Emma and Loki

And I am feeling lost. Staring at my computer. The words have left, taken their ball and gone home. And here I sit and stare. This is nothing new. All writers know this. And I feel the push, the drive to create something brilliant and insecurity that simmers under the surface saying, “it will be crap.” And so I sit and stare. Lost in my circle. Create. I can’t. I have to. It’ll suck. Time slowly ticking. And I sit and stare. All the characters that I danced with yesterday, even during breakfast, have moved on with their day, gone to their jobs, met their lovers at seedy hotels, boarded airplanes for paradise. And I sit and stare. Tick tock goes the clock. Eyes fade and the screen is a blur of white like staring into the sun. Trying to fight time, like a boxer trying to get the last punch in before the bell. Trying to find inspiration, like an artist sees the world. I look over my outlines. Over my ideas. My list of projects. And nothing comes. Time has stopped like watching the clock on the last of day of school before summer vacation. Eternity has set in. My mind wanders like a leaf in the wind. My creative gone and forgotten like a prisoner on death row.  So, I sit and stare. Force myself to wait. To be patient. Like a child waiting for mailman. Like a dog waiting for dinner. Like people waiting for the bus. I know it will come. I just have to wait. Patiently.


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


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!

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.

I am a Superhero

Write yourself alive prompt:  A day in life of you and you are a superhero.

I am a superhero. No, really I am. I look like everyone else. But I am special. We are all special, however, I am just a bit more special. I am like Selina Kyle and Jean Grey, with a touch of Adalind Shade. What? You don’t read comics or watch Grimm? Never heard of Batman or X Men. Don’t blame you, not a bat fan either. But come on the X Men? Okay, okay. Let me break it down for you. It goes like this. I care about the less fortunate. I am modern day Robin Hood. However, I also like pretty shiny things. The more sparkle the better. Can you blame me? I am also quiet and unassuming. Slinking around unnoticed, unless I want something, then I can be sweet and loving. Like your cat, meow. Anyways, I can also manipulate objects and people with my mind. Okay, I can move objects with my mind and read people’s minds. Pretty cool, huh? It comes in handy and helps in my line of work, being a superhero and all. I am also pretty goddamn strong, even though I don’t look like it. I wouldn’t mess with me, you know the old saying, “dynamite comes in small packages.” Oh, yeah, the questions. Silly me, now. What does a typical day look like for me? Just the usually stuff helping people solve their problems and better themselves. Making sure the bad guys don’t win. Typical superhero type stuff. My cover? Well me. No one knows my secret, except you now. But it’s all good. I trust you. Maybe. My kryptonite? Now, why would I tell you that? You’ve got to be kiddy, right? Tell you and you could be my down fall. I think if you read between the lines you can figure it out. But you’ll have to find me first to use it against me and why would you? I’m on your side. Fighting the good fight. Anyways, I have people save. Take care lovelies.

Now, what’s your super power?


The short love story

Writing day 17- write a love story in 5-6 sentences


Sun shines bright almost blinding. Dew kissing each blade of grass, each petal. Awakening to the morning. Petals open to great the sun. Dancing together each day until the moon comes and the sun goes away.

Day 2- Write Yourself Alive- Today

Today’s prompt is to write a day in my life.  It ended up half poem and half story.


old king cole

It’s Friday

Mercury is in retro grade

The day has


And flowed

I struggle to evolve

To grow

And change

As I step into a new role

Shedding my skin

Fear creeps in


Again and again

Sometimes as self doubt

Sometimes as defeating exclamations of impossibilities

I refocus

Remind myself of my dreams

Wait? What are they again?

Too big? Too small?

Insecurity wallows

My soul is screaming

Its shouting

Closing my eyes

Taking a deep breath

Walk with the fear

Embrace it

Listen to it

Baby it

Like two children ready to go outside

One excited and raring to go

The other timid, withdrawn and scared

The excited child takes the hand of the scared child

“Don’t worry. I’ll wait. I’ll listen. We can go at your pace. I know. It’s a big world. It’s vast and full of promise.” Seeing the fear in the scared child’s eyes. “Yes, it is scary too. We might fall. We might get hurt. But we will never know unless we leave the house. Don’t worry. We can always come back inside. Where you feel safe. I promise I will listen to you. Walk with you. Comfort you. If you promise you will try with me. Go with me. Together. We can conquer the world.”

The scared child looks into the eyes of the excited child. How can she say no. How can she resist the passion, the drive, the ambition in the excited child? She wants to say no. Return to her room, hid under the covers. But deep down inside, she knows she needs to move forward. Slowly. Step by step. And yes, when they fall and they will. Together they will get up and keep moving forward.

She reaches out her hand. Grasps the hand of the excited child tightly, never wanting to let go. The excited child smiles, ready to run when she feels the tug and together they walk out the door.

My fear and my ambition together, moving forward. Working through issues. Defining myself and my passions. Ready to jump but still standing at the edge. This was my day.

San Diego, CA

Bun Bun, Teddy and a Cat (a haunted winter tale)


A happy family starting over. Buried secrets left behind. Pretending nothing ever happened. Tape over broken hearts and ripped pictures. Fake smiles hiding the scars left. Doubt still lingers, provides a layer of protect from more unbearable hurt. Crimes perpetrated against the relationship. Guilty on both ends. And here they sit, unpacking and pretending that life is wonderful. Snow falling, covering dead grass. Wind blows. Cold haunt the air.
Carrying the heavy box to one of her children’s bedroom, she stepped on yet another toy. Looking frustrated at her husband.
“They are everywhere! What do they do, dump the box, pick up a couple toys, play with them and run off to another distraction.”
“Claire, honey, they’re kids. This is hard for them. For us. No one likes moving.”
He bent over and picked up the old ratty stuffed cat, it was faded and dingy. It might have once been black, but was now a soulless grey. Looked like it had been loved by many children until it was forgotten and discarded.
“Ben, that thing is ugly. Where did they find it?” We should throw it away.”
“No. It reminds me of a toy I had as a child. Maybe it’s mine and I gave it to one of the kids. I don’t remember having it. Maybe my folks found it and gave to the kids.”
“It’s ugly and creepy. It’s old. We should toss it.”
A whirlwind of activity swept into the room. “Hey, kitty! Where did you find him? “ Asked their son, taking the stuffed animal from his dad and placing it on his bed. The cat seemed to smile as he sat perched at the head of the bed.
Ben looked at the time. “Okay kids time to go, grab your stuff.”
Ben kissed his wife’s head. “Honey, it’s stress, new city, new job, new home, the holidays. Relax.”
She bundled up her family. All three children. Gloves. Mittens. Hats. Scarves. Boots. The tiniest child clutching an old beat up stuffed rabbit.
“Where did you find this ragged old thing?” “These ugly old stuffed animals are everywhere today.” She thought to herself as she tried to pry it from her child’s hands.
“No, it’s mine! She’s my friend!” Emma screamed.
Ben stepped in between Claire and Emma, who was clutching the pink ragged bunny, as if letting go of the animal would cause it to fall to its death.
“Let her take it to school. Let her be.” Ben said with an enduring smiling and a hint fear in his eyes.
Claire rolled her eyes. “Fine.” “Never right. Never having a say. Nothing has changed.” She thought to herself.
She closed the door behind her family. She could hear them talking and laughing down the hall. She leaned against the door. She was finally alone. Left to herself. Her misery. Her all consuming thoughts. They ate at her. Fed off her insecurities. Keep busy was the only thing she could do.
As she started to clean. She found another old worn out stuffed animal, a bear this time. “Three for three.” She thought. “Where do they find these things? Probably his ever meddling parents. Probably from the old country. Blah Blah Blah. Well, I know it didn’t come from one of his many business trips, too old, too ugly. Ugh. We are over this. It’s over. We’ve done therapy.” She threw the bear in the trash. “bastard.”
She flopped onto the couch. Looking through her contacts. She stopped at mom’s work. Click send message to. “Hey, it’s me. Don’t know if I can do this anymore.”
“I miss you to. Where is Ben?”
“work, you.”
“Assignment in London. Just say the word.”
“I can’t. He doesn’t know. After all he’s done. I still didn’t go through with it. With you. Do you hate me?”
“I know. I should have. I wish I had. He deserves it.”
“Your mother, your sister, your best friend. The people you were closest to. He convinced them to turn on you.”
“thank you for not turning.”
“luv u”
Setting the phone next to her and looking up. The bear was perched onto the coffee table. Staring at her.
“I thought I threw you away. Creepy old thing.” Grabbing the bear and this time stuffing him to the bottom of the trash.
“A hot bath. That’s what I need.” She thought. She soaked forever. Not wanting to get out. To face her life. Finally as the water began to chill. She got out. Went out to bedroom and there on the bed was the bear.
She jumped. She knew she had thrown it away. Quickly she dressed. Grabbed the bear. Buried to the bottom of the trash. Gathered the trash bag, down the hall, down the 20 floors and out to the dumpster. Shaking her head. Trying to release the feelings that were eating at her, trying to consume her.
Back in the warmth of the penthouse she found her way to the medicine cabinet. She opened the pill bottle. Anything to numb herself. She laid down on the bed. She could hear her phone. Looking at it, it read Ben: love you honey. Hope you are having a wonderful day.
She threw the phone to the floor. “I bet you do.” She traced the scars on her wrists. He caused this. Forced it. The phone chirped again. There next to the phone was the bear.
“God damn it!” She jumped up. “I am not doing this again!” She grabbed the bear. Took him into the kitchen, grabbed a pair of scissors. Stabbing the bear, ripping out his stuffing. Cutting off his limbs. One by one. “Leave me the fuck alone!” She was breathless by the time she finished killing the already dead stuffed bear. She slumped onto the floor.
“Honey, were home!” Ben and his three children rushed into the house. “I think we are in for one hell of a storm. Might be home bound. Stopped by the store, just in case. Honey?”
“Daddy, can be build a snowman?”
“Of course.”
“Where’s mom?” Henry said.
“probably sleeping” Nora said angrily.
“Come on now kids. We’ve been through a lot. She’s getting better.”
“No she’s not!” Nora protested.
Emma pulled on Nora, showing her the pink bunny.”
Nora sighed and smiled.
“What’s that about?” Ben asked.
“Nothing. A story nana told us.”
“Really? She’s been dead for how long now?”
“Yeah, she said you wouldn’t believe. Forgotten your roots.” Nora said staring at her dad.
“I’m sorry honey. I believe you. What did your great grandma tell you?”
“She said that the spirits of family members can live in toys. That they can come back and protect you. She said spirits can live in toys to protect children.”
“And Emma believes that nana is in the bunny?”
“Where did those animals come from anyways, I don’t remember buying them. Yet, they seem so familiar.”
“Losing it dad.” Henry said laughing.
“Alright Nora will you please watch Emma and Henry can you call for pizza or something.”
“Chinese.” The two girls said from the living room.
“Okay, Chinese.”
Ben knew where to find Claire. He knew Nora was right. Claire was curled up in the bed.
“That fucking bear. He is everywhere.”
She was sobbing uncontrollably.
“No, not again.” He prayed.
“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.”He held her tight against himself. Holding back the tears. “Please god, not again.”
Emma, the youngest child, stood in the door way. Holding the pink bunny.
“Those fucking toys.” Claire lunged for Emma, ripping the toy from her arms and throwing it into the trash.
Emma screamed, breathless cries.
“Honey, honey.”Ben rushed to Emma, trying to comfort the child.
“Henry, Henry!”
“Yeah dad?”
“I thought I asked you kids to watch your sister. Take her.”
“Bun Bun!” Emma screamed.
“He’s okay. Just go watch tv.” Henry guided Emma by her shoulders. Doing his best to comfort his sister, sadness and fear reflected in his eyes.
“Not again,” Ben prayed.
Ben returned to Claire.
“It’s just a toy, honey.”
“No it’s not. It’s evil. The fucking bear followed me all day. Those toys are everywhere.”
“Of course, we have children.”
“No! That bear, like the bunny followed me all day.”
“It’s okay”, he held his wife. Snow falling against twilight sky.
“Lay down, I’ll get you some tea, okay.”
She nodded, still sobbing. “Protect me. Keep me safe. NO toys.”
“No toys. I promise.” He said leaving the room.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Ben grabbed the bunny from the trash before leaving the room.
“Make sure you kill it. Throw it away in pieces in the trash.” Claire called from the bed.
Ben stood in the kitchen watching the sun set and the snow fall and the wind swirl. Holding the pink bunny rabbit. Setting it on the counter.
Nora watching from the doorway. Henry and Emma watching Nora.
Not again. Silence fell upon the penthouse apartment, like snow falling upon the ground.

Ben returned to the room with sleeping pill laced tea. He wanted to just give her the pills but he couldn’t risk the violence. They had been through enough. She drank the tea. Fell asleep. Ben tended to his children. The night moved in unsettling silence, everyone awaiting the enviable storm.

The children were tucked into bed. Quieted and reassured. Emma clutching the old and ratty pink bunny.

Ben laid in bed with his wife, he held her. Not again.

Claire awoke to an empty house. She was groggy. She was pissed but too tired to feel it. “Fucking prick, lacing my tea. Thinks I’m crazy.” Tracing the scars on her wrists. She stumbled into the bathroom. There sitting on the counter was the cat, bunny and bear.
“What the fuck! I killed you,” she said clutching the bear. Glaring at the bunny. “Ben was suppose to kill her.” Staring at the cat. “I don’t know where you came from. But your gone today.”
Stillness fell upon the penthouse. A hush. Snow piled up outside. Cold layered the day.
It was dark when Ben and the children arrived home.
“We are fine mom. Yeah, wish nana hadn’t told the kids that story. I know it’s old country stuff. I should believe. Watch what I say. Kids need protectors. Okay. I get it. I love you too. We just got home. Call you later.” He set the phone down. “Claire! Claire honey, we’re home.”
Nora, Henry and Emma looked at the dad. They had been here before. Emma clutching bunny. Grey cat sitting on the couch next to Henry.
Ben tried to give his children a reassuring look.
“Henry, why don’t you find something to watch.”
The three children sat on the couch in anticipation.
Emma whispering to Nora. “Bunny says mommy’s gone. They needed to protect us. Keep her save. Nana said.”
Nora kissed her sister’s head. “Okay, let’s watch some tv, alright?”
Henry looked at his sister, “Emma’s right. We are better without mom. She’d do it again.”
Nora covered Emma’s ears, “Shut up. We aren’t going to talk about that. She doesn’t remember. I don’t want to remember.”
Emma shook her head. “Mom tried to kill us. Went away. Got better. But didn’t. That’s why the they are here. To fix it.”
Nora glared at Henry. The three sat on the couch watching the television, trying to pretend none of this was real.
Ben searched the house. No Claire. No note. No blood. No nothing. His mind wandered. “Oh please. Not again.” He went to his phone. Called her sister. Nothing. Called Linda. Nothing. Claire’s Mom. Nothing. Her Brother. Nothing. Anxiety building. Flurries increasing. She’s just gone off for awhile. It’s okay.” He told himself. He hated himself for the rush of relief her absence caused.
“Looks like mommy, went out. What should we do for dinner?” Ben said, trying to seem calm and relaxed, as if nothing was wrong.
Emma smiled. “Told you.” Henry and Nora just looked at each other. Everything felt lighter. Outside snow had stopped.
“Sounds good to me.” Ben said.
The family sat around the table piled with various delivered foods. Laughing and talking. As if nothing had happened. Bunny sitting next to Emma smiling.
“Ok, kids. Bedtime. Brush your teeth and off you go.” Emma grabbed bunny. The children ran off to their rooms. Henry smiling at the grey cat still perched at the head of his bed.
Ben sat on the couch. There sitting next to him was the ragged old stuffed bear. “Hey old friend. How are you? Do you by chance know where my wife is?”
Bear just sat there. Staring. Stitches on his arms.
Nora came into the room. “There’s my bear. Thanks dad. Love you.”

The Stranger (Halloween Version) Part 1 in a series of spooky bedtime tales

Before I dive into my story. I wrote this one for my dear friend Keith.The creature in this story is his favorite.
Why had I waited til the last minute to get my Halloween costume. It’s not like I didn’t know it wasn’t coming or something. No I had procrastinated and now I had only myself to blame. Even more troubling was that I had accepted an invitation to a Halloween Masquerade Ball with a Victorian theme. I had already called all the costume rental stores, nothing. Been all over town and now taking a deep breath was about to enter the overcrowded Halloween Superstore. My last chance. I was hopeful, I had called and the nice man on the phone said that he thought they might have one in stock. Fingers crossed I pushed and shoved my way through the swarm of people. I tried to look over the sea of heads to see I could identify an employee it was hopeless. I was trapped with hundreds of other last minute Halloween costume go getters.
I made my way down each aisle, scanning the remains. While hands reached in and snatched the odds and ends.
“May I help you?” Came a soft, yet masculine voice from behind me. I whirled around. To be face to face with a pair of deep green eyes, that sparkled like stars or diamonds. How cliche, I know. I was caught of guard by the beauty of his eyes and I found myself stammering for words. So very unlike me. “Um, yeah. Yes.” Trying to find my lost confidence. “I called and talk to someone about a Victorian costume. He said you might have one left.” Even though my expectations where not very high. It is after all a Halloween superstore with cheaply made costumes to last maybe the night.
He smiled at me. “Oh yes. I spoke with you. You are in luck. I believe I saw one in the back this morning.” He grabbed my hand to lead me through he dense crowd of panicked last minute shoppers. His skin was surprisingly soft and ice cold.
The warehouse was huge, dark and ominous. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up and sent shivers down my spine. The sooner I was out of here the better. Once alone I noticed his strong physique. He seemed out of place for a Halloween store clerk. He looked more like someone I find in a mosh pit, the gym or a tattoo parlor, not here.
“Wait here,” He said softly. Something about him made my pulse race. I was finding myself deeply attracted to this mysterious stranger. I stood uncomfortably and awkwardly in the dimly lit warehouse waiting anxiously. I felt breath on the back of neck, as if someone or something was sniffing me. I felt a lump in my throat. My heart was racing and my body froze. I was unable to move, paralyzed. My mind raced, who or what was behind me. Trying to calm myself. It’s just my imagination I kept telling myself. Finally I spun around. There he was. “Will this work?” Pushing his blondish brown hair out of his eyes.  He held up the dress.  It looked so authentic, as if it come from the era. I almost fainted, it was perfect. I was feeling more at ease. I had my dress, now all I had to do was pay, hopefully it won’t cost me an arm and leg. Lesson learned, don’t wait to the last minute. I took the dress from his arms. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” That’s when I felt his teeth penetrating my neck. It all happened too fast, I never saw it coming. I melted. Every muscle in my body relaxed and I feel into his embrace.
Of course, I was fashionably late for the party. No make-up needed. I was going to be forever paler than I already was. The ballroom was filled with people dressed to the nines in costumes. It was like a scene out of a movie.
“This dress belonged to one of wives, I don’t remember which one. I’ve been around a long time.” He whispered in my ear. “I knew when you called that you were the one.” He smiled at me. Moving his arm towards me to take a hold of. “Ready my love?” I took a hold of his arm. “The adventures we will share. I cannot wait to show you the world. “ We start to enter the grand ball room, “And which lucky person shall we call dinner tonight?” He says winking at me.