New Year’s Wish


Who better than a writer to create a poetic inspirational New Year wish. I couldn’t have said it better, so in the words of Neil Gaiman, I wish you in the coming year…

“Be kind to yourself in the year ahead.

Remember to forgive yourself, and to forgive others. It’s too easy to be outraged these days, so much harder to change things, to reach out, to understand.

Try to make your time matter: minutes and hours and days and weeks can blow away like dead leaves, with nothing to show but time you spent not quite ever doing things, or time you spent waiting to begin.

Meet new people and talk to them. Make new things and show them to people who might enjoy them.

Hug too much. Smile too much. And, when you can, love.”



Oh how I have neglected my blog.

My writing.

I allowed life to stiffen my creativity.  No, I use life as an excuse.

As the new year is fast upon me, I am dedicating myself to write more.  To share more on my blog.  To get back to being creative!

How about you?

Been in a fog

I have wanted to write

Longed to write

So many ideas flowing

and then, I sit down and nothing

feverishly I reach for my notes

and nothing

go to the writing books


inspiration lost


and fog sets in

I sit and wait

sit and try

and the words feel forced

feel contrived and inauthentic

My head swimming in a fog

No end in sight

I set deadlines

They go unmet

I know what I want to write about

And yet I cannot seem to find….

I am blind

I am lost

I am tired

And I long to create

To write

My characters cry to me

Visit my dreams

Talk to me

And yet when I sit to write

They are lost in the fog

So I set intentions

And they go unanswered

I have given up trying to force the words

The fog will lift

And when it does

I will be waiting

Sitting at my computer

And the words

The people

The places

Will find me

And I will write my story

It’s in there

It is the seed

Waiting to grow

Waiting for the spring

Waiting for the sun

So I wait

Any day now the fog will lift

I can see the sun peeking through

Ode to a friend


I have this friend, she was like my sister

From lifetimes ago

Our relationship dwindled

Miles and people separated us

And still to this day

I love her

I miss her

Sick and twisted

Right or wrong

We were in it together

Until I realized that I could no longer feed my sickness

Feed her sickness

Our sicknesses fed off of each other

Poisoning us and everything around us

And despite everything

The hurt feelings

The broken hearts

The pain

I still love her

I still miss her

Because she stepped into my darkness

And I her’s

And we still loved each other

Now forced conversation

Walls built high

A longing to go there

Be there

And a knowing of the disaster it brings

And in my heart

I long to see her happy

To see her at peace

I have found my peace


I have found my happiness without her

Something I never imagined

Hopefully someday

She can join me

Beat her demons

Step into the light

And when I see her

And briefly talk with her

A piece of me



To step back into the darkness

To be swept away by the crazy

To be in that place again

And so I extend my hand

Invite her in

Not knowing will I stay sane or go crazy again


A letter to the depressed, sad and suicidal

There are times in your life where you are going to feel like you just can’t take anymore. That you just want to stop the pain. End it because it feels like it is never going to stop, that it is just going to keep coming. The voices in your head that tell you- You are worthless, that no cares, that the world would be better off without, that you deserve your pain, and on and on. Those voices are wrong. You are worthy, you are beautiful, I care, the world needs you (really it does, there is only one you who does what you do) you matter, your life matters, you will be missed, even if right now you feel desperately alone, you are not, people love you wither you realize it or not. You just have to make it through this moment, this moment that feels like you are dropped below rock bottom. This moment that you feel the weight of the world suffocating you. This moment is going to pass, that is the beautiful thing about time, it passes and you my friend just have to make it through this moment.

My friend, I may not know you and that really doesn’t matter. Because I have loved people that feel that way you do. And I want to remind you that you matter! That you are loved! You are worthy! And you can make it through this!

To help ease these moments where you feel like you just can’t go on you can try the following:

Stop!  Yes, stop!  Silence the voices, if only for a minute.  Focus on your breath.  Breathe in and and out slowly.  Feel the air enter and exit your body.  Imagine that this air is nurturing and loving you in all the ways you need right now.

Turn on your favorite music, the music that makes you smile and makes you move. Feel the music in your bones. Let it sweep you away. Dance!

Grab pen and paper, crayons, markers and start writing all the thing that make you matter, all the compliments you’ve received, don’t censor yourself. Write all the things that make you great, all the things you like about you, others like about you. Let them flow. Not feeling them? They are there, dig! Don’t fight them or stop them, don’t argue with them. Let these words speak to your heart about how truly awesome you are.

Make your favorite soul comforting food and savor it.

Call a friend.

Call the suicide hot line-

or chat with someone at

Watch your favorite show.

Take a bath.

And if still you struggle find a therapist, call 911 or go to the hospital because you matter!


As some of you know, when I am not writing, I am a therapist.  I have been contemplating changing my about page on my therapist site, let me know what you think.  Thank you!

You want know I can relate. That I get it, I understand you and your story. Everyone’s stories are different. And at anytime you have the power to rewrite it, how exciting is that? So, here is my story. I hope it helps you on your journey.

I have been sensitive to others moods and emotions since for as long as I can remember. My mom says that she knew ever since I was small I would be a therapist. I had a knack for it. For what felt like forever I confused my feelings with others feelings. I readily took responsibility for others emotions, actions, emotings and projections. Adding to that unpredictable parental moods, created an anxious child. Anxiety would be become a constant companion, for several years.

As a really small child I talked to dead people, mainly my paternal grandmother who haunted my childhood house. I also had an extremely vivid and wild imagination. I loved creating and playing pretend. As I grew, I learned talking to dead people, knowing things in a psychic manner, and being highly imaginative wasn’t very cool, and thus I suppressed it.

My parents did the best they could with the skills they had. However, their childhoods’ were tragic and dysfunctional. Interesting how the wounds of parents transfer to their children.

After my parental grandfather died when I was in the fourth grade, I began my relationship with depression.

When I was 12, my parents divorced after 20 years of marriage. Unable to cope and struggling with depression, anxiety, and puberty, I turned to food to deal. I went from 5 foot nothing and 90 pounds to close to 200 pounds. Towards the end of high school, my eating disorder morphed from binge eating to bulimia and from bulimia to a mix of anorexia, bulimia and over exercising. The only relief I gave myself was pregnancy. I loved being pregnant, it gave me an excuse to eat, not to exercise, not to starve and not to purge. When my daughter was two years old, my eating disorder once again was in full swing, I went through cycles of binging, purging, starving and exercised on average 2 hours a day. Until, one day, I was purging and started to choke. I couldn’t breathe and all I keep thinking was my daughter is in the other room, she is going to find me dead and grow up motherless. I knew at that moment things had to change. Thus began my road to recovery.

Even though, I wasn’t engaging in eating disorder behaviors, I still struggled with self esteem and coping with emotions. I turned to others to dictate how I should be. Entering bad relationship after bad relationship. Finally it all came crashing down, when my dad died, I could no longer pretend I was happy. Again, I sought help. Trying to rebuild my life and who I wanted to be.

I have seen several therapists. Each providing me with massive healing, tools and self awareness. However, I still felt something was missing. I began to work with a shaman and other alternative therapies and found that my healing expanded and I gained insight into me on a soul level. I rediscovered who I was on a soul level! I was able to rekindle gifts, release massive guilt, resentment and anger, and most importantly develop love for myself. Leading me to where I am today, as a therapist. I am a registered psychotherapist with certificates in Child and Adolescent Counseling and Transpersonal Counseling. I have my MA in counseling from Regis. I love incorporating several modalities in therapy. From tradition talk therapy to shamanism, to intuition to art and play. I believe healing is a journey, an adventure just like life. Therapy is expanding and transformative.

I am here because I care. Because I want you to love yourself and feel amazing. I want for you to feel wonderful in your skin, speak from your heart, and shine! To transform your life, to heal and rediscover you, on a soul level. That is why I became I therapist because I love people and I want to help people just like you heal and rediscover your awesomeness!

Rambling failure and flight

The flux of energy. The desire to create. To do nothing. It ebbs and flows. Leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed. I am not sure what to do. I feel like I have to do something. Create something. Get clients. So I sit and stare at my screen. Check social media. I want to create something. I scroll through my writing. I am uninspired and stuck. Feel like I am sinking. Slowly without a life vest or anyone to rescue me. I feel like time it ticking. Ticking away in my ear. The voices scream in my head. Create something. Make something. Sell something. Get off your ass, get going. Share your ideas with the world. Stop procrastinating. Stop pretending. Stop stalling. Don’t they see that I am empty? That I have lost my voice. My ideas. My will to share. My everything. Time is tickling. Ego is counting. What do I have to show? Nothing. What am I? Nothing. Get clients. Network. Market. I have done so much of that that I want to give up. Feel like I have sold my soul. And still no movement. Consult my intuition. My cards. Change is coming. Release. If I release anymore, I am afraid I will be nothing. I will disappear. Maybe I have to disappear to find myself? Maybe I have to disappear, to die, to be reborn? I am willing. I am ready. I am stuck. Nothingness is invading my body, my soul. I am slipping away into depression. Into the blackness. The ideas that I cannot, will not achieve my dreams, that I am unworthy. Who wants to listen to me anyways? The spark trying to stay lit. The spark trying to grow brighter. The ideas waiting to be birthed. And I stop. I sit. I distract. I pretend. I ignore. I am lost. I am fading. I am drowning. I am drifting. Why can’t I? Why won’t I? My ideas stop and I die. My ideas fade and I disappear. Where am I going? Who am I? Where is the light? Trust they say. Ride the waves. Pray. Take space. Solitude. Serenity. Surrender. Why do I fight this? Why do I challenge? I release I release I release. Burn it in the fire. Give it to the wind. Let the waves wash over me. Feel the sunshine. Bask in life’s glory. Look at the stars. Sit in nature. Pick myself up. Collect my thoughts, pick of the pieces, feed the fire and start over again.

Waiting- part of the very short story series

Her hands were sweaty. Her heart raced. Her stomach turned its empty contents. Her thoughts spun a million magnificent webs, none of which reflected rays of reality. There she sat, staring out the window. Questioning herself. Doubting herself. Fingers tapping the table. Legs bouncing. Watching the people rush by. Wishing at this moment, she could be one of them. One of the million people hurrying elsewhere. She wanted to be anywhere but here. She felt sick. Her empty stomach revolting. The feelings crawling up into her throat. Was the bathroom close? Swallowing it all down. Waiting and wishing she had said no.

Layer- another very short story (part of a series)

Not sure where I am going with these series of very short story writing and if I can somehow weave them together.  Guess we will see.

Layer upon layer. Hidden beneath her protective armor. Looking down. Staring at the ground. Never looking up. Never making eye contact. Avoiding. Shrinking. Slowly fading into the scenery. The thousand other faces bleeding together. Caught in the tide of society, the emotionless waves of people moving. Oblivious. Lost souls. Together they were nothing. Invisible just how she longed to be.

whisper part 2

It was like a long lost friend. This whisper. The whisper that promised her the world. How could she refuse. The years of suffering. The years of pain. It promised her the one thing she couldn’t achieve on her own. Relief. She dreamt of relief. Contemplated suicide. A way out. She hated herself for being too weak to take easy way out. She lived with her demons. They never left her. And now, there was a whisper of hope. An escape. Anything to get away from the way she felt.

Tired of numbing the pain. Hiding from it was futile. It always caught her.