Intention

Today I’d like to set my intentions for this blog that I have been conjuring in my head for the past year. This idea for a book came into my head a few months before my mother’s passing last October of 2023. It happened quite unexpectedly and it took us all by surprise. She had been diagnosed with liver cancer a couple of years prior and although the tumors in her liver were relatively small and treatable, her liver was beyond repair and was put on the national transplant list. We were all aware that time was of the essence and although the doctors seemed optimistic which left my brother and I a bit optimistic too, just how much time exactly is something that couldn’t be determine, so we chose to think positively about the circumstances by not really focusing on it too much. My mom on the other hand reminded everyone every chance that she got that she was dying. She accepted the diagnosis and she accepted that this is what was going to kill her. So she nested and prepared as much as she could. Ultimately, I think only she knew how much closer to death she really was. I think we all know on some subconscious level.

I always wondered why the brain works in certain ways. Like why during tough challenges in life, like the death of a loved one, or in moments of failure and defeat, you’re often left reflecting back on what could have been done differently. Some days I’m left thinking if I would have got her to the hospital just a day or two earlier, if she would still be here. Other days I’m left thinking, I should have said, “fuck it,” “fuck everything,” and taken her by the hand and just dropped everything; giving her the best year and half of her life filled with travel, fulfilling all our plans we had set long ago together, or maybe I should have just been more present with her, soaking in the days of her companionship with a little more gratitude and love. Instead, we were so consumed with doctors appointments after doctor appointments. Researching and consulting every possible treatment option or drug, any kind of remedy that would prolong her life. It was a constant rush against time and it was ticking-accelerating even-faster than both my brother and I were aware of. Each day we watched her physically decline and there wasn’t anything any of us could do, but surrender. There was nothing stopping the inevitable and I don’t think any of us wanted to acknowledge that the end was nearer than we wanted it to be.

My mother was the first person to hear all of my ideas, no matter how crazy and unrealistic they were, she would sit and listen to every single little detail in silence and she never ever told me, “No, you can’t do that.” So it was no surprise that when I told her about this book idea, she just sat quietly and listen to me bounce ideas back and forth with myself out loud. She never inserted an opinion, unless I asked for one and no matter how she was feeling, she gave me that space, that outlet to regurgitate the thoughts in my head because by this point, my mother had realized and accepted that I was and will always be different when it came to my process. I was, am still a deeply complex person when it comes to my mental health. They are issues that I have struggled throughout my childhood and adult life. It is something that I live and work on with deep intention every single day. Writing has always been encouraged by my therapist to help with my thoughts. Something that I always struggled to do because, well, I’m lazy and if I am completely honest, my mom has always been my container. So now, I have no container besides my therapist that I see twice a month, but I realized I needed more. And well, here I am.

I thought, wouldn’t it be cool to see a writer go through their process of writing a book? Like watch them come up with pages in real time. I mean, it’s not the first time blogs have turned into published books, but most of the time that wasn’t the intention. Usually the blogger had an idea for a blog that later turned into a book. It seemed like an interesting idea at the time, but then when I actually started writing the first pages of this book, the thought occurred to me…are people going to buy a book they already read? Well, it wouldn’t be the first career that I’d make no money out of. LOL. All jokes aside, money is not why I am here. I’m here because I think we need more people to have the courage to tell their story. We need more people to be brave, vulnerable, and have the gravitas to lay it all out there. Because in one shape or form, we’re all fucked up and we’ve all been through some fucked up shit. The world needs kinship it, people need community, a sense of belonging. My entire life has been in search of it and at age forty two, I am still searching for my people because my people are gone and no-one ever prepares, or tells you just how lost you feel when both of your parents are dead.

So in my search to find my community, what I have inevitably found is myself. There is no greater exploration than getting to know who you really are. Stripping away all of the years of conditioning and start over. Except this time I’m healing my way through life and hopefully what gets created along the way is something that will be of service to you in some way shape or form. All I have are my words, experiences, wisdom, and some really great recipes that will all be shared here and in the book I am attempting to write. I’m not going to share everything because just like my true nature, allure and mystery go along way, (you’ll have to wait to buy the book), but you will see food, you will see outburst of frustration, random thoughts, and hopefully some really good writing, and maybe some not so good writing along with a little rough drafts here and there. But maybe you’ll get to know a little more about me along the way, get to know my process, my dysfunction, my family, my grief, my mental health struggles, but above all else feel whole lot of love interwoven in between it all.