Sleepless in the San Fernando Valley

My current self-nurturing practice includes lying in my bed and thinking about self-nurturing activities.

If you want to concentrate, do not sit at the table while your husband cooks.

Learning to navigate the new normal without her isn’t easy.

The only thing I am in alignment with is my pity party. At least, I like the shoes.

You are not too small or too busy or too late or too old or too overwhelmed to write. Your words are worthy. Anything else is a lie.

My mom always said she was thankful, most of all, for her family. This year, her seat was empty.

The first therapist I met with wanted to discuss my childhood. I needed to grieve.

Thirty years later, a dear friend told me it was time to let it go.

As a mom of three, a ray of hope blossomed into a giant rainbow on Saturday and Los Angeles chronicled it in photos.

Because everything must be okay if you’re shopping for new frames.

I bought a birthday present at a store, started a new Netflix series, dodged an anaphylactic bee sting, and wrote…

I answer questions and go right back to writing. I am a pro at being interrupted.

On my way to Trader Joe’s, I’d share the minutiae of my life.

All of these questions sit inside my chest and I feel bloated on questions.

For my mother, I will try.

I assume November will happen and we will have Thanksgiving. But I am not making any commitments.

But, unlike writing, letting go doesn’t come easy.

Instead, I got mourning, neck pain, a pandemic, and taking care of my dog.

Having something wonderful happen to me and not being able to share it with my mother is like having an itch I cannot scratch.

During our years of partying and dating and marriage and having kids, we got older and wiser — and luckier to have each other

I wonder if she’ll remember my dad’s technique since he was a sun tea expert. But my mom died eight weeks ago.

Nothing could dim her light — not even my muted pinkish-plum suggestions.

He Sits With Me When I Look Through My ‘Mom Drawer’ and Licks My Ankle When I Cry

It is a feeling of wanting to do nothing but read, eat chocolate, and wander around my yard.