WILD, TOO

It took a long time for me to pick up and read Cheryl Strayed's book WILD.  When WILD hit the bestseller list, I was hiking in the Angeles Forest regularly and it seemed all the women hikers were reading it.  And of course, they had to share.

So I felt like I was reading it then as well.

Now I know better.

The other reason I waited is...you have to know when something is good for you.   Yes, I know, this is not always as easy as it may sound.   The deep pain that Cheryl feels about losing her mother....well, I still feel that pain acutely too.  But there are major differences.

Cheryl's mother died too young.
My mother is still alive.  But she might as well be dead b/c she abandoned us and when she reinvented herself, my brother and I became casualties of war.

http://herkind.org/articles/on-my-mind/other-mothers

Like Cheryl, I am sad on my mother's birthday.   I think of her, and wonder, how is she.    It's one of those dates I call a blackout date.  A date you don't want to travel.

Another blackout date, my birthday which is coming up in four days.  I wonder does she ever think of me?  Wonder if I'm OK?  Google me?

Movies like Philomena give me false hope.  Oh, she must think of me!   Philomena couldn't stop thinking of her son.  I must go visit my mum in Australia and try, try again!   But doing the same thing over and expecting different results -- that's the very definition of insanity -- isn't it?

Plus in this day and age, she could find me if she wanted.

When I go to the doctor's, increasingly they ask for family history.  A few doctors have urged me to call her and say, "OK, you don't want to be my mom....Fine.  But I need your medical history so my doctors know what to do."   Be aggressive, be laid back, be ______________.  My mother could help fill in the blanks.

I admire Cheryl's courage, writing, honesty so much I've decided to start a book.  Of course, it's totally different.   Inspired by my life, my one woman show CHINESE GIRLS DON'T SWEAR and a literary agent in NYC.  This agent in NYC loves my wit, my courage, my writing.  She says my story is totally inspiring and empowering.

I've been resisting because I didn't want to go "there."  It's dark, it's personal, it's sad.

I resisted because my mother once pleaded, "C'mon, grow up, you don't need a mother any more."   Because I loved her, I believed her, I thought, hey I'm super mature.  Precocious.  Tiger Cub!

I resisted because everyone wants to know about my mother, but when you tell them, they don't freaking believe you.  "Oh no, a mother would never do that!"  "Are you kidding me?"   Sadly, tragically, I'm not kidding.  Even though I excel at comedy, have done standup, and my bits about my mother never fail to bring the house down.   Time + Tragedy = Comedy.

But I understand why nobody believes -- everyone else seems to have loving, nurturing mothers.  Top Chefs, Oscar Winners, Biggest Loser Contestants.   My girlfriends often say, "My mother's my BFF!" You find posts like this all over social media.

You are never too old, too wild, for want of a mother's love.

Tired of being sad, waiting for comedy gigs, feeling pity on those Blackout Dates (Mother's Day is probably the worst blackout date!), I will set out on a journey to write my novel.  I'm hoping that by blogging about it, I can inspire and push myself.