Day One of the Audio Book

Not knowing what to expect today (except for little girl giddiness because I am recording at The Village in West LA where all of my musical heroes have recorded for the last 40 years), I did pretty darn good for living through the first 18 years of my life in one day.  

I read over 100 pages of my book in about 5 hours. My mom almost died from alcoholism and then got sober. My dad went from clean cut guy to counter-culture god to his first heart attack. I was born, got to be a kid, then had to be an adult way too early, then became a teen and did my best to almost kill myself. Phew.

The producers said I did a good job, and I felt good reading it all. I felt great when I left the studio, but the minute I got home, I laid on my bed and slept for an hour like a dead person. If my dog, Stella, had not needed dinner and wasn't poking at me with her cold nose, I think I would have spent for three. My god, that's a lot of life to live in one day. Holy shit.

Tomorrow my first marriage, panic attacks, cocaine, college and my mom dying.

I think I need another nap just thinking about it.

Audio Book

So, this week I get to record my audio book. I'll be at the Village Studios which is a really cool place. Everyone who is anyone in music has recorded there.  

I have no idea what to expect, except for reading my book out loud six hours a day, and probably hating what I've written, and regretting the whole endeavor. I've been worried about this the last few weeks - regret. Have I done the right thing by telling about my life? Is it too much? Will anyone give a shit? Am I just another asshole with too much to say about me? 

Ugh.

But then I think about how when I have been bold enough to tell some of my stories from my life, and they meet up with another's story in such a way that they get a fresh perspective or permission to be human, I know it's worth it. It makes it okay. It's why I wrote my book - to invite others to not feel so alone. 

But also, I have discovered, I wrote it so that I no longer feel so alone. I see that most of my life - let's say the first 30 years - was spent feeling very alone in my confusion and anxiety. 

Sharing my life now, I am inviting people into my private space. 

As I was laying in bed waking up this morning, I was fantasizing about being at the Village Studios. We are taking a break, and I go into the kitchen to grab some hot water for my tea. I walk in, and there is David Bowie. One of my life's heroes. He says hi. I say hi. He grabs a juice from the fridge, I some non-fat milk for my tea. My heart is exploding with love, my head is swirling with words, but I stay quiet. I act like I belong there, and that I'm not a fangirl from 1978; that he didn't change my life with Young American; that he kept my head above water with his acute take on teenage angst and modern life.

He smiles at me with his piercing eyes, nods and turns to get back to his work. I take a deep breath, feel my eyes fill with tears, and know that I'm once again in the right place because I am here living it.
I know that because I chose to write, something I have longed to do my whole life, I am not alone. I know that by stepping out of the shadows, I have chosen to be a part of the whole.