I thought about what that meant and if it was true. I thought about writing this. I thought about a male friend of mine who recently told me that I am one of the most contained women he’s ever met–that I seem to do well on my own and take charge of my own happiness. (true)

I thought about reading how men like to be Knights and serve women and wonder if I am denying them the chance. (I hope not!)

I decided perhaps I’m not very objective so I asked my teenage daughter what she thought. I asked her if I seemed like I don’t need anyone.

She said, “I don’t think that’s true. I think you ask for help when you need it. I think you allow yourself to be vulnerable. I don’t think you need anyone to be happy because you’re strong and independent but I think it’s good for you to have someone to love and who loves you.”

I’ve done so much writing about love and boundaries and still feel like I don’t have that many answers.  Perhaps we all just need different things.  I don’t know.  I do know that I know very few people who seem to genuinely love and care for one another. What I see so often is people coping, projecting and pretending.

I’m not terribly good at trusting people.  I’m trying but it’s hard with the models I see around me.  Personally, I don’t think the expression of need is a litmus test of love.  I think love is about kindness and truth.  It’s about giving what you have to give and learning to accept what others want to give.

My mom seemed really proud that my brothers had expressed how much they needed her in their Mother’s Day cards.  It’s true that I didn’t say that.  I said I loved her and appreciated her loving support because that’s what’s true.  I don’t need her love.  I appreciate it.

Is that a difference between daughters and sons?  I see a lot of women raising their daughters to be self-sufficient and a lot of women still wiping their son’s asses either figuratively or metaphorically.  Is it because they are afraid of being alone and not needed?  Are they afraid to say “no” to their sons in hopes that they will be cared for by them in their old age?  I don’t really have any easy answers but it this topic does bring up a lot of questions.

I don’t want my relationships framed around need.  Romantically, I don’t want to just hook up with someone to fulfill a need.  I want deep, meaningful commitment.  I don’t want to be the replacement for someone’s mommy and I’m (no longer) looking for a daddy.

That leaves kindness, truth, fun, laughter, adventure, care and synergy (and sex if they are a lover).  That seems a lot more interesting to me than need.

What do you think?

you said you worried about me

that i seemed like i was on a boat
heading into a storm
alone

(then you left)

it turns out the storm was you
and the rainbows
come without you

We often say yes because we want people to like us. We are afraid to say NO because we don’t want to hear NO.

Say it anyway.

In order to know what we want to say YES to, we need to learn what we need to say NO to.

Things I’ve said discovered by saying NO:

Who my real friends are.
What a good friend I can be to myself.
What I really need in life (which frankly, is very little).

The biggest thing I have learned is that if I cannot say NO to someone without them getting angry, calling me names or threatening me, I am much better off without them.

If YES is the juice of life, NO is the container we pour it in.
If YES is the fruit of life, NO is the knife we use to cut away the inedible parts.

Say it. Mean it. Own it.

Want a great way to suss out the crazy and learn how to address your own core needs? Consider reading “Emotional Bullshit” by Carl Alasko. It has changed my life.

My solo show comes to Seattle May 4th at 8:00 pm at The Rendezvous Jewelbox Theatre
Unbridled is my one-woman show about sex, love, bondage, and freedom. This hour of semi-autobiographical monologues and songs is presented in my unique “dellaluscious” style—juicy truth-talking with a good dose of humor and titillation that only a fierce and sassy single mom could deliver.

$10 General
$ 5 Students and Seniors
$12 at the door for everyone

Click here to order tickets. Note that I am picking up the tab for the service fee so it really is cheaper to pre-order. That’s right! A benefit for making a commitment (there’s a joke there somewhere).

I do hope I’ll see you so I can give you a hug and stuff.

“Look at the beautiful, green buds!” she exclaimed.

“I worry for them. It’s only February,” he replied.

Now, it’s nearly April and the leaves are unfurling and stretching to the sun.

He’s not here to see that and yet it’s happening all the same.

Faith trumps worry.

today, as we played
she said, “I didn’t know your ribs were ticklish.”
i thought of how
i know where you like
to be kissed
and stroked

but i didn’t know all
your soft places
and you didn’t know mine
(hurt happened)

as i started crying,
she said, “maybe this isn’t a good time for the tickle game.”
and i realized
sometimes
it takes a long to know someone’s soft places
(that’s what makes love worth it)

“Each small task
of everyday life
is part of the
total harmony
of the Universe.”

~Saint Therese of Lisieux

Having been sick for a week means that my center of operation has been bed. It’s almost as though nothing in the outside world is real save the birds I hear outside my window and the voice on the other end of the phone at night.

I am bored and restless. Mystery zits are on my face and my hair is a pile of twigs. My muscles ache not only from the flu but from all the laying around. I feel like a slug. A healing slug, but a slug nonetheless.

Today, after being served a delicious omelet in bed by my 9 year-old, I invite her to come in and hang out. She brings a huge stack of books with her. She wants to read a couple of them to me and I tell her to wait until I’m done with the script my director sent me.

“Okay, fine,” she says, disgruntled. She asks what the script is about. I tell her it’s about a woman who abandons her daughter, leaving her with her grandmother. The grandmother has a stroke and eventually dies and they are reunited. She looks into my eyes and says, “You would never do that, would you mom? You would never abandon us, right?”

“Of course not. I love you too much.”

We settle in and I pull her into my arms and smell her hair as I always do. I comment on her hair being greasy and her needing a shower. “Tomorrow,” she says. (She often says that.)

She begins to read The Sleep Book by Dr. Seuss quietly to herself as I read, my hand resting on her head. She interrupts my reading to show me a picture of a machine that knows when you’re asleep or awake. I tell her it looks like it’s made of noodles. It apparently peers into your house at night when you’re sleeping. We agree that that is kind of creepy and that we don’t like the idea of something spying on us at night. She begins to sing, “He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake, he knows if you’ve been bad or good so be good for goodness’ sake.”

She says, “What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?”

“Fuck Santa,” I say then make a comment about how that’s probably not a “good mom” thing to say.

She puts her arm around me like she’s going to hug me sweetly saying, “Oh, mom,” then shoves her fingers into my armpits and begins to tickle me viciously. I tickle her back rather mercilessly.

We laugh uproariously and mangle the script, kicking the books all over the bed.

She leans over and whispers, “Santa’s not real,” into my ear.

“I know,” I reply and we both smile at each other with mischief and delight.

***

My director is challenging me to be more in my everyday moments and to notice details of my own life for the sake of my writing. I’m realizing that as I do, I sink deeper into my own truth and into a new acceptance of who I am and how I’m wired. I realize that not being all that conventional is not a curse and not really a blessing. It just is what it is.

That’s enough for today.

hiding a stuffed animal
for your cat to find
in the night
to present the kill the next day

melting into the soft sweetness
of midnight phone calls
and intimacy
in separate beds

naked boy running
through morning stillness
disturbed
by the smell of flowers

the itch
the need
to taste blood
to destroy something
while tucked under polite covers

you pushing deep inside of me
leaving bruises
tucking me in sweetly
or letting me fall asleep
in your arms

(matching pillows confuse me more than this)

I haven’t been this sick or this exhausted in a long time. A week ago today, I was caring for my sick daughter and here I am, laying here quietly, letting my daughter be cared for by another and surrendering to this virus that seems to have knocked me down and will let me back up when it decides to.

I hate it. Hate being weak. I have never, ever been good at feeling weak or needy.

As I lay here in the muted, afternoon light, there is a softness to everything.

Rain falls softly and the birds seem to be singing quietly so as not to disturb my peace. A plane flies overhead and seems more quiet than usual.

I allow myself to melt into this softness like I would into a lover’s arms. There is a sacredness to it, as though I am being gently rocked back and forth by unseen hands.

Beautiful. Lyrical. Soft.

A wave of tears comes over me and I realize that saying, “I love you,” has never been hard for me. I love easily.

“I need you,” on the other hand, is a very different matter. I am not sure if I have ever uttered those words to another person. I wrote it in a monologue once but I don’t think I’ve ever said it.

To need is to let my guard down. To need somehow seems like admitting defeat which I know is absurd but still feels true. I remember a time when my I asked my daughter why I was attracting so many needy people into my life. Her response?

To show you that it’s okay for you to be needy sometimes.

Uh. Yeah.

Just after having this epiphany, my eldest daughter knocks on my door and says, “Just thought I’d check on you and see if you needed anything.”

I tell her I just need to hear a report from the outside world.

I don’t tell her I need her though.

I guess I still have some work to do.

Then that quiet space in between thoughts and words
where he says, “yeah…”

Then exhales with a stretch.

(that)