I’m a nearly 40-year-old mom of two toddlers and I would just like a standing ovation every once in a while. After childbirth, at the very least.
I’m here because I cannot move through one more moment of this life without being the real me. That means telling my truth about marriage and mom-ing, ex-boyfriends and blacking out, counting calories and hard conversations. It means sharing where I am, right now, even though I’m nowhere close to my “future wise self” who came to me in a vision dressed in hunter green with radiant skin, and sober.
I read memoirs because I’m only interested in ideas that are attached to personal stories. I share what I learn from each memoir on my podcast, and apply what I learned to my own writing.
Each week I ask myself the same question: What am I struggling with? And then the words fall out.
A Jersey girl who had a love affair with LA and found home on the coast of North Carolina.
I tout my former Division I field hockey player status like an Ivy Leaguer who name drops Harvard. (To be clear, I did not go to Harvard.)
I turned our guest bedroom into a year-round Christmas room, and every December I make a lip sync Christmas card video with my husband and our kids. I’ve read the Harry Potter series at least three times, and one year in my 30s dressed as the Half-Blood Prince for Halloween. I wore a boy’s Prince Charming costume and covered half my body in fake blood.
Someday I'll be famous. And then I'll get to meet Jimmy Fallon and Dax Shepherd.
My friends call me Bleeck.
