my life. no apologies.

i remember watching oprah everyday back in the eighties, her hair larger and fluffier than any other's. beautiful. i liked her low voice, her no-nonsense warmth, and her quick-to-laugh-at-herself trait. i don't recall the specific of one show, i only have a vivid recollection of hearing her saying she'd been molested. and how it took her years to understand that it wasn't her fault, that it wasn't her shame to carry, and so on. i didn't hear the rest. i couldn't imagine having the confidence to say the things she was saying. it had never occurred to me to say my nightmares aloud, let alone share the facts with total strangers or an audience of fans. in that moment, in that ice-cold, bone chilling moment of shame-recognition, the securing thought fleeted through my mind: "i'll never tell anyone." and with the promise to myself to lock away the all-too-clear memories, i was able to swallow my spoonful of marshmallow fluff.

fast forward to counseling, psychotherapy, more therapy, and some group therapy, and some more.... and i have no shame in admitting that i was molested for many years during my childhood. boy, girl, relative, babysitter, the laundry list goes on and on. it has taken me f*ckin' years to treasure my beautiful body and know it as something other than everyone's angry, lonely playground. and i feel so brave and loving sharing this. cuz what if some young kid out there is reading this blog, and they've promised themselves to carry the toxic burden of sexual secrets for others' as well? o's healing aloud helped me, and perhaps me healing aloud, will help another. far be it from me to allow my

ego

to prevent me from living my spiritual life to its fullest. and i believe i can only live my spiritual life to its fullest when i am all of me, all the time, connecting to others who are all of them as much as they can be.

and the truth is, this isn't the blog of a perfect person. nor is this the blog of a person who pretends to be perfect, or even attempts to be perfect. (okay, sometimes, i try to be perfect. i fail each time. except with baking cookies. i digress.) yes, my wife is super famous, but i really still want to pretend i'm li'l ol' anonymous me in here to a certain extent. i simply say, "this is my life, no apologies".

i was abused very severely in my childhood- the details at this point in life tend to be rather boring and insignificant to the plotline. boring, boring, boring. but then i had an eighth grade music teacher save my life. i spent some time inflicting my own wounds, and wrestling with my own demons too joyfully; i've spent time gazing into my soul's prism of lives, and i've spent time re-wiring my mentality, emotionality. it needed to be done. i'm in touch with some of my family, and not others. i don't trust everyone in my family. i have some friends i've known since first grade, and some i've only just met in the OBGYN office. i'm not graceful when surrounded by deceit. i fucked someone once who was in a relationship (can i plead insanity by age? i was 21.) i've only had two other long-term girlfriends, and i never cheated on them. i have good points and bad points, some of which i am aware of and some of which i am not. i've found money on some days, and anonymously paid for others' meals, on other days.



feeling home again
in my skin again
landing amongst the
roses and softest grasses

all of me
spiritual and human
rolled into one
usually

my space
my blog
my place to paint on the ceiling
my life, no apologies

just wishing us all some peace.