Tag: younger self


Devon….it is time to go.

I get these moods. You can call them that…during my period and I am not of this world…I am foreign to myself and an unwelcome visitor to my family. I claim it is PMS that brings her but recently she arrives after that period and hangs out like a gate keeper…She is annoyed she is late and plots endlessly to insure we don’t soon forget her.

She’s been here becasue I haven’t been dancing with her of late…no studio to escape to…I fear..

Devon has very scrappy hair and runs around with long tie dyed draw string pants and usually no shirt…Devon is 8 – she has no boobies at all and no shoes and she caries two knives…

I think she arrived on my 5th Birthday when my sister told me I wasn’t allowed to play in my own game at my own party becasue I wanted to choose my water balloon toss partner – and I didn’t want my sister to choose for me.

She was in charge of the carnival games my family had put together- I guess or she acted like she was. And under the big tree out back while they were all playing catch…with the water balloons to an egg race with plastic spoons…something where a partner was needed…

She made me sit out of the game all together and in that moment DEVON was born..they say people get their split personalities from trauma…this wasn’t a trauma – this was a totally BS situation that I was forced to deal with bc my older sister said so…I remember..and so maybe Devon is really 5 for all time and she arrives NOT during my period but whenever I feel I am not getting my way. Whenever I am being bullied. When I am adjusting or accommodating and it is during my Period that I can’t control her..I can’t shut her up or console her and let her know it is all going to be OK.

Devon wants to be 5 years old forever…not sure why..she had no power then and she has no real power now but to drives me crazy and forces me to follow the truth.

Oh, there is is…Devon is my truth slayer…not too many people like Devon very much…thus me..but I suppose I’ll have to keep her…I was considering sending her off and making a ceremony of it…but…will that mean I am no longer truthful? I fear that may be true. But truth is dependent on the beholder.

Devon—she wants me to get Botox and look HER age but I am trying to explain that isn’t necessary to be HEARD. and she is challenging me but..I win out. The Older Devon. With her crazy hair pulled back and cream on her face to help with wrinkles says NO…not again…been there done that and that will be a lie for ME…this self…so we have to pass..we have to find another way to have great skin and not resort to Botox toxins…

Devon is pondering it…she is walking back and forth on the back yard with her pocket knifes on the ready and shaking her head …she is talking to herself too…to who is she talking to I wonder…To her older self I suppose…to me…

I’ll listen and let her speak her mind and then we will sit outside and check out the stars together and know we are sleeping under the same ones only a blink away.

Night Night Devon….

XO s


Time heals

After leaving my Dr. appointment where my freind mentioned to her assistant how I USED to have a slamming body…I walked out…aware of how deflated my boobs were and how their power is not in me anymore but it was fine…there are other powers at play.

I walk past a jewelry story and I see it says it fixes watches. I walk past and think about time and how I once found an iPhone watch on the beach and then lost it myself. How I had a Rolex but I cracked it and how that is a good watch and maybe I should fix it..

It is time to keep time I think. I return to the jewelry store and apologize for interrupting and ask if they fix watches. The female customer at the counter has a bow in her hair and she says HI.

I know her…I say Hi and slowly it comes to me…she is Nika’s friend…she taught me a ballet barre clas at iron flower when it was on Biscayne….Rolodexes of time spin by.

I start to chat and we catch up and I learn her and Nika haven’t seen each other either. And then i let her know i am looking for a studio for my piece and she says she has one….we end up going to her home and her house and her studio and her room of her own and I recall mine..the one I fought for that I lost along the way again…slippery little thing she is

I say goodbye only to see her at the grocery store and as we shop the decade between us is established…the same story a different time…my kids can babysit hers.

I leave…go home – unload the gorceries. Get an email with scripts for a reading on MOnday and in it I am playing a grandmother.

It is funny…how quickly time passes…soon I will be one and think on versions of myself…in the grocery store and no matter how much Botox I don’t get and how big my boobs aren’t time is fleeting dreams are screaming and I need to get on it..

I call steve —I try and explain…he cuts me off and then says he shouldn’t have and is working on that…

I am shocked.

I am quiet..

He is working on not cutting me off..

I ask him what he would do in my position and he says rent a room

I text my freind who runs a dance studio about renting her space for my our rehearsals…

A room of my OWN is relative…it is elusive and it is not entirely MINE….it is fluid and it was at the coffee shop yesterday with my students.. the jewelry shop today with an old acquaintance..and tomorrow that time alone will be with my friend at the Beach…

And so it goes my younger selves…