Come Bother Me

Before I begin my next prose, I would like to say that it is not about any one person in particular. I am a writer, it is what I do.

It takes the smallest of sparks to make my pen quiver. It could be a song that I heard or the memory of a feeling I had long ago. And on occasion it will relate to something that I am experiencing. Although, that is not always the case.

I find that I feel things on such a deep level that just about anything can spawn a moment of connection with the written word.

For example, I watched the sweetest movie last night; The Choice. From the author of The Notebook, it is another beautiful story about the courage it takes to love someone.

And the rewards we receive by never giving up. It is a total chick flick yes, but not the typical run of the mill love story. It is one about hope and connection to something beyond ourselves.

There are two lines in the movie that  inspired the words you are about to read.

The first, “Come bother me baby.”

A simple phrase, but it says so much. I think we have all had that person at one time or another in our lives that has bugged us to no end!

And not in the way that a child bothers their mother, but rather that person that for reasons beyond your understanding just gets under your skin…and you kind of like it.

You don’t want to like it, but you do.

It is as though there is an internal struggle happening between your mind and your soul. Your mind is telling you they are bad news, but your soul is telling you that they are the one.

The best relationships I have had were the ones that were less than perfect. I don’t want someone who is going to bend the knee. A man who will cave the minute a tear rolls down my face.

I want someone who challenges me, someone who gets under my skin, knocks me out of my comfort zone and forces me to be vulnerable.

Part of building a life together is about growing with one another. It is seeing the potential in someone and wanting nothing more than for them to see it too.

The other line from the movie that stuck with me was, “There is no shame in being a broken man. You just pick up the pieces and start putting your life back together.”

We are all weak at times and we all have felt broken.

In these moments of our lives, we must turn to hope and that inner voice telling us where to go next. In my opinion, that is why meditation is so important.

In times when I feel lost or broken if you will, I meditate.

It is a way to calm my mind and allow that inner voice to be heard above the noise of overthinking.

You see, I believe we are all part of a much greater purpose. The plans of which can not be understood from within the constructs of or current world.

We must instead, take a leap of faith and follow our hearts. Trusting our inner guidance to show us the way. Many times the path may be of great challenge and at times painful, but it is all necessary.

For living in a place of fear will only leave one feeling lonely and unfulfilled. Sometimes we need to take the plunge in order to find great clarity on the other side of pain.

Keeping yourself closed off from love may seem like the best course of action in preventing heartache, but I can tell you from experience that it is not.

You are not keeping yourself safe, you are setting yourself up for a life that is filled with a great deal more disappointment and struggle than any failed attempt at love.

In the process of building those walls, you are not just keeping everyone else out. You are severing the connection between your heart and mind. Mark my words…eventually, you will lose yourself. I did.

And coming back from that was more painful than anything I have ever felt.

And on that note, here is my poem about no one in particular.

I knew it was you.

From the moment you looked at me in that way.

As though you were bathing in my soul.

Awakening a part of me that I was not sure I wanted to be disturbed.

It bothered me

They way you knew me.

I knew that you could see me

And I was not quite ready to be seen.

Something in my heart assured me

That this was it.

The love I had been searching for all my life.

Surely I was not worthy…

Of the way you loved.

Without condition

For all that I am.

My faults

My mistakes

And the scars on my heart.

I could see it then

That you

You would forgive them all.

And then it occurred to me

I have never known a love like that.

Undeniably strong

And unwavering.

A love that would surely break me

Should it ever go away.

I decided it would be easier

To run away and hide.

To push you away

And refuse to believe

That it could ever work out.

But it wouldn’t go away.

The harder I pushed

And the further I ran

The more I felt it

Pulling at my heart.

Until I caved.

Wanting nothing more than you

Against my better judgement

I came to you.

Vulnerable and scared

I let go.

Over taken by passion

We became one

As I knew we would.

And when it was over

I felt more fear

Than I had ever thought possible.

Until the idea of losing you

Became my only motivation.

And so I ran

Once again

I ran.

Far away from the possibility of regret

Or so I thought.

Surely I was not worthy…

Of the way you loved.

Without condition

For all that I am.

But something in my heart

Just wouldn’t let you go.

It was undeniable

You and I

And as much as I wanted to believe

It would all fall apart

In the deep recesses of my soul

There was no doubt

That it would all work out.

You awoke something in me

Something I wasn’t sure should be disturbed.

It bothered me

The way you knew me

Like no one else.

The undeniable knowing

That you were the one.

The realization

That all I really wanted

Was for you to bother me

For the rest of my life.


Life is too short and our time on this earth unknown. For that reason alone, I beg of you all to put fear aside and follow your hearts. And when you fall, pick yourself right back up again and keep going.

Only you have the power to change your life and wouldn’t you rather risk the heart break if there was a possibility of finding true happiness? If you have ever been in love and I mean real love, then you know…it really is worth it.


I Beg Your Pardon

In the split of a moment

I felt you

Leaning into me

Frightened and trembling

With the passion

Of a thousand love songs

But I

I asked you for nothing

And you

Just for a moment

You gave me your world

I know it’s scary

Promising someone your life

Even now

From within the darkness of regret

But I never asked you for that

I never asked you to let go

In the past

All I ever wanted was you

Your love

I lived in the possibilities

Of all that could have been

And then

I let it all go

Moved on

With the understanding

That it was just not meant to be

You may be no Prince Charming

No Savior

Riding steady on your stallion

Charging in to win my heart

I know that you are broken

Wound by a love

That left you far behind

But for me


You were my only regret

I should have handled things differently

Living with the pieces of us

And still

I crave you

Not as before

This feeling…

This feeling is new

From within this moment

No strings attached

Just your skin

upon my skin

Telling secrets in the dark

No emotions to answer to in the morning

No one here to change our minds

You see

I have come to the conclusion

That you and I

In the amazing moments of us

Would stand strong

So strong

But we always end up here

Drowning beneath the broken possibilities

You and I

We could have been something

But I

I set that aside

No love allowed I told you

Just you and I

In the heat of the moment

Filling the voids

Within our hearts

But still

Still you ran

Taking my breath away

Although not like before

It’s different now

This sadness I hold

For it is no longer my own

But rather

For you


How broken you choose to be

What if we don’t have to be broken?

I think one of the most difficult parts of growing up is finding the strength to pull the skeletons from your closet. It would seem so much easier to hide them away forever and leave the past in the past, but in everything we have done that we are not proud of, there is a little piece of ourselves hidden among the ashes.

I hear a lot of people say they are broken. I have even said it myself in the past.

What if we don’t have to be broken?

What if there was a way to put ourselves back together?

When I first started writing my memoir, I remember it being very painful at times. Revisiting memories that I had selectively forgotten in order to save my own sanity.

As soon as I opened the door to my childhood, they all came rushing out and the wall of security I had built began tumbling down out around me.

It was from within one of the lowest moments of my life that I found my greatest strength.

One by one, I confronted all the residual emotional patterns that I had built up during those years.

The feelings of disappointment, neglect, abandonment, and loss.

The root of my constant need for approval and codependency.

My fear of love or the loss there of.

Piece by piece, I began putting myself back together.

Until I came to a place of great appreciation for all that I had experienced.

I was a new person the day I finished the first chapter and even more so as I wrote the final page.

And now, as I struggle with the pages of the 2nd, I am reminded of the same reluctance I felt when I wrote my very first blog post.

I know writing this next phase of my story will be just as, if not more of an emotional roller coaster than that last.

The first was during my early childhood and most of it was about my mother and her skeletons. There was aftermath, but it was her aftermath.

This next book will begin as I am entering High school, my mother having  been missing for just short of a year. I was lost and confused, but determined to act like neither of those were true. I don’t even know that girl now.

I picked up one of my old journals for inspiration and I barely got through the first few pages before I had to put it down. I could feel the pain on those pages and worse yet, I knew what was to come.

The moment my mother left me, something in me changed. Something it took years of reflection to understand. I spent a great deal of my life beyond that point feeling as though I always had to prove something to someone. In the earlier years it was proving to everyone else that I was not my mother. Showing them that I could conquer anything and everything she couldn’t.

Needless to say, it led me down a road where I did a lot of things I am not necessarily proud of. Things…the majority of the people in my life have no idea I did and for that matter would have a hard time believing I ever could do.

Up until now, I was not ready to share these things with anyone, let alone the whole world.

But you know what?

The person I am today is not just the result of all of the good things I have done. It is also and maybe more so, everything I have done that I am not proud of, those little piece of myself hidden among the ashes.

I am living proof that in this life, we are not bound by the mistakes of our past or the circumstances placed on us by others.

If telling my story is an inspiration to even just one, it’s worth it. That was the whole reason I started this blog and went on to write the book. So believe me when I say, I am not going to quit now, just because I hit a raw moment!

Thank you to everyone who has been so patient, yet persistent 🙂 in kicking my butt back in gear!

The wheels have started turning and I promise you’ll be the first ones to get a sneak peek!


For A Moment

Sometimes I feel as though I was not meant for this world

But rather a lonely spectator

Watching in the shadows 

As the lives of others pass me by

Perhaps in another time

Or another place

Somewhere between tomorrow and today

I am lost

wandering alone 

among the mysteries of the universe

For a moment today

It felt like home

His touch

His voice

The way my name 

Rolled gently from his lips

My knees quivering

My heart pounding in my chest

I wanted to tell him then

How I craved his skin

That feeling of passion

I only felt with him

 For a moment 

I felt as though I belonged

And just like that

It was gone 

Inspired Action

In anticipation for the revival, I went back and watched Roseanne from start to finish (Ya, it took a while!). I just watched the last episode.

It was exactly what I needed at the exact moment I needed it.

I forgot how powerful her final monologue was, especially the end.

When it 1st aired, I was barely a teenager, dabbling with the idea of someday becoming a famous writer from a very small town much like, if not exactly the same as, the fictional town of Lanford, IL.

Say what you will about Roseanne, I know it is not everyone’s cup of tea, but this show was a staple in my life. It may not have been as wholesome as Family Matters or Full House, but not everyone’s life was wholesome. Especially not mine.

In the midst of my dysfunction, it was a comfort (although fictional) that not every family was quote on quote normal, but it didn’t matter as long as there was love.

Lately, I have been struggling to find the inspiration to finish the next chapter of my memoir. And then today, I heard this…coincidence? I think not 🙂

Roseanne – Final Monologue – May 20, 1997 (an excerpt)

“…In choosing life I realized that my dreams of being a writer wouldn’t just come true I had to do the work. and as I wrote about my life I relived it and whatever I didn’t like I rearranged. I made a commitment to finish my story, even if I had to write in the basement in the middle of the night while everyone else was asleep.

But the more I wrote the more I understood myself and why I had made the choices I made and that was the real jackpot

I learned that dreams don’t work without action
I learned that no one can stop me but me
I learned that love is stronger than hate

And most important I learned that god does exist and he and/or she is right inside you.
Underneath the pain,
the sorrow,
and the shame.

I think I’ll be a lot better now that this book is done.”

Her last sentence reminded me of how cleansed I felt when I finished Insane Roots. It was like a therapy session of my own making and I think that is why I am struggling so much with the second book.

There are things I experienced during that time that up until now I was not ready to deal with. Pain buried so deep, I had almost forgotten it was there. Or at the very least, grown accustom to its sting.

Revisiting those memories, means the opening of old wounds and breaking down walls it took years to build.

But it also means healing. A necessary process in moving forward. And maybe someday, moving on.

The person you all know today is not the girl in the pages of Insane Roots, nor is she the struggling teenager in the chapters yet to come. She is the woman who survived them.

And I think it’s time to finish her story.