper level. I was hooked, although most of the jokes went above my head, it mattered not to me.  Something in the story-line, the characters' connection, was very vivid and real to me.  As much as I have affection and admiration for the five other actors, the main focus of the connection was the lead, Harry Anderson.  His presence onscreen was delightfully humorous (even though I did not get all the jokes at that young age), but he also had this sweet sensitivity and warmth within his comedy that resonated with me.  (Also, his last name was the same as my family surname,  keep that relevancy in your mind.)

I was a lonely, sad child despite my many friends and rambling imagination.  My small school did not have a drama department or much to offer in the arena of the arts.  I had to go three cities over to take drama classes and voice lessons.  Worth it it was, but it did leave a big chasm in my social connections close at home.  My friends would marvel and laugh at me over my love of this show, but I cared not.  A friend and I came up with a special swim for this show.  That's right.  It was a version of the breast stroke whereas we pop our heads above water and say "Night", then under the water, up again with "Court" and onwards to the end and back.  I told you I was a comedy geek.  

Also, this was before the onset the Internet, I had to really hunt for information on Night Court.  These actors would not be found in the pages of Teenbeat or the like.  Imagine, Richard Moll, aka Bull Shannon, doing a sexy spread with screaming girls' drooling...


I think not.

Ultimately, I was a lonely, sad child, despite my many friends and siblings.  I didn't feel there was anyone that I could connect to, that could truly understand my creative and weird sense of humor.  And, that's a very lonely place to be.  With Night Court, I found six individuals who demonstrated characters who were unabashedly real in their wacky and weird lives.  I wanted Christine's hair-style.  Wait, let me clarify, you remember the shoulder length one with the bangs, yeah, that one.  That was so stylish and cute.  And, she was strong, sassy, smart, and beautiful.  She was exactly who I wanted to be then and when I grew up.  I watched in awe of the talents of John Larroquette and Harry Anderson.  I wanted to do what they were doing.  Well, I didn't want to lust over bimbo girls or make wacky practical jokes (well maybe the latter) but what I wanted was to act.  They inspired me to pursue my dream of acting.  And, during the close-up end scenes of Night Court, when Harry made a touching monologue of import, I listened and looked deeply at his caring, sympathetic eyes and longed for him to look at me with those eyes and to listen to me.  I was looking for a sympathetic, warm father figure.  I just wanted someone to listen.


As the years went by, I ventured into adulthood and the busyness of life, never truly forgetting Night Court.  In 2006, I was diagnosed with Bipolar 2 which set me on a journey to soul-searching recovery and healing.  I realize now that I have sought for years to fill the hole of caring "daddy" in various ways from my favorite high school teacher to a brief stint in a conservative Christian worldview.  Yes, I now see that whole experience in the mad mad church years was to fill that vacancy.  But, in truth, there was only one that filled that spot in my heart, that of Harry Anderson.  


As I got older, I always hoped to tell him just what he had meant to me.  How he helped, without knowing, a scared little girl feel safe and loved, if only for a half an hour each week.  

Then this week, I received a crushing blow.  He was gone.

Perhaps there is some lesson to be learned in his loss before the others.  Daddy's passed on, Lia, time to grow up.  Never forget the joy he brought, the magic he infused into your heart, carry it with you, but move forward.  So, this week as I read the twitter posts and such from his cast-members, those oh so familiar faces, as I scan photo after photo, religiously watch video after video on YouTube of Night Court and his other works all with a desire to connect with others feeling this lack, to find some solace as we all collectively unite in our grief and healing.  


These last three days I've taken long walks and spent some time in deep pondering.  I've let tears flow from a broken heart.  I've indulged in oreos as I fondly remembered my child-like self.  And, I've felt a message from Harry as I watched the videos left behind:

"Take Life Less Seriously."

I will.  We all will. Thank you, Harry, for sharing your magic, your light, and your love with us.  You were truly one of a kind.  

And, from my heart, thank you to Papa Harry and the entire cast of Night Court for filling a scared, little girl's heart with hope of a better life.  I am alive today, pursuing my art and acting career because of each of you.



I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you

Anywhere, I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you
And I will swallow my pride

You're the one that I love
And I'm saying goodbye

(excerpt from "Say Something(I'm giving up on you)" by A Great Big World)