As my idol RuPaul says: "If you can't love yourself, how the hell can you love anyone else?" While I'm all about this, I think self-acceptance can be very difficult for many people. In 2008, I realized how hard it was myself when a therapist told me to practice saying, "I love you" to myself or visualize hugging my inner child. I couldn't do these things, at least not at first. I invite you to try this exercise...the outcome might surprise you. You might struggle with it. You

Over the years, I have played a part in the care of several family members who suffered from cancer. To top it off, I am a service provider, a massage therapist--and a classic codependent. For a codependent, it is always easier to take care of others than to surrender to acts of kindness. Around the time I was diagnosed with cancer, I realized that all my life I had based my value on what I did for family, friends, and clients, and not on my inherent worthiness. How could any

At its best, air guitar is performance art. At its worst... well, at least it's sixty seconds. Better than an ironic, off-key karaoke performance of "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Having been a karaoke deejay and listened to many performances of "Total Eclipse of the Heart," I believe that if you can stand before a crowd and earnestly entertain the audience with nothing but an imaginary instrument in your hands, you are brave...very brave. Also a complete dork. Good for you! A

Happy Anniversary Colonoscopy: May 20, 2019. The thirtieth anniversary of our first date. After a grueling night of colonoscopy prep, showing up at the clinic feeling as if I had been in battle, (honestly, it should be mandatory that everyone who prescribes the clean-out protocol experience it first), I noticed colorectal cancer advertising wherever I looked. Charles asked me if I wanted to shift positions so I wouldn't have to see cancer advertising in 4D. But I felt too mis

I grew up in turmoil. The chaos stretched and twisted around me like a boa constrictor, tightening and gripping, clinging to me throughout my life in one way or another. Then, at my bachelorette party in 2002, I discovered one of my favorite forms of therapy--karaoke. Specifically, metal karaoke. I poured my rage into singing songs like "Welcome To The Jungle," "Shout At The Devil," and "Mother." I realized I could channel my angst through my voice in front of a room full of

A look back: At one point while she was dying, my mother told me I would have a mess to clean up after her death. I didn’t foresee that the mess would be me. My mom died of lung cancer on June 22, 2016. Four weeks before that, my symptoms started. As the weeks passed after her death, my intestinal issues worsened. After six months, I cut out alcohol and though it helped, it wasn’t enough. The next step was to change how I ate. I went on a mostly plant-based diet with fish and

First Portland Regional Competition 2010