Why I went dark last month

I went silent in May. Here's why...

I wrote a new “Joyful Grief” piece last month. And I never posted it. It was originally about Mother’s Day and why — despite it being a bittersweet moment for me — it’s a day I look forward to. Despite never getting the actual day off.

Somehow it feels fitting that I never found time to post that piece. Because let’s face it, as mothers — and, yes, women — we often put ourselves last.

“My eyes are tired; my body is tired; my heart is tired,” I uttered to my husband this morning. “I'm just tired.”

Is there any better time to sit down and write? Writing is when I reflect. It’s when my soul finds peace. It’s when I try to make sense of the senseless.

When I have the time. And energy. So…

Two cups of coffee later, and here I am “Joyfully Grieving” because I finally can. Since my initial (now abandoned) Mother’s Day reflection, my husband went out of town for three weeks. To photograph the Met Gala in New York, ACM Awards Awards in Texas, and the Cannes Film Festival in France.

I’m sure he’s tired, too. But he wouldn’t dare tell me because we both agree — working is a vacation of sorts. Don’t get me wrong. We’re beyond grateful to be parents. Obviously. But our jobs allow us both to remember who we were BEFORE our family’s journey unfolded. Oh — and work pays the bills. So, yay for work.

The last handful of weeks since he left town (and has since returned) have been a blur. If memory serves me, my son was sent home more than a few times because potty-training has been its own messy journey. (And yes — they unpredictably send him home for accidents. Don’t ask.)

I remember also taking my twelve-year-old dog, Chauncey, to the vet because I thought he was dying. It turns out he’s just living in fear of his other doggie sister, Snow, who has been known to go after him for no apparent reason. I swear this dog thinks she’s in “The Lion King,” and she’s attempting to Scar my other dog out of the picture. Still. Eight years later.

I’ve cried a few times. (I think?) Or at least I’ve needed to.

Ask my therapist. She can probably better recap the last month. Or maybe not. Do they take notes? I probably should start taking notes since I can’t recall details of my own life. Trauma induced? Maybe. Or maybe I’m just a mom. I don’t know. I’m certainly not a therapist myself.

Logistically speaking, I’ve had shoots for The Retaility. Deadlines for The Hollywood Reporter and L.A. Times. Coffees with friends and colleagues. Meetings with my son’s school about — you guessed it — potty training. (Oh wait. I mean, “potty learning.” I guess that’s what they’re calling it nowadays.)

But that’s all just semantics and survival. If I didn’t keep moving, I’d probably stay in bed. And struggle to get out. That said, feelings are often put to the side when pushing forward and getting through the day, month, year… minute.

Several highlights over the last month have also come and gone — including: A stunning, heartfelt piece written about me by Jasmin Rosemberg for L.A. Magazine’s May issue — for which I’ll be forever appreciative. And last week, I hosted an event for The Retaility, which was attended by everyone who was meant to be there.

Before every event I host, my husband always asks me, “How many more of these do you have in you?”

He knows I barely planned our wedding. He and my mom had much stronger opinions about the big day. I just like showing up to a pretty affair and being surrounded by people I love, admire, and with whom I feel compelled to spend time.

Despite my exhaustion after five months of planning the event, once it concludes, I’m inevitably always thinking about the next one. Because I love the camaraderie between likeminded people. (And only partially because I’m a masochist.) But if people aren’t going to put me in a room, I’m creating my own. (More on that in Jasmin’s beautiful L.A. Magazine article — linked here.) Oh wait. I already linked it. Whatever. I’m *that* proud of it.

As I shared with Jasmin in the piece, any time spent with new and old friends allows me to feel like I’m (maybe?) one step closer to figuring out what my next steps should be — personally, professionally, philanthropically. All the Ps, I guess. I don’t know. As my son can attest, I’m knee deep in all forms of pee these days.

One day, perhaps, life will further reveal itself. In the meantime, I relish getting dressed and having a reason to see people. And say hello.

So, that said… hello to all of you. Sorry it’s been a minute. But I’ll be back again soon to say hi. As for that original Mother’s Day piece, I’ll hold onto it for next year. Seeing as my annual Mother’s Day tradition has become my husband going out of town for work, I don’t foresee my feelings / reality changing any time soon. He’ll likely — once again — be out of town. And I’ll still be a bereaved parent.

Photos by Emma McIntyre