I've stood here before, on the brink, many times in my 48 years of life. Sometimes willingly with my arms open, sometimes white-knuckled with fear. But, no matter the circumstances, I have felt the same inside. Meaning when the countdown is on, and you are waiting for that day to come, the curtain to rise, the graduation, the cherry popped, the baby to be born, the train to catch, the boat to sail- that feeling bubbling inside with anticipation, the knowing that the shift is about to happen and life, as I have known it, is never to be the same again. Just to be clear, I was never the one who took on a challenge willingly with optimism and glee. I was the fearless, neurotic, judgmental one who seemed confident but was actually scared but jumped anyway. It turned out I survived. Phew.

I was never the type of woman who longed to become a mother like most women I witnessed in my youth on the pages of magazines and the silver screen. I was bombarded by young girls who "couldn't wait to become a mother." It's not that I didn't want to become one, it's just that I honestly never gave it much thought or planned my dating life around it. Sure, I played house and pretended I was the mommy to my dolls, but that's about as far as the fantasy went. The older I got, my feelings turned into "I hope I don't get pregnant!" - followed up with some ruminating moments alone pondering that maybe it was (somehow) my fault and it seemed I just didn't have any "maternal instincts."

“There, in that absolutely alabaster landscape, armed with two Bessie Smith records and a typewriter, I began to try to re-create the life that I had first known as a child and from which I had spent so many years in a fight.” - James Baldwin

I read those words in Baldwin's book, "Nobody Knows My Name," and immediately thought of my lifelong fight with my hometown of Los Angeles. I was born under wildly different circumstances than Baldwin, of course, but the sting of his words ran deep in me. I, unlike him, come from a privileged white upper-class footloose and fancy-free environment. But I, like him, always shied away from this born fact. It wasn’t until I left LA, that I realized this attitude stemmed from a deep-rooted act of defiance and by-product of growing up around a bunch of entitled rich kids who also came from famous offspring. I never wanted to associate with "that bunch." I was never inclined to wave that Nepo baby card they used so freely (well, maybe just to get into the clubs!).

Life is made up of a series of moments. Most of the time, they seem to unconsciously wash over us without realizing that we are actually in one - a moment. We are all in such a hurry of getting “somewhere”, we let them pass us by from panic, worry, dread, impatience, hormones, motherhood, and on and on that we hardly take notice they even exist at all. If you are lucky, sometimes something or someone jerks you into the present moment so you can enjoy it - not worrying about what is to come, if it will come, why hasn’t it come yet, when will it come, and will I be okay when it does. Little do we know (or consciously realize) that we are already where we are meant to be.

It's almost been a year since you've heard from me. Man, that went fast. I know that's a cliché, but shit, life goes by in a blip. It's not that I didn't want to say hello (HELLO!); it's just that I have been in a deep cave of reflection, and excavation. For the first time in my life, I have unrelentingly focused on one thing and have spent the past year unraveling it - peeling the onion to discover its treasures.

I've been thinking a lot about motherhood lately, especially how we all have personal reasons for choosing to do this, that, and the other things. And how, like climate change, it can transform wildly. Cause when I became a new mother, I had many grand ideas of how I wanted to be. This planning, of course, started when I was pregnant. I only wanted my baby to have the most natural of surroundings. So first, the nursery was set up with non-toxic products, paints, toys, and furniture. Then, I explored cloth diapers (I'm not that hardcore!), no plastic toys, and all his clothes were natural fabrics. This might have also been heavily influenced because I only craved healthy green foods while pregnant with my son. I was waiting for the pickle and ice cream thing to come, but it never did. Instead, my cravings came in the form of avocados with lime and jalapeños or toasted dark rye German bread, whole grain mustard, sharp cheddar cheese, and sauerkraut (I ate it every morning - delicious!). I also planned to have a natural birth (no drugs!) Blah blah blah blah blah.

Not that it is any of your business, but I want to tell you the story of my abortions. That is, of course, if you choose to hear them. I've had two of them. Both under wildly different circumstances and times in my life. And both I have never dwelled upon with any ounce of regret or shame. So, I want to tell you my stories because now is the moment to share them. Cause, in the end, sharing always gets us through the darkness of uncertainty and comforts us to know that we are not alone. And right now, we must band together more than ever.

Not that you asked, or maybe even care, but I am gonna impart some of my middle age wisdom. Cause my story may very well be a mirror to what you might be experiencing as well. This is why we share stories, I believe, in hopes of helping us all feel less alone. And, if you are like me, you benefit significantly from reading someone else's perspective to perhaps get a glimpse into your own that you might be avoiding. Maybe there is something you have thought about changing for a while and just needed an extra nudge. Perhaps this is your nudge. Also, Spring is upon us, which is always the season to reflect, renew, release and relax bitch. So, are you ready for some unsolicited advice? Good, I'm here to tell it.

For the past few years, maybe even longer, I have been hiding in the bathroom. There is something about hiding in the bathroom that has saved me. Nourished me, helped me through times of stress, allowed me to play and pontificate about some inspired observations I, for some reason, felt the need to share. Look, even if you don't listen, even if you don't press the "like button" or whatever (but seriously, why didn't you like it!), it really doesn't matter. I needed to express and document it to remember one day.

I am taking a filmmaking class online this month. A filmmaking class, I must preface, by the YouTube sensation Casey Neistat. I love his style. And his creative approach to it all so when the opportunity to take his first class presented itself to me, I signed up. I signed up, however, a few months back before the cunt Omicron arrived. I thought I would have some time on my hands, away from my kids, to focus on the many projects I am working on. But, as life unfolded, I did not have the space I was seeking. Which, in the end, unexpectedly became the movie I was seeking. Of course. 

Years ago, I read a story once in the NY Times about an elderly woman in Queens who was home alone, and a young man with a gun broke into her apartment. I am paraphrasing here, but this is what I remembered and what has stuck with me all these years. Here goes. So, there she was, with her morning robe and slippers on, standing in the middle of her kitchen on a cold winter morning, face to face with this desperate, delirious man pointing a gun and demanding money. She stands in shock, of course, but stares into his eyes with tenderness, with compassion he probably hadn't seen in some time and, asks him if he is hungry. His entire demeanor changed, shoulders sunk, head dropped, and he began to cry. She tells him to sit down, and that she'll make him some pancakes.

I had been avoiding doing this for a while now, but I promised my family I would do it on a day when the weather was nice. And so, today was the day. I mustered up the courage as best as possible, desperately trying to change my attitude, but sometimes, you can't, no matter how hard you try. Look, it's just not a thing. It's honestly hard for me to grasp that people like to do this outdoorsy, adventurous shit. That is not me. I am not that. I have never been, nor will I most likely ever be. I'll happily walk the island of Manhattan on foot, though, or ride for miles on an indoor stationary bike but getting on a wheeled thing for my mode of transportation in traffic-congested city, is not my idea of fun.

There is no beginning, middle, or end when it comes to motherhood. There are no arks. You are in it for life. Until death do you part. It is a delightful, beautiful, utterly exhausting, challenging, and never-ending job. A job I am so grateful I got to fully (and solely) experience for the past 10 years but now, now I am getting back to work. But more on that later. When they are young, you could argue that your mommy duties end when they go to bed. But then, when they finally do fall asleep after the millionth bedtime story you have read them and you wake up from falling asleep next to them - YOU, the mother, are so exhausted all you can do is roll out of their bed and into your own.

I have expressed this before I know - even wrote about it here - how I was raised (my childhood blah blah) and how I wanted to stay at home with my kids when they were young. But now, now, almost a decade deep, I am done (done I say!). I am at the grass is greener moment. I am at the; my kids need to see that their Mama can do more things than just be their private chef, butler, laundress, manicurist, pedicurist, homeschool teacher, doctor, and personal assistant. I know, I know I have expressed this before but this time is different. This time, I have unleashed it. This time, I have taken action. And decided, committed, to move my family across the ocean to pursue it (on land!).

There is something about fear that ignites me, challenges me, pushes me to my limits, and always surprises me with my own strength after I overcome them. I haven’t always felt this way. This newfound appreciation came whilst living out here at sea (of course). Cause, out here, as I have said before, you can't escape it - fear. It’s all around, every step of the way. There are still a handful of things I'm not comfortable (fearful) doing like, oh say, snorkeling or swimming in the ocean. (I still hear the soundtrack to the movie Jaws whenever I enter into the water to swim!) What? I know, I know what you’re thinking; you live at sea, anchored in the most beautiful waters, aren't you frolicking in the gloriousness of the clear blue waters all the time? Diving fearlessly off the back of the boat each day? Swimming laps in the morning for your daily exercise? No, no, and no. I am not that adventurous (I may never be); however, I am still enjoying the splendid waters whilst gazing above her as my kids splash around. And that, my friends, is the damn truth.

I thought I was over the motion. Ya know, the seasickness. I thought since I had had the Viking vision that night at the beginning of this journey, I would, again, become one with the rhythm of those crashing pounding waves. That, I would embrace the tempestuous sea in all her intense glory. But, no. Oh no. Not me. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Living out at sea is unlike anything I have ever experienced. It is completely different than life on land: your space, your pace, your attitude, your way of spending your day, and your ability to go with the flow. If something comes up, if you find a better path or meet another boat you wanna anchor around with (look at that - my first sea joke!), your plans change, and you adapt. You must adapt; that is really the key. There is no rush. The only rush is to make sure you sail before a storm, provision on the day when the mail boat arrives with (questionably) fresh goods, and make sure you get from point A to point B before sundown so you can see where the fuck you are and anchor far enough away from land or another boat.

I am not quite sure where to begin. So much has been packed into this sailing adventure thus far, it's honestly hard to wrap my head around the girth, the vastness, the scope of it all right now. Cause, right now, I am getting used to it, living it, learning it, getting in the swing of it, and embracing it. We have been sailing, planning, anchoring (the most stressful thing thus far), dodging storms (so many!), wind gusts up to 35 knots (!), navigating through sallow waters, terrible internet connection, homeschooling, and trying to source fresh goods (fuuuuuuucking nothing). Through this past month or so at sea, I have learned to adapt to everything splashing my way and thankfully been reminded: I am stronger than I thought.

This is the last blog post I will write from land. FROM LAND. Forgive me for yelling. I needed to repeat that cause shit just got real whilst writing it. Anywho, AHOY! We are down to the last days before our boat arrives and we are finally, finally able to move in to our new home at sea. Pictures and videos to follow on my next post for sure (whenever that may be) but, rest assured, I will continue to keep it real and be sure to document all the vomiting I am endlessly told to anticipate. You're welcome.

If someone would have whispered into my ear this time last year that we would be living in a condo, smack dab in the middle of the urban colorful streets of Florida, I would have surely told them to f**k off. I mean, I never ever ever thought we would go back to living in urban dwellings after living the country life. This move is temporary, but still, it has been our reality for a few months now (with one month left before we set sail). However, when we initially moved into our Airbnb rental, I was surprised at how comfortable I felt. After all, I had lived in apartments most of my adult life, before I had kids. And, much to my surprise, I had an overwhelming sense of comfort and security I hadn’t felt in years. It immediately brought back to living in the concrete jungle of Manhattan when I was young. Not to mention, when we were living in the country of Northern California, I would say to my husband that I wanted to expose our kids to culture and urban life. Well, I guess it only took a pandemic to give them a full education cause they are acclimated now! And, ya know what, they love it. They love living in a highrise condo, more than living in the country. Go figure. You see, a mother always knows…