Deborah’s Blog

At some point along the way of finishing college, starting my career as a ballroom dancer, becoming a wife, and then a mother, I assumed I had grown up.  So when I turned forty-eight and my only child went away to college, I was scared.  The map of the well-trodden...

My family has always been dysfunctional.  With a capital D.  Alcoholism has poisoned the blood of too many members to count. We've always been dysfunctional, but now my family is actually broken.  Shattered into so many pieces it will probably never be put back...

What if after all these years of searching for meaning, I want to live a meaning”less” life? Stick with me for a minute. I am not talking about forsaking passion.  And love.  And purpose.  And the hope that I have a positive effect on the people I interact with on a...

When Brenda started her sentence with, “Deb, will you do me a favor…?”  I answer yes without even waiting to hear the rest of it.  Which is probably good because once I do, I really, really, really wanted to say no. Brenda has an online boutique,...

I think… therefore I am. Maybe the expression should be… I think therefore I “think” I am. I “think” too much.  I understand I should use my brain to think about how to drive a car.  And how to use an I-phone.  And how to change the ink in my printer. But the truth...

When I was seven years old, my best friend lived next door.  Her mother was an amazing seamstress and made a lot of my best friend’s clothes.  There was one outfit I absolutely adored.  It was made of red gauzy fabric with tiny white polka dots.  It was sleeveless...

Maybe you were lucky enough to be born into a family where you learned how to identify your feelings… and then were taught how to express them. I wasn’t.  My role in my family was the “happy one”, which is great practice for being happy.  The downside is I never...

Pursuing passion, for me, feels like going out into the world without my skin on.  Exposed.  Vulnerable.  Raw. Weirdly, it’s the way I prefer to be.  Putting on my skin, my clothes, and my roles, I feel stifled.  Suffocated.  Coverings that rub the parts of me that...