Time is Soup

How does this work?  Hmmm...let's see. I sit down.  Push aside the fear that I'm unworthy.  That I'm not interesting.  Push aside, with my right foot, my husky, Wiley, who wants to go for a walk.  "Wait twenty minutes, boy, we'll go.  We will go."   I push aside every small voice that lives inside of me.  That tells me what's the point?  Why do it?  But inside me there are other voices (not I'm not crazy, we all have them, just close your eyes, and breathe) that permeates my psyche on a daily basis.   You have to keep writing.  It's what gets you through the worst of times and the best of times.   Don't deny yourself that right.  Don't deny even that one person who may read this, your words.  Just sit down and do it.

I've been on a long journey.  It started in 2009 when I published my first book NOTE TO SELF: 30 WOMEN ON HARDSHIP, HEARTBREAK AND HUMILIATION, and I started writing in this blog.
Since then I've published another book, sold a screenplay, directed some things and the biggest and best of all, birthed two beautiful and amazing children.  Ruby and Boone.

Last year we picked up our family and moved to Park City, Utah from Los Angeles, CA.  From sun to snow.  Sand to Pines.  Sea to Ski.   It was the hardest thing I've ever done.   I left behind the most beautiful tribe of women. My tribe. The tribe.  Tribe of my life.  Tribe of many lives.  Many lives many masters.  These women  have been the bedrock of my life through near death moments, first moments of life and everything in between.  How does a woman verging on 50 with two small children, a loving husband, and two energetic huskies, leave everything she knows behind and start again?  You just fucking do it.  That's how.   I'm just  beginning.  Of what?  Who's to say.  But it's the beginning.  Or maybe I'm in the middle.  Or maybe time is just soup.  A big bowl of soup.

So here I am. Back to writing. Sharing my shame.  Loving my life.  Terrified each and every day of whatever.  I'm just gonna write about it.  

Soldier on, let's do this.

Andrea.