"Good night, bud. I love you."

I say this to my dog every night when I go to bed.

I roll over, put the book of the day on the nightstand, pull the cord to turn off the light, and mid pull I mumble this phrase to an animal that has absolutely no idea what I am saying.

I have a hard time saying this to people. But not to this weirdo mutt of mine.

Kevin is a weird dog.  He would sleep all day and night if he could.  He has a bladder of steel and a bowel of iron.  We used to go on long, rambling walks through the neighborhood.  He now pees in the front of the neighbors house.

I knew that adopting an older dog would be interesting.  I didn't know that it would be THIS interesting. I love this little (42 pound, so guess not so little) furball with all my heart. I spoil him.  I buy him more treats than I do myself. I worry. He limps and I assume he's broken his seal foot. The doctor is very patient with me.  This is my first puppy love that's all mine. And I don't know what I'll ever do without him.

I dropped Kevin off at the vet yesterday as he was acting weirdly. They had no appointments, but said to drop him and they would look at him as soon as they could.  I figured it would be a while, so I went to Lowes for a mold test kit, grabbed lunch and made an appointment to get my hair trimmed, as I'm starting to look like Carol Brady. Not cute.

Midway through my lunch, they called to tell me he was okay and that I could pick him up.  I didn't hesitate. I shoved a couple more bites in my piehole and ran for the car. I got to the vet in 15 minutes, blowing off the hair appointment (Carol Brady is cute to some.)  $9.76 for his anti-inflammatories. New Treats.  A car ride home with him snuggled against my leg. We got home, and I gave him a bone and his first dose.

We went for a walk at around 4:15.  He started eating grass like it was his job. I worried some more.  I tried to get him to stop, as he started eating the tall, rough decorative grasses that lined the walkway and that cannot be good for him.  I got him back in the house and gave him fresh water and food to see if that would help.  He plopped down on the floor and began snoring.

I know he's ok. I'm just not ok. I don't know why my usually spry older dog is suddenly not coming downstairs in the morning for his walk.  I don't know why he is suddenly walking within 5 feet of the house and doing his business when he usually wants to walk to West Palm and back.  I don't know anything and it's really, really annoying.  I want to make him better.  I just don't know how.

I DON'T WANNA WALK!

A rose by any other name.

I am a nickname fiend.

My dad is Papajon, Shtoppie, Shtoop, Popojijo, Popsicle and Pops.  Also, Dad and Daddy.

My mom is Marm. Marmee. TMo. Mama-say.

My brother is Dan. Leinad. Danny boy. Pablo Honey.  Daniel-san.

Brooke is Bug. Brookers.

Kevin is Kevy-Kev. Kevers. Turd Burglar. Turdle. Stinker-butt. Stinker-Dinker-Doo. Chevy-Chev.

I may have a problem.

My truth.

2010 was a rough year.

I parted ways with the improv troupe that had been my family for 3 years. Personal and professional issues caused things to not be fun anymore.  I was down on myself as a human being and as a performer. I was anorexic.  I had gone from 180 pounds to 125 in a short period of time by not eating. I hated everything, most of all myself.

One night, I took out a bottle of sleeping pills.  I piled them into the lid, and put them on my dresser. I was crying every night. I cried that night. I sat on the floor, hugging myself and crying.  What was the point of this pain?  I felt that I was annoying my friends with my constant sobbing and rehashing and reopening of old wounds.  I was annoying myself.

I took my phone and stared at the number for a suicide hotline.  I stared and stared.

I clicked the phone number on my iPhone. The number popped up with the call or discard option underneath.

I clicked call.

"All circuits are busy.  Please try your call again later."

Astonishment.

Shock.

Tears stopped.

A bubble started forming in my stomach.

And suddenly I was laughing.  Somewhat hysterically, but laughing. Uproariously laughing.  Rolling on the floor giggling as snot and tears dried on my puffy face.

I got up.

I put the pills away.

I called a therapist the next morning and set up an appointment.

I'm better now.  So much better now.

Some people never get better.  And they are missed.

I'm not ashamed that I'm on anti-depressants. I'm lucky that I can afford them and that they allow me to smile more every day.   They helped me ignore a very bitter, angry person that I was confronted with last night during an improv show, who doesn't even know me but carries a grudge against me for some idiocy that occurred in that awful year of 2010.  2010 Lauren would have run screaming into a corner of her mind.  This Lauren smiled and let it roll off of her.

Find help if you need it.  There's only one of you, and you're needed.

You are enough.

I want to say it again.

You are enough.

YOU are enough.

You ARE enough.

You are ENOUGH.

Any way you emphasize it, start living it.

I had the amazing opportunity to bask in the glow of Sir David Razowsky this weekend.  I'm not sure he's actually been knighted, but he should be. An amazing person and an amazing teacher, Mr. Razowsky touched me, and not in a dirty way.  His lessons in mindfulness and letting go of the past were everything I needed to change me from a miserable person to be around to someone less miserable to be around.

I think.  Give me a week. Maybe two.

I was scared the whole workshop.  Scared that he'd call me out as a fraud.  Scared to go up first. Scared to go last. We went through two days and 7 hours of workshop before I finally felt like I had the cajones to just be an improviser. And it was the best moment for me. I rarely breathe in improv scenes. I'm manic.  But I was able to slow down and listen to David tell me what I needed to do, what I needed to get rid of, who I didn't need to be.  And the bullshit went away. I feel like a gentler person. I feel like a more confident person. I am enough.  I AM ENOUGH. I need to look at everything that happens to me in joy instead of conflict.  On stage and off stage.

The show was awesome. Weird. And awesome. Casey was generous enough to share David with us at the end, and the scene I was in with him and 2 other actors was about nothing but a lamp and family dynamic. It was great.  I was on cloud nine, ten and eleven. I'm still there. My day job today has been tough but I've been handling it. An irate member started yelling at me, and I kindly asked him to leave the office and come back and start again.  I handled him with joy and caring and he left smiling. It's not an easy thing to do, but it's the right thing to do.

Thank you, David. Your lessons for life and improv have done much to improve my outlook in a mere day and a half.  I am a more confident improviser and a much improved human being.

I am enough.

Is that something in your pocket, Matthew, or are you happy to see me?