The door is open

It’s time to step into the world

Every experience, test, and choice has lead you to this moment

Don’t hold yourself back any longer

This world needs your magic

Stop letting self limiting belief and illusion cloud you

Stop letting the ego and idea of yourself keep you from your vision

The healing you needed is here

You have concluded the race

You have the courage and the ability

Believe it is yours and nothing will stop you.



Never before
Did I love myself more
Even though my heart pleaded no
I cant deny what I know

Like mind and body
Could have swallowed me whole
All the ingredients for greatness
I was at the tip of a diving board

No water would catch me
No matter how long
No matter what pressure
I placed on the watering hose

I can’t continue to reach for a hand
Or a heart that isn’t mine to hold

I deserve more. pexels-photo-2067122.jpeg


Burrough’s message, however aggressive, is raw and sincere. As a Codependent in recovery, I know the art of being too nice and keeping someone around just to have someone around.

As my healing has progressed, I have gained confidence and love of myself. Flippancy has become less and less prevalent.

Listen, If I commit to you, I’m all in. I’m invested. I want to see you reach your highest potential. I genuinely love you and want to see you at your happiest and healthiest. I cannot be this type of friend or partner to a large number of people.

Dating around has become difficult, because I can’t invest in getting to know and develop an emotional connection with more than a couple people- tops. At this point in my life, my energy is too precious for spaceholders or blaze.

-Maybe you’re so afraid of having no one, you keep friends that don’t really match your values. “Oh, I’ve known this person forever. We’ve had such good times together. They have been such a good friend to me.” Yet you keep someone in your energy that currently mistreats you.

-Maybe you placate people that you don’t like deep down to save face.

-Maybe you blindy agree to whatever people in your life do or want, irrelevant of your own needs or wants. You accept literally anything.

-Maybe you entertain a lover, because you like their attention. Yet, you don’t genuinely care for them. Maybe you know they care for you, but you give them breadcrumbs so you can have their attention whenever you’re feeling low or no fish are biting that you really want.

-Maybe you’re trying to make someone love you, who could not care less.

Love yourself more. The above is two faced. Its fake. How can you give what you really care about quality attention if you’re giving energy to what doesn’t?

Its okay to be selective. Have a curated life. Be confident enough to grab a hold of only what you really want and okay if it doesn’t grab back. Its also okay to say no or change your mind.

Fuck ambivalence.




Most of my life I have hid myself away. I dumbed myself down. I didn’t speak up. I cared more about saving face than speaking my truth. I said yes when I meant no. I avoided confrontation. I couldn’t handle the possibility someone didn’t like me. I did what I thought was acceptable or what was expected of me. I never asked for what I wanted. I didn’t even really know. I never took the time to ponder it. I looked to others to validate me. I let my own self limiting beliefs define me.  2018, I finally left all that behind me.
I am an empath. I am a healer. Since I can remember, I have been the confidant. Friends and family talk and I listen. Even strangers, children and animals always come to me for guidance, even if its just for help to find their mommy looking for them in a panic on aisle 5. The family doggo wants a belly rub at my feet. I feel and understand pain. I have held space for people to help them with their troubles. I had so many of my own, I had the ability to give the advice I wish I could take myself. I’ve seen and done it all. I’ve made mistakes and stumbled. Experience is the best teacher. We all need the space to fuck up without judgement.
I am an athlete. I am a golfer and quick swimmer. I won third in our district for women’s golf. I always placed at swimming meets. My long arms and broad shoulders gave me a powerful swing and mermaid ability. Yet, I didn’t win first place. Bronze wasn’t gold. Swimming never fully got off the ground. I was asthmatic and learned this at one of my first swim meets. I always started strong, but would eventually begin to wheeze. Instead of letting down my pride and excepting the need for the inhaler, I gave up. I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t enough. Practices and meets become too much of a burden. I eventually quit.
I am a creative. Music is in my blood. My grandfather was a saxophone player. My great grandfather a professional trumpet player. My mother played piano and did voice. I had formal piano lessons from age 8 to 11. One of my favorite sounds growing up was hearing my mother sit at our piano, playing Fur Elise. My heart danced with each tinkle of the keys. I wanted to make that kind of magic. I was in love with her triumphant grandoir and confidence when she’d grace that piano. Love seeped out my eyes when bellowed “Amazing Grace.” My mother arranged for formal piano lessons.
I learned to read music and was learning pieces from Fantasia when I quit. My piano teacher, a close friend of my mothers, saw a lot of potential in me. Like with any new skill, I made a lot of mistakes. Specific to piano, I had to practice a lot with tempo. I tended to want to speed up. She brought in a metronome to help me, but she would get frustrated. She would scream at me to the point of tears when I’d make repeated mistakes. I got to a point I couldn’t take it anymore and I quit. I regret it to this day.
At 13 I got a guitar for my birthday. My dad arranged for me to take lessons. Oddly enough, in that journey, I made a dear friend and mentor for many of my early adult years in my guitar teacher. I spent hours and hours in my room tinkering with it, blistering my fingers, tuning it and learning my favorite songs. I started eventually writing simple melodies and writing my own lyrics. I loved poetry and wrote several short stories. I have begun more novels than I care to admit. I have a propensity for starting and not finishing.
Anyway, I digress, I eventually started singing my own songs. My mother has a phenomenal singing voice, and I have a natural ability, but never had any formal coaching.
The manager of the music store where I took my guitar lessons adored me. He was so excited to see me every week. His name was Jeff. Jeff called me “Liza.” Every Wednesday afternoon, I’d cross the threshold of the store and he’d greet me, “Yo, Liza!” Eventually, one Wednesday, I told him about writing songs.
Without hesitation, Jeff pulled out a stool and asked me to play a song for him. I was nervous, but I felt a level of comfort with Jeff to share that part of myself. I started playing my song. A husband and wife walked in as I began, and watched my entire little diddy. The wife was impressed and asked me if I’d learn and play an Emmylou Harris song and my own music in a talent showcase they were organizing in Hohenwald, TN. Now, if you’ve ever ventured that far south of Nashville, its a small town-a blip on the map. It wasn’t a gig on Broadway, it wasn’t really anything, but it was a dream come true at 15. I can’t even tell you what I learned and played.  I had never heard Emmylou’s music before or had any connection to it. My love for folk and country western music came much later in life.
As I finished my set in Hohenwald, I sat down with my mother, granny and brother. All I remember was feeling shame.  I needed voice lessons. My songs didn’t really fit the genre. I wasn’t enough. Several of the other performers chatted with me afterwards and complemented me, but all I could hear was what was wrong. Where I failed. I never played again in front of other people. I tinkered with my guitar until I moved away the first time at 18. I have forgotten much of what I learned.
At 17, I was accepted into the School of the Art Institute of Chicago for Art Therapy. I remember reading that acceptance letter and feeling so overwhelmed with excitement, yet breathless. A prestigious art school thinks I’m good enough for them? They think I’m one of them? I felt a humble pride I never knew before. I qualified for a scholarship that would have covered my dorm expenses. Unlike many, I was extremely blessed in that my Dad, in all his practical and infinite wisdom, had saved to pay for me to go to college. I still would have had to take out loans.. With a very intimidated view of money and lack of understanding of finance and debt, I was scared of that reality. I let everyone in my life talk me out of going, because of the potential debt I would be in. I let fear guide me. Its the biggest regret of my life.
I am a “smarty pants.” My sophomore math teacher used to tease me as Id stay awake long enough to hear his lecture and quickly complete my homework before returning to my slumber. A 7:45 am class was brutal at that age. I always did well in school. So I did what was expected. I graduated with honors.
I earned a B.S. in  political science with an emphasis in legal studies. I went to law school. I graduated. Then, I failed the bar twice. I was lost, confused and heartbroken. How could I have worked so hard to fail? Am I not smart enough? Everyone will be so disappointed. Yet again, I was not enough. I took a job for the money, not for the love of it.
2017, I hit my rock bottom. I was tired. Tired of not being myself. Tired of not knowing what joy really felt like. I was disconnected from myself and my feelings. I was tired of being riddled with anxiety and depression. I was tired of trying to drown out it with substances, people, places and things. I was tired of feeling like a failure. I could not continue with life as I knew it. I had to change.
I began a journey that defined much of 2018. I started therapy. I acknowledged mental illness. I started talking. I got the answers to why it was so hard to focus. Why it was so hard to sit still. I learned to self soothe. I processed trauma and abuse I didn’t want to deal with. I spoke about my #metoo moments-one of which fully for the first time. I learned to see my inner and outer beauty. I learned self love and confidence. I accepted me. I stopped being so afraid.
Behind my smile, is someone who knows a lot of heartbreak. I am someone who has had to learn everything the hard way, which is the best way. It would not have made me.
2019 is a new beginning. I’m walking towards something I’ve never known before. I’m not without fear, but not crippled by it. Im so thankful to be here-to have a new perspective and second chance at life. I continue to be blessed in ways I never thought possible.
A new order has been ushered in- a changing of the guard.

8a27b0aced86961c44ccb323069b86bd.jpgImage: https://pin.it/ylu2qc6dhodvbb

A friend that never leaves
Giving the meek a voice for centuries
Fuel for a weekend
You make happy hour happy
She gives you wings
Takes your money
Bashes your brains
Her headache is all thats left in the morning

“Pour up, drank, head shot, drank
Sit down, drank, stand up, drank
Pass out, drank, wake up, drank
Faded, drank, faded, drank”

My daddy likes you more than me
Liked you so much he forgot about me
Drunken rages
Physical violence
Passed out before dinner arrived
Thank god for pizza delivery

The man that showed me I was strong
Telling me I was his “girlfriend”
Pressing his body onto mine
Trying to take what is only mine to give
Grasping my hands
Hoping I dont scream
Fight or flight
Fight I did
You did not make a victim out of me

Late night phone calls
Unannounced visits to my door
Your love for me grows with a 6 oz pour
Promises of dates and sweet nothings
I showed up
Waited for your call
Yeah you totally forgot
That was just your best buddy alcohol

Ditching your friends
Forgetting your commitments
Bullying the weak
Aggressing your insecurities
Sloppy fumblings
Forgotten unzippings
Next day trips to the clinic for plan B

“Sippin’ on some siz-erp, sip, sippin’ on some, sip
Sippin’ on some siz-erp, sip, sippin’ on some, sip
Sippin’ on some siz-erp, sip, sippin’ on some, sip
Sippin’ on some siz-erp, sip, sippin’ on some, sip”

Your love is so en vogue
What is a gathering without you?
Entire industries designed just for you
But a glass or two?
Thats good for your health!
But is it the heart what we cheer to?

You’ve broken my heart
Your brain damage isn’t cute
Swollen liver isnt enough to save “you”
The cup with a secret potion
Airplane bottles stashed in the cabinet
She robbed me of a childhood
Lost hours and forgotten faces

The love she promised is lost in the bottom of her bottle


Welcome in the Autumn Equinox

The time for Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice

Lets put our hoodies on, hats, and high boots

Prepare for football and chili cook offs

Put on those leggings from the corner store

You know you have them in your dresser drawer

It is it a trick or a treat?

Halloween candy and apple cider

Creepy crawlies and the Christmas of nightmares

Hoodies and dying leaves

Bonfires and hayrides in the woods

Dipping temperatures and ghost stories

Pumpkin carving and the Witches New Year

Time for the Harvest

Black cats and movies with gore

The most wonderful time of the year










A local Nashvillian, Eric Dulberg, is a portrait photographer with a bright soul and fun spirit.  He has a gift for capturing essence, showing his subject’s story.

Eric is a traveler, having been to the Philippines, Ecuador and planning to travel to Ireland in the coming year- searching for a story never heard before.

As part of a project towards his degree, he printed a book, Nashville Natives, capturing many of the stories of  unknown Nashvillians. The book is filled with captivating portraits, connecting audience to a common thread of humanity. The portraits are accompanied by a story supplied by the subject. The book opens with a character, named Chance.

Chance is a heavily tattooed older gentleman without home, having faced the harshness or war and confinement. He came to Nashville from the west coast and served in the Vietnam War. His life hasn’t been an easy one, but life has awarded him the wisdom that, “…it doesn’t matter who you are or where you live or how much money you have. What is important in life is to look after each other.”


Another character, Raymond, with kind eyes and warm smile, told Eric of his time in Vietnam and memories of Shania Twain, especially of her humility and gentleness.


Every person has a story. To share your story is sharing a little peice of your soul. Sharing a smile ties our journey to the whole of humanity.

The book is available for purchase at www.ericdulberg.com and benefits Shower Up, a local non-profit providing showers for the homeless.




People come and go; relationships, lovers, and friends. Not all destined to stay forever; some only for a season.

Is it harder to fight the good fight or suffer an abrupt ending?

Connections are rarely instant. Relationships are built over time, brick by brick. Years of experiences, secrets, and laughter. A foundation is built. Then Suddenly, something happens.

You don’t talk as often. You stop thinking of that person as often. Your exchanges center around “catching up.” Your dates get forever rescheduled. The common thread that ties feels broken.

Discussions for closure. Forgiveness granted. Love is no longer alive.

With every passing day, the pain subsides. That love that felt so strong fades a little more with the lick of the light.

The instant connection. A fated meeting, a spark inside. Life stories shared and passion to ignite. This thing feels so real and live. How could it have been known that this would be the last time?

The ghost that haunted, now missing in the night. No cataclysm. No explanation proffered. No reasons as to why. Just gone- leaving only sadness inside.

A slow ending allows for grief. It allows for explanation. It allows for analysis of why.

An abrupt ending leaves questions. A story not finished. Nothing to work through.  Nothing to analyze.

Escaping robs of the proper goodbye. A pain to sit with. No option left, but to accept. A hollow hope the love will slowly wither, to eventually die.