Category Archives: Fear

Passing through the funk

The last couple months, give or take, I’ve not been myself. Or rather I’ve not operated the way in which I’ve operated let’s say the last 8 ish or so years. I lost a job that I wasn’t happy at and although I’ve been sending out requests to the Universe to help me break away from the organization I didn’t expect it to happen at the time it did and the way in which it did.

Funny how that works.

You put out your desires and it always comes back. The Universe may not answer your requests in the way that you predicted but it certainly responds.

To be fair it’s not to say I wasn’t grateful it happened.  To paint a picture I’ve got a metaphor. Those are always good to help visualize the situation.

Let’s say I was a pinata hanging off a tree in a pretty park. Getting fired was the last crack of the bat swung by the Universe that hit the pinata and now there lay all my life’s contents on the floor along with my cracked and broken pinata shell. What do I see you ask? Right here’s a reminder that I have a credit card bill coming up. Oh look, there’s a ‘go-get-’em-tiger’ well wishes card the Universe left me. Oh what’s that sharp ugly thing? Oh that’s my pride. And there, there are the dreams I have for my future career. And look, right here, I see my savings. Aww, there’s a picture of all the people that love me. Oh, here’s the shit I didn’t want to deal with but now how to face; fear. Somewhere in there is opportunity but it seems to be hidden underneath all these fun sized rainbow colored emotions.

Sensory overload and I didn’t know which to pick up and open first.

To further play on the metaphor I was being greedy and tried to open them all at once. As if one could stomach all that at once right?

So not right.

In turn what ended up happening was a magnificent sense of feeling overwhelmed and lost and frankly, sad.

I was navigating through the shock of being fired. The relief I no longer had to work for a boss I couldn’t respect and an organization I was checked out of. The gratitude directed to the Universe that it heard my plea. The confusion of not knowing what I wanted to do next but knowing I wanted to do it (whatever it was). The anxiety of no longer having that “stability” (i.e. healthcare benefits, monthly metro card, bi-weekly paycheck, unlimited PTO etc) and having to figure out logistics of living. The loneliness of not having my core supporters enveloping me in a big empathetic hug.

It’s been a tough couple of months. I spiraled. To be fair I also had bouts of good and motivation but it was really more of the I don’t need to shower it’s not like I have fun plans I am going to lay in bed and binge watch whatever I want while eating mass amount of Trader Joe’s chicken tacos with melted cheese on top and not think about how I have to let Huxley out to do his business at the minimum of 3x a day and run the risk of seeing my neighbors variety.

I tried to come out on top numerous times and to be honest I was getting pretty angry at myself. I was mad I felt some of these things when this was my clean break. Feeling lost and overwhelmed felt like I was lacking control. And that’s always been hard for me. The not having to control since most of my upbringing I was controled.

But I realize sometimes that simply a funk is a funk and a person may need to be funky.

It’s important to grieve. In this case I was grieving a job I took pride in and worked my ass off at. I was also grieving this career I made for myself over the course of 10 years. I was grieving a dream I envisioned and fulfilled in moving and living in New York. I was grieving for a part of me I was struggling to let go.

All the while procrastinating..

Procrastination is such a bitch. Seriously, it’s the worst.

Tell me why it’s so easy to procrastinate a dream, a goal, a desire? It shouldn’t be but alas here it was. Procrastination staring at me in the face and it was ugly and whispered very sinister things at me.

I had all these ideals that I couldn’t move forward unless I knew exactly what I was going to do career wise. I wanted to go from 0 to 60. It was just like me to turn my head to all the gray area.

I was feeling that if I wasn’t there (there being a insert job title here in this awesome new career at a fantastic non profit living a fulfilling meaningful life) immediately then I would be a failure.

Ok, unrealistic expectations much?

It’s a lot right? Yeah I put a lot of pressure on myself. And when I didn’t meet the pressures I was even harder on myself.

Cue back to I don’t need to shower it’s not like I have fun plans I am going to lay in bed and binge watch whatever I want while eating mass amount of Trader Joe’s chicken tacos with melted cheese on top and not think about how I have to let Huxley out to do his business at the minimum of 3x a day and run the risk of seeing my neighbors.


I feel like I’m at a turning point. Yay. I’m starting to feel more like myself. It’s a very welcomed feeling.

Here’s to uncovering the clues for beautiful opportunities!





To let go; to bring in

As the year comes to a close I’ve been doing a lot of self reflection. There was a night I gifted (well not quite gifted since it’s something we should give ourselves more frequently with zero guilt) myself where I sat down to be with my thoughts while I drank some fantastic wine with a smell good candle lit and Huxley snoozing on the bed by my side. It’s kind of incredible what a treat a night to yourself spent in the way you want to does for your being. It’s so completely underrated. 

I suggest you all give yourself a night immediately. 

You guys, I’ve done a lot this year. And it’s crazy to think I just realized how much I’ve done. I tend to jump in headfirst and boom there’s autopilot. It used to work for me. It was a survival skill I learned very young to help me through life that I now know wasn’t easy, ideal, or to be honest very loving. I don’t want it to sound like love was lacking in my life but the love was conditional and hard. It wasn’t conducive to a child’s growth or mindset.

But what I want now for myself is to be more mindful. I want expansion. I want to be seen. And by doing/having/being I will then create so much more opportunity in my life. 

I’ve learned that what I tend to do is expend ALL energy I have in work, friendships, whatever. And then as fast as I started I’m left exhausted, tired, and heavy with no energy. Ugh. It’s depleting. And it’s not sustainable. 

I’ve learned a lot about myself over the past 5 years. And I haven’t done it without help. 

If ever there was a segue to the idea of therapy I’m going to take this as it. 

Therapy is important. It is fruitful to being a well rounded person who can look at their hardships and give themselves love. Love to forgive. Love to accept. Love to take action. 

I cannot stress this enough. Therapy is important. It can have a negative stigma and that’s bullshit. 

Would you ask a sommelier what wine they recommend that pairs the best for the plate of food you’re about to order at an established 4 star restaurant? Did you not have a coach to guide you and challenge your physical and mental strength and capacity for whatever sport you played in school or professionally? Do big wig executives not have a board of trusted advisors to check in quarterly on the roadmap and to advise them of sound decisions to ensure a company is headed in the right direction? 

Then why the fuck as a human being living as an adult do you not have a therapist or life coach who has studied, mastered and understands human behaviors, thoughts, and emotion. It’s imperative as a citizen of the world and if, at the very least, as a person who craves something beyond them, to understand who they are by unearthing what they came from to discover who they want to be. Read that again. Please.

You guys, your ego is an incredibly powerful thing. It can hinder so much of who you are. But by acknowleding and recognizing how and when it shows up and why will allow you to move mountains. 

By any means do I think I am moving mountains but by every fuck out there I have the ability to do so. And there’s a fuck for you if you think otherwise.

I am a better person for asking for and seeking help. I’ve always had a problem asking for things. I had pride. I had ego. I had insecurity. 

Now? Now I have and am still learning love for myself. And compassion. 

I want so much for myself. I know you do too. We owe it to ourselves to give ourselves all the resources to actualize our wants.

This is my life. I have to remind myself that I have time. I also have the skills and resources in abundance. 

So this is me. 

I am so grateful for what 2016 has brought me from experiencing the opera at the Met for the first time, to the travel to far away lands, to all the glasses of wine and bowls of fondue at Murray’s Cheese Bar, to those bartenders at Murrays Cheese Bar who didn’t judge me for all the glasses of wine and bowls of fondue I scarfed  down and instead hooked me up, to my super who unclogged my toilet and gave hux love, to drs appointments and physical therapy for my knees, to all the people that have visited me and shared with me their first New York moments, to the seamless food delivery guys that brought me lunch at work daily, to Huxley’s sweet lovable nature, to being able to surprise my best friend on her birthday, to all the apt cleaning I did resentfully, to the subways that came at just the right time, to my shitty narcissistic boss, to becoming a certified coach, to the friends that I’ve laughed and cried with, to saying goodbye to my brothers, my mother, and Becca who beacame one of my best friends, to the overpriced New York everything, to the Greek guy who reminded me how I want to be loved, to being published in a handful of online articles for work, to my rooftop views, to relinquishing my Cali license, to 2016 and everything in between. 

I let go of stories I narrated to myself that don’t serve me. I let go of the negative ideas and perceptions I held of myself. I thank them for the lessons I’ve learned. I am grateful for everything. I hate the turn of connotation of the word has taken but I will say it. I feel blessed. 

For 2017 I bring in expansion. However that means. I say yes to love, to opprtunity, to life.

I breathe it all in. I expand. 


I’m sitting here in downtown Manhattan in the middle of a crowded DMV. I’ve lived here for more than 2 years now. I’ve had 3 home addresses. I’ve had 2 jobs. But for some reason renewing and changing my license from California to New York feels more permanent.

It’s as if I’m committing to New York all over again. This time my glasses aren’t rose colored, they’re slightly foggy and vision isn’t clear.

This time there are no expectations. There is only reality.

Frankly, I don’t quite think I’m in the right headspace for this emotional endeavor. I guess I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.

But alas, this is where I find myself. I’m sitting here and a part of me feels like my identity is being stripped from me. I don’t know how to describe it but it’s unsettling.

I am well aware I made the choice to move to New York. And I’m also aware I made it happily. and willingly. and on my own.

So much has happened since I first touched down in New York that hot July day in 2014. So much.

I am still me. But maybe I’m a more refined me. I’ve shed some parts of me while bringing in new layers of skin to help serve as protection and defense against New York’s sometimes harsh, yet (if you can see it) beautiful realities.

I can’t help thinking I may have also lost a little bit of me that I loved. I’m struggling to understand what that may be. I haven’t quite put my finger on it. Could it be the blind optimism I outwardly projected in every circumstance? Maybe it’s the knowing there was an unknown I had yet to discover.  I don’t know..

I’ve been told a lot that I carry myself like a New Yorker and people can’t tell I’ve only been here for a mere 2 years. In response I have mentioned that I’ve toned down the Cali pleasantries. (It’s a real thing.) But it’s more than that. I’m still well mannered and friendly and I still smile at strangers. But maybe a little bit of me has hardened and closed itself off. Maybe the naïveté and beginners luck has worn itself non existent.

I feel like I’m saying goodbye to something I now want desperately to hold on to. My identity is changing here in New York. I’m saying goodbye to California and the life I used to have. I already feel out of the loop with my best friends back “home”. And I know, vice versa. A lot of them don’t even know how I live out here or what a day looks like for me. It makes me a bit sad. I’m disconnected.

This is a goodbye to California. It’s real. And it feels more real since I already have a life here. I’m not starting over this time as I say goodbye. My life here is established. I’m just moving on this time. It’s hard. I wasn’t prepared for this.

I’m at an impasse. My heart is in stalemate and I’m not ready to say goodbye.

The 1950’s

**Full disclaimer: I am sorry but I am not in the mindset to proofread and edit so here is some raw material. Don’t judge me. But if you do, keep it to yourself. 🙂

You guys, I had a flashback earlier to when I was in the 5th grade. It could’ve possibly been in the 4th grade (i’m quite certain it was the 5th) but in this circumstance it’s all one in the same. I remembered having to do a report on a genre or decade of time. I don’t remember how we chose what we chose or if there was any significance to it but I had the 1950s. Again, my memory isn’t serving me specifically but you get the gist.

Somehow, I think of the 50s nostalgically. I haven’t lived through the 50s so I don’t have much authoritative knowledge on the topic but it was somehow a decade of meaning.

I grew up listening to Frank Sinatra, Bobby Darin, Rosemary Clooney, Dean Martin, Johnny Mathis and the like. I thought sock hops were the coolest thing and that hula hoop, how awesome was it to hula hoop? I think of those cul-de-sacs and how every home must’ve looked like the ‘Brady’ residence. And how everyone wanted a mother like June Cleaver who baked pies and shook her head at her kid’s antics laughing them off but loving them all the same. How Disneyland was a huge deal and the war was becoming a thing of the past. How Ford was revolutionizing transportation. How there were roller skating waitresses at carhops serving milkshakes.

How does this not all sound like a time you wanted to be a part of?

Anyways, I remember how big of a deal this homework was. There was research involved. I had to go to the library and legit scan through books and quote things. I had to submit notes that cited evidence. I had to really understand what it was I was reporting on.

I remember this being the first real project that took significant effort. I remember I chose the 1950s. I know somewhere alone the way there was some sort of consensus that took place. Maybe this project was a team collaboration and we respectively had our own assignments. I do remember knowing I wanted this decade. This era was mine because in some unexplainable way it was important to me.

What I also know is that tonight I was having drinks with a couple of co-workers and I found myself in the “washroom”. And in it there were posted clippings of presidents’ past. And out of no where I remembered this time in my life that I never thought to be significant. This time when I had to do a report on the 1950s. But this time that slapped me in the face out of no where while I was washing my hands in 2015 reminded me of a previous life.

It made me sad you guys. Really.

How can at such a formative stage in my life of me doing something I haven’t thought of in years and years and probably more years affect me so hard? And how could something that was a project that was soo hunge then feel so small now? It probably holds the same weight that a work presentation would have currently but thinking back it feels so far removed.

It was something I vividly remember being so important to me. It was something I really wanted to work hard on to showcase my effort and be proud of. Here I am, so many years later, it reminds me of a time that was so simple yet was so significant to a period of learning and growth. It was formative and it is important to notate.

I don’t  know if I know exactly why I feel the need to share this except for the mere fact that things hold weight. That memory will surprise you. That your life has moments of importance that you may not realize at the time but will most likely reveal itself later. That you should hold things dear to your heart. That a lot of things don’t change (I still have a deep penchant for Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Sammy Davis Jr, sock hops, The Brady Bunch, Disneyland etc). That even if things are sad because the moment is gone the meaning still hold value. That I still love to gather things and make 1 big thing out of lots of smaller little things.

Tonight and this memory was just another reason for gratitude. I am sad because I am nostalgic yet I am satisfied because I am blessed.

Good night.

Changing of the Seasons

“When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.”
Ernest Hemingway

The seasons here change so abruptly. One minute it was blizzarding and cold as hell then all of a sudden the ice and snow and slush has melted and spring has started to show it’s pretty self. I find myself wearing less layers of clothing or at least clothing that isn’t as thick.

I’ve actually really enjoyed the winter. Seeing all the snow in the parks made it feel like I was stepping into Narnia every time. It was magical and really resonated in my soul. Supposedly this year was a colder winter than last. Yes, there were days where the wind bitch slapped my face so hard it left imprints for hours but I didn’t mind it too much. Maybe it was the new New Yorker naivete. But this Cali girl is happy to say I have a true New York winter under my belt.

So with the new season comes new changes.

I feel like ever since I truly “woke up” my life has been a constant influx of change. By ‘waking up’ I mean since I truly became cognizant of the person I was and wanted to be. This feeling of aliveness probably started festering in me about 4 ish years ago. In past posts I’ve talked about the transformation I’ve had and the journey I’ve been on personally.

I’m no stranger to change and acceptance. Over 8 months ago I stepped foot on New York City soil as a resident and not a visitor. So much has happened since to further define who I want to be and what I realize about myself.

It’s quite crazy actually how much change I’ve put myself through and only when I allow myself to pause and process do I realize how much it all sums up to.

This leads me to March. It has been such a challenge. In fact it’s been a bit of a mother fucker.

In all honestly, it’s been hard as shit for me to navigate. I’ve had panic attacks that have felt like min heart attacks as well as a breakdown rivaling my first NYC breakdown almost a month ago now; I think. It’s hard to keep track of time in a city that’s constantly moving at a pace that’s a struggle to keep up with. It was equipped with me falling to the floor in such deep despair sobbing uncontrollably borderline hyperventilating ignoring the noise that was my phone and my supposed lifeline.

It felt like I was swimming in such massive shit and I couldn’t breath. I was overwhelmed and completely engulfed in something so much greater than I could control. My first NYC breakdown? Yeah, that was peanuts compared to this shit. This shit was rough.

Maybe it was months or years of not being able to process and just jumping into things wholeheartedly that brought me to this state of mind. Maybe it was because of all the moving factors in my life at the moment. I’m seeing a guy who I have developed really deep feelings for who I’m not sure is the one for me. I’m working at a job that I don’t want to stay at but where I’m vying for a full time position because right now it is the option that makes most sense. I’m trying to brand myself in my coaching practice and truly start a business. My roomie and I decided that it was time we went our separate ways although we love each other and enjoy living together. I started the process of getting an apartment but it is the most difficult process I’ve ever dealt with. (Sidenote: I really wish people who didn’t live in New York City understood how harrowing an ordeal it is. There are so many hurdles to jump through with paperwork and guarantors and signing your soul away to the devil himself. Shit, jumping of a cliff 20 stories high was far easier than me trying to get an apt in NYC). On top of all that I find myself in so much debt. And a trip to Africa is on the horizon that I have yet to do anything for (ie get vaccinations, get a travel visa, finish fundraising or come up with the rest of the money etc).

So here I find myself; right in the thick of some overwhelming life shit and sometimes it feels really lonely; other times I feel like the support I do have can carry me through anything. I am, as always, grateful and humbled to be in the position I am in but I appreciate your support and love and any other help you want to send my way. Only in the recent years have I been asking for help and sometimes it really kicks me in the ass and brings up tough shit and other times it surprises me and makes me feel like my heart is full and my world is right. More of the latter please, thanks.



Only in the recent few years have I begun to define who I am.  I think it’s only because in the last few years have I come to understand what has helped shape me by circumstance and what has helped shape me by personal choice. What has helped me accept and love who I’ve become is being able to differentiate the two.

I’m a younger looking 32. At least I like to think so and feel validation when asked to see my id.

I moved to NYC a little over 7 months ago and am recently realizing what a huge deal that was.

I am honest to a fault but have learned tact and am practicing holding back all my truth because not everyone wants to hear it.

I sometimes eat my feelings. I can’t decide if that’s an excuse or not becuase I love food that much. I have an extreme weakness for anything cheesy or carb loaded or fried or even better all three at once.

I love adventure but sometimes feel hindered by my lack of staying in shape and the fact that I can’t swim. As in I have the urge to jump off a cliff into the ocean but it’s probably not safe since I can’t swim. Or I would love to climb a mountain but not sure if my lung capacity can handle that.

I’m all belly but I mask it well because I know the types of clothes that accentuate what they need to.

I love reading but I love language even more. The words dance together and it’s beautiful. My father instilled in me the habit to look up a word immediately if I didn’t know the meaning and doing that has and continues to enrich my vocabulary.

I fall in love a million times a day. If I see a beautiful sunrise. An adorable child on the subway. A hot man with pretty eyes locking his pretty with me for just a sec. When the kind man distributing the metro paper tells me on the way to work to have a wonderful day. When I’m rockin a hot outfit. When I come home to Huxley and he’s so happy to see me as if I changed his whole day around and the world is right again. When a stranger smiles back at me. When it’s snowing. When a boy in his stroller is making crash noises with his toy cars on the subway. When my trains run seamlessly and on time. When I get a text and it’s a picture of my nephew bear. Each time I realize I actually live in New York City. When I think that for the first time ever in June I will get to visit the African continent. When I ate that bomb ass egg and cheese on croissant…

I’m a sucker in love.

Hopeless? I don’t think so. Romantic? Beyond comprehension.

I worry sometimes I won’t have all the time to do all i want to do in this life. But that kind of pressure pushes me to want and do more.

These are all sums of me. They do not define me. They are a part of what makes me me. What truly defines me are my values and my character and the way I show up in life everyday.

How I showed up yesterday wasn’t pretty.

I had a bit of a breakdown last night. My first New York City breakdown. I had to drop $500 at the vet because the pup has been throwing up almost every day for a couple weeks. I’ve been stressing hard about finances and stability lately and with a shit day at work and worrying about Hux and a million other things I walked away from the vet feeling utterly defeated. 

I dropped Huxley off at home and took my sorry ass to the wine store to get a bottle to drown my sorrows. Yes, I did. Go ahead and judge.

It felt like someone was ripping through my soul.

I came home but before I poured a heavy glass I fought tooth and nail with the couch cover that shrank from my dry cleaning it due to Huxley’s throw up. A couch cover that has somewhat become a point of contention for me and my roommate. (Another story for another time). That shit stressed me out even harder and I hurt my hand in the process and had to call into one of my lifelines.

That shit? That damn couch shit? That was ‘the straw that broke the camels back’.

I broke down. BROKE. DOWN.

My roommate came home to me on the misshapen covered couch looking sad and dejected in the midst of fat sobs holding a big bertha glass of wine with the lights low and Sinatra playing on pandora.

I felt thoroughly confused that I was in this place of such heavy uneasy anxious defeated magnitude. I have been doing everything right and I felt the universe was scoffing at me.


I really lost myself for a bit there. Shit became so overwhelming and escalated so quickly.

Hello New York City break down. Welcome to my life.

I was rest assured from the roomie that everyone needs this shit from time to time and that almost 8 months in I was really late to the game. That made me feel slightly better.

Then just as quick as it came, it went. I spent the rest of my night face timing with a guy that I am having all sorts of feelings for. A guy I don’t even really know but feel like I do. A guy I think I want in my life. Whoah nelly. Hold up.

Here I go falling in love for the millionth and 1 time..

So there you have it.

These are all parts of me. Bits and pieces. I feel with all of my heart when I feel things and immerse myself in moments but then moments pass and there are new moments.

But here I am showing up in life and living. If you need to define me, there you have it. Take what you need and leave the rest.




I’m realizing that what New York represents to people that move here is a dream. It’s as if the only way you can truly ‘make it’ is if you do it in New York. People are walking around hustling to reach their own individual goals. A city of 8 million and a city of even more dreams.

I came here to realize my dreams and in doing so I am starting to live them.

Holy fuck is that a good feeling.
Different people have asked me why I moved here and I haven’t really been able to articulate why. I give the standard “I come to visit the city at least once a year. I fell in love with it 8 years ago. I was ready for a change…” or if I’m feeling cheeky the “well I wasn’t ready to settle down and have kids and all my friends back home are doing just that so I figured why not move to a city where the focus isn’t that…” and sometimes “it’s just for 2-3 years and the only way I could move back to the Bay eventually was to move to an even more expensive city…” Or other variations of these same answers.
In ruminating on it more and having now been here for almost 7 months I’m understanding that I moved because I was longing for something and knew that whatever it was I would find it here in New York. There was something that kept pulling me towards this city. It’s why I came back every year to visit. It’s why different people have told me they could see me living here even before I could. It’s why on a whim based on a conversation that came up when I visited here last May I decided in my heart that I was going to move here and I was going to do it asap.
I could no longer ignore the longing inside me that kept pulling me towards NYC.
From that catapulted so much more fire in me I didn’t know was there.
It’s like Eve eating the forbidden apple and from that knowing how vast the world really was with all it’s good and evil. But with me; the fire is igniting all this shit within me that I didn’t realize were dreams of mine with the true possibility of all of it coming to fruition. Fruition. That’s funny. I didn’t intend for there to be that comparison within my simile and metaphor. Fruition can mean when something, like a plan or project, is realized or it can mean when fruit is produced.
Even as I write or try to formulate my own thoughts I realize there could be something good there. Such is the process of writing, I guess.
It is now the first day of February and I’m sitting here in a coffee shop in my ‘hood. This morning Huxley and I took a long walk through Central Park. It looks different everyday although equally beautiful. It’s inspiring to see such beauty.
What I want for my day is to produce some ideas. I wanted to get the creative juices flowing. I wanted to write and I wanted to brainstorm on ways to market myself in my new venture. This is going to be new for me. The whole me being my own brand. I’ve dabbled with it by having this blog and by creating a fundraising campaign but me marketing myself in a way that will help change my career will be big for me.
This seems to be my current theme right now. Believing that I am worthy to be a brand and to have value and to be heard. I just ask that you all are patient in my journey and if you are here to stand with me in my campaigning for me remind me when I get down or frustrated if you feel so inclined to encourage. I’m sheding some old values I’ve had of myself that no longer serve me and it’s not easy. I’m realizing the perception I had of me maybe wasn’t all true. I’m also realizing that a lot of the ways I wanted to be perceived by others is in fact true and so now I’m working on the things that I am not and want to be. So if you are still here as a ride or die’r to support me in this journey a million times I thank you. Your support is felt this many miles away and it warms my heart daily.