Find me at www.happilytickedoff.com! I'm a produced television, magazine, newspaper and national blog writer available for freelance writing in the areas of faith, parenting, lifestyle and healthcare. Find more of me on Facebook @AndreaFrazerWriter or @happilytickedoff
Some of you may know that I wrote an animated musical about a camel.
And then I outlined the whole thing as a screenplay (which trust me – was no small feat.)
Now I’m half way through the script. I thought, in my little brain that likes comfort and routine, that I would spend the rest of the year finishing it. I even signed up for a new mentor through a writing group I’m part of to help me tease out the main character, Rose, just a bit more.
But then she gave us this prompt last week: “He said.”
WHAT???? What did that have to do with my screenplay? Nothing. Which is perfect, because I crafted something I didn’t even know my soul was begging me to write and now I’m putting my rewrite on hold for the next 10 weeks because I’ll be going back to my college days and writing a play.
I’m laughing because soooo much of my life has been like this. I think “I’m going to have a baby and it’s all going to be wonderful and easy.” Add in Tourettes. Add in transitioning. Add in some other unexpected young adult complications. And yet, when I get the focus off my kid and onto me, I find lots of gifts lurking in the darkness just waiting to be discovered – lanterns of love that are shining on my God given talents. My gifts have nothing to do with logic and fear – the things that my brain and ego concoct to keep me safe. Like my little Valentine’s decoration, they have everything to with what has been placed in my heart.
Love is the answer – always – whether it be how we speak to our children, our spouse, the world or ourselves.
It’s only in letting go that the peace rushes in.
It’s only in allowing our story to be something different than we ever thought it could be that we find magic, pain – yes – but also healing and laughter and transformation beyond our wildest dreams.
I don’t know what’s gonna become of my play, but I trust my mentor who happens to really like it.
And more than that – I trust myself these days. I trust my instinct. I didn’t navigate T.S. and transition and all sorts of other challenges to white knuckle it with a, “Phew! Almost didn’t make it!” once I landed on the other side.
I went through challenges to become better. Stronger. Richer.
And you can, too.
Until next Tuesday, hug that ticker of yours
When you can’t fix the tics, fix yourself. (Don’t waste the lessons Tourettes is showing you!)
If you’d like to join my private T.S. Support Group, click here
Every week at church we have something called Thursday Night Live. It’s essentially an opportunity for people who want to showcase their talents either locally or on zoom. As a natural storyteller, I was asked to perform something, so I wrote a song that followed a quick story about my motto for life “Everybody Wants to Be My Friend.” That motto was born from some pretty unusual circumstances regarding meeting siblings I didn’t know existed not once, not twice, but three times in my life. (Want more detail? Watch the link below.)
Was my performance perfect? No. But I made a decision a long time ago, thanks to what I learned from my good friend, Tourette Syndrome, that we can’t wait to enjoy life just because something feels uncertain or has no direction. We just do the best we can.
Newsflash: Nobody knows what they’re doing! Hence my song based on my second motto for life.
Nobody Knows What They’re Doing
You can watch it here. It begins around the 18:15 mark!
Want to perform something for us? We are an open and affirming church – all are welcome!
Email me Andrea@AndreaFrazerWrites and I’ll put you in touch with our music director. Why not step out of your comfort zone and connect to something greater than yourself!
For My Tourettes Mamas!
With the holidays fast approaching, don’t forget that you are the perfect person for your child. You don’t have to have all the answers to experience joy, love and laughter. Your happiness starts on the inside, not the outside circumstances like tics, so choose your attitude wisely.
And when you can’t fix the tics, fix yourself. (Don’t waste the lessons Tourettes is showing you!)
If you’d like to join my private T.S. Support Group, click here
Photo shot yesterday during an impromptu lunch with Evie and myself after a loooong day of work for us both. Stinkette still is doing her independent thing, and I miss her, but I insist on joy as she lives her best life and I do the same. Everything’s Unfolding Perfectly.
My older daughter (formerly Stink) recently moved super far away. OK right across the street. We don’t see her very much, and while that’s because she’s chosen to be more independent, it’s not always easy.
I have had enough life experience to know that nothing is forever – It’s not my business (or in my power frankly) to change what she needs to do as a 40 hour-week working /rent paying adult. (Proud of that!)
When I wrote my book, Happily Ticked Off about #tourettes syndrome all those years ago, one of the main themes was that if you can’t fix the tics fix yourself. I’m proud to say that I have lived that truth. The light on my taco Tuesday table will always shine for her but it will shine for me first – and that’s what is best for her anyway. (A mom who is happy is the best mom there is.)
Perhaps this letting go created space for God to work because earlier this evening, although she couldn’t make dinner, she spent 10 minutes on my porch talking about her day.. I kept it light, listening and giving no opinion – no criticism. ”Maybe if you were less critical when she was younger she would want to have dinner with you more,” my mean voice shouted.
“Or maybe this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with your daughter’s path so stop trying to fix it,” my soul piped in.
Trying to figure things out is just busywork to keep me from feeling my pain. So I had a good cry and then ate a taco.
Here’s to parents of older kids. Don’t let them break you – they are just growing up. Parent yourself. Be good to yourself. Trust the journey. For them and for you.
Everything’s Unfolding Perfectly.
And for my Tourettes mamas, remember: If you can’t fix the tics, fix yourselves!
If you’d like to join my private T.S. Support Group, click here
For over a month I’ve been on a long term gig teaching sixth graders English at a low income school not far from me. I’m not gonna lie – I’ve been having a blast doing it. The school has this total 1950’s vibe with the checkered tile linoleum, old school phones, honeycombed bathroom tile and walk-up bungalow classrooms. Each day, while collecting the breakfast carts, I collect some amazing stories.
The kids are old enough to understand some of my life lessons (“you’re not in charge of adults’ emotions – ever – find someone safe to talk to!”) but young enough to be freaked out about the six foot sub in the checkered pants who says she’ll add ten points to every missed assignment so they’d better hop to it and finish their essays. (Um, I don’t have a Masters in teaching. I know how to lesson plan and grade about as efficiently as my spoiled pit bull staying off my bed, but they don’t know that, so shhhh.)
Lest I come off too cavalier, my non-English speaking kids are not as easy to manage. Just last week four kids ran out of my classroom. I only knew it because as I was going over individual student’s essays at my desk, I happened to glance out my window to find mops of black hair bobbing just over the security screens.
I suppose I could have been furious, but I found myself laughing. It’s sort of my new thing these days – to not take things so seriously. My spirituality is less “go to church so you don’t die in the fiery pits of hell” and more “If God resides within all of us, then the divine in me connects with the divine in you, which means… I’m really a part of everyone so who am I to judge?”
This philosophy might sound woo woo, but it helps a lot. I see God very simply now: where there is peace, so is God. (And apparently there’s no peace throwing tantrums over what isn’t. It’s much easier to accept what is and make adjustments.) Ex: When a student who doesn’t speak English is talking back at me, why get annoyed? Aren’t they my mirror? And if so, then how can I not see myself in their eyes? Have I not often found myself talking back at someone in anger?
When one of them grabs extra honey buns at the “share table” and doesn’t say thank you, can I not relate to swiping extra food or attention from a place of greed or fear?
And when someone leaves my class to frolic with a friend in the ivy outside my window, can I not relate to the very need to escape some of the less than exciting circumstances of my life – especially the past two years? (Covid, a kid transitioning/moving out of my house, age related changes, etc.)
I used to feel bad about not getting a real teaching credential – instead remaining for the fifth year in a row bobbing on the water of subbing – but in truth, my days slogging it out for a public school system have been the greatest credential I could ever have graduated with. I have discovered that going wherever that robotic sub system sends me and beaming love at everyone I meet (yup, I beam… it’s another one of my spiritual decisions… plus being so tall, I’m practically a light house anyway… a big boobed ocean building) I am learning more about how to drop my ego and lean into God’s will for me than anything I ever knew possible.
Tonight, over tacos, I was telling Rex and Phia that I ended up getting an extended gig at my current school. It was kind of cool, because at first I was going to miss the extended combat pay by 2 days (that would have sucked.) But then they said maybe they’d keep me through Day 20. And now they want me well into October.
While the extra pay is great, more important in my book is that I absolutely surrendered the outcome. It was going to be what it was going to be. It was going to land where it was going to land. Instead of manipulating the endless possibilities of extra pay vs. not, I stopped playing chess in my mind and instead focused on the duties at hand: how can I be of service every single day? How can I love what is instead of what isn’t? It’s such a simpler, not to mention more fun, way of living. (Plus I heard from a producer about my Christmas movie. It’s been sent to four people – fingers crossed this sucker sells!)
Bottom line: life can be so wonderfully surprising if we let it. In a world where we can’t always predict the future, I offer you the more exciting and fulfilling path: beam love, see yourself in everyone you meet so you can have compassion for them and yourself and always eat tacos. Like tacos, life falls apart sometimes. It can still taste delicious.
And for my Tourettes mamas, remember: If you can’t fix the tics, fix yourselves!
If you’d like to join my private T.S. Support Group, click here
It’s Tic-O Tuesday – week 2 of Stinkette not in my home. Week 2 of less tics and less sounds of her laughter streaming from her bedroom as she chats with her girlfriend over Discord.
I can’t say I’m thrilled about her absence. It’s not like she left because she got a scholarship to Harvard for computer design. The fantasy of who I thought she would be (a “HE” – let’s start with that small fact) is not what I expected. But at the same time, God didn’t ask me to take over for Him. Last I checked I’m not a mind reader, a fortune teller. And, um, it’s not like I’m exactly a New York Times best selling author (yet). I don’t get to decide what is best for my kid – I can barely decide what’s best for me!
So with my head fully extracted from my butt, let me also add that while I do miss my sweet child, I’m also incredibly grateful for the silence. Two years of wading through this particular phase of Stink’s development has been tiring. It’s lovely – we’re talking paradise – to have some peace and calm in the home.
If You Love Them Let Them Go
I realized over a year ago that if someone doesn’t want to be overly involved in your life, or if their attitude doesn’t jive with yours, the most loving thing you can do is to set them free. Why should I be the one that she has a reason to complain about? How about I just let her do what she wants and be here with open arms when she’s ready to move back? (Or, if that idea is a bit of a stretch, how about I at least fry up enough shells that should she want to have dinner with us we’re ready to go?)
The bottom line (achieved from over 7 years of diligently practicing a spiritual program): No one, not even my own child, will keep me from experience the joy that is mine for the making. Being sad when things don’t turn out as I expected is normal, but not being able to sleep out of worry, thinking I’m single handedly responsible for her happiness/self-esteem or being devastated over every single non-returned email or phone call is not motherly love. It’s co-dependency, and I’m not playing that game anymore. I suck at athletics – and this particular back and forth sport has proven to make me a loser again and again. (I’ve always been picked last at gym, so why I think running to the front of the “I can make everything better” line is going to end well for me I don’t know.)
Loving my child so much it hurts is part of being a mother. But letting a child keep me from experiencing all the juice life has to squeeze because they are willfully choosing a different path is enmeshment. And who says, by the way, her path is wrong? I had to experience a lot of dead ends before I was willing to stop being a victim and take the reins of my own life.
Today, despite the heat (oh my God it was so HOT) and despite a long day of work with my non-English speakers who, for the record, I still Me Gusta Sus Caras, I made time for my animated movie. (Act 1 done, Act 2 well on its way. Yes, same camel script. The musical was complete, and a lovely mentor writer loved it, but the whole outline had to change, hence the do-over. You might say I needed to make it a better 3-hump-structure!)
I took a phone call from a producer for my Hallmark script (fingers crossed it sells!)
I indulged in some lovely boba therapy with Evie and laughed with Rex as he stirred the taco meat and I played Christmas music because, well, 110 degree weather feels a bit less exhausting when “Let It Snow” is booming through Alexa.
And while I will always miss my little Stink at the table, I hold out hope that she’ll be back one day to eat with us. (She’s only right across the street – sheesh!) But at the same time, I have absolutely surrendered whatever the outcome of that hope is. Stinkette gets to choose what she does with her time with zero manipulation or begging from me.
And I get to choose mine. Do I cry sometimes? Of course! But then, with those tears gone, I welcome the new experiences. I choose love and laughter and tacos with rubber mariachi ducks. I choose ridiculous pit bulls and obnoxious middle schoolers and videos of camels. I choose holiday music in September and Shabbats on Friday and church on Sunday. I choose sobriety over mind-altering substances and absolute refusal to look at life through a negative lense. I’m putting on my heart glasses, as my friend Laurie likes to say, and choosing to look through life through the lense of love.
And today, friends, you can choose it also. May you make the decision to enjoy your life. Don’t let heat, cranky kids, stalled careers or less than ideal mate’s (or no mate) keep you from rightfully experiencing the magic that is part of your every day life. Someone out there is praying for the stuff you’re so busy complaining about and being miserable over. Pass the tacos and pass the joy – life is so short. Ole!
And for my Tourettes mamas, remember: If you can’t fix the tics, fix yourselves!
If you’d like to join my private T.S. Support Group, click here
After bailing out of getting a Masters in Teaching to spin in the ever constant of vortex of writing after school while subbing full time and coaching high school seniors on their college essays, it is with true irony that I found myself absolutely loving my current long term gig: teaching sixth grade English.
I am at a school quite dilapidated on the outside, but overflowing with trees stem to stern on the inside. Every morning, lap top in hand, I find myself strolling through what can only be described as a teacher’s treehouse: oak trees, birch trees and pine trees, all intermingled in green leafy goodness.
The scene is the perfect metaphor for most people I know: old and a bit dodgy on the exterior, but take a few moments and the interior will blow you away with a garden of stories and overflowing life.
One of my favorite classes is the non-speaking English class. It would be easy to be intimidated by the lack of speaking skills, but humans are humans. 90% of them speak Spanish, and they laugh as I attempt to articulate my great appreciation for their willingness to let me practice my Espanol. “Tengo muchas palabras en mi cabeza!” I will progclaim which, translated loosely means, “I have many words in my head.”
At six feet tall, I’m a good six inches over most of them, and between the hoodies and the masks, it’s hard to tell if their huge brown eyes are squinted in laughter or disdain, but, honestly, I don’t care. I made a decision a long time ago that absolutely everyone I meet wants to be my friend – that the divine in me will connect with the divine in them. I often share these spiritual truths with them in my broken Spanglish. It might be a lot for 9am, but worse case, there’s Fruit Loops.
Side note: Originally I bought the Family Size Pack (see above) for Stinkette’s new place. She’s doing the whole pad up Halloween style, so what could be more perfect for my spooky-loving, queer half-adult than Halloween Rainbow Pride O’s, but she turned me down via text. “I can’t eat it. Gelatin,” she reminded me. (I don’t know if I trust her logic. This kid would rather spend $1300/month in a rented room across the street than live with her mother, but I digress.) My point: I brought them to school and they were a HUGE hit with my English learning kids.
“I want more!” Carlos politely informed me. I smiled back. “Excellent words, but say ‘I would like more please!'” which, of course, he did and was rewarded with a handful of marsh mellow ghosts and bats – gelatin and all!
Seeing these kids every day remind me of how it used to be with my own kids: repeating the dates, repeating the words, not sure if they are understanding my phrases but knowing from their body language and laughter that they understand my heart.
“Me gusta su cara” I always tell them each day. “I love your face.”
If you think about it, isn’t that what we all want to hear? That our faces – all individual – were created by something bigger than us and worthy of love? That nothing we do can separate us from that divine love?
As I watched Evie tonight after tacos doing her college work, I whispered to her, “Me gusta su cara.”
I looked at the greedy pitbull under the table, hungry for my ridiculous tacos, “Me gusta su cara.”
I looked in the mirror and reminded myself, “Andrea, me gusta so cara.”
And when I looked at my Stink’s empty room, I reminded myself that she might not look like the old Stink I once knew – now with her long curls and slowly transforming feminine body, but I smiled at the image of who she is now. “Me gusta su cara.” I love her face.
And I always will.
And for my Tourettes mamas, remember: If you can’t fix the tics, fix yourselves!
If you’d like to join my private T.S. Support Group, click here
Hooray for Simple Family Dinners (And Fiesta Ware. It even makes MY cooking look good.)
Summer is almost over.
I signed up for a Masters in Education – for the 3rd time.
I backed out – for the 3rd time.
I broke my toe.
I got a hemmoroid.
I dealt with some skin cancer.
Stinkette – my sweet Stinkette – is moving out of the house.
My youngest – Evie – she’s starting college and work at a preschool. (WHAT? Impossible!)
As of late life has felt like one giant taco bar of add-ons I would prefer to return. How did the years go by so quickly? Was a I good enough mom? Are my babies going to be okay? Am I nuts to head back to the sub pool for the fifth year because maybe, just maybe, this year my animated movie will sell and I don’t want to be tied down with papers and politics?
People, I don’t know the answers to what will be. But I do know what I don’t want. I don’t want a job that sounds good on paper but will make me miserable. I don’t want to spend any more time regretting some things I can’ change. I want to look at what IS working (a Hallmark script on spec that some producers think they can sell! Hooray!) My health. A solid marriage. A ridiculous dog that acts like George Clooney arrived at the door every time I come home.
I can spend my days in worry, but that’s not unlike a rocking chair – going back and forth but going nowhere.
Instead, I will be happy for the little things. Soft taco shells frying in the pan. Costco dishware that makes my simple abundance look inviting and fresh. My family at my table (minus Stinkette who just got promoted at Starbucks! She’s doing so much better!)
When we can’t change the tics and the things around us we can always change ourselves. And for me, it’s one giant YES to life on life’s terms. Everything’s Unfolding Perfectly.
If you’d like to join my private T.S. Support Group, click here
A High School Classroom I subbed for yesterday. All seniors ditched. More time to write!
Tonight both my sister’s and my last baby graduates high school. Since both graduations fall on the same day, we will not be there to cheer each others’ kids down the field.
Instead, we’ll have a small gathering on Friday night where we’ll bring our almost two decades of parenting/exhausted bodies and raise a toast to our young adults. “Congrats, kids! You somehow nabbed a diploma in spite of weekly covid tests, quarantining, canceled musical performances, school shootings, the threat of war and rising above more than a few Tik Tok challenges. Such challenges include, but are not limited to: knocking one’s mom over the head with a clutch purse while driving, vandalizing public school bathrooms and slapping one’s teacher on the ass.”
(As an educator myself, I somehow dodged that last bullet. Then again, I’m six feet tall and carry a shark backpack larger than a Petco fish tank. If someone slaps me on the ass they’re getting walloped by a patent leather mammal and getting sat on by 180 pounds of mid-menopausal DFWM: “Don’t Fuck With Me.”)
I was put in charge of the cake and the appetizers. What better than a Costco sheet cake the size of Texas to announce in primary blue and green, “Congratulations Graduates 2022!” I had half a mind to tell the baker to change the wording to, “Congratulations Parents 2022!!!” because the past few years have been about as serene as vacationing in boot camp.
There have been so many changes, so many transitions. People have moved, lost jobs, switched careers, switched spouses.
In my case, transition came in the form of my son (Stink) becoming my daughter (Stinkette). None of these things are good or bad. Like change, they just are.
I put the shrimp in the cart and took note of the odd pair they made – kinda like the past two years: sweet and rich, fishy and stinky, side by side.
I decided then and there to celebrate my own graduation from living in the fantasy of what I thought I wanted, to the embracing the reality of what actually IS. Change happens, but we can choose one constant to center us through it all: Love.
Congratulations Parents, 2022!
Everything’s Unfolding Perfectly
If you’d like to join my private T.S. Support Group, click here
This time last year I thought I was going to be a book coach. I wrote a tiny calling card book, “WRITE LIKE A MOTHER.” The vision? People would devour it and in a fit of unbridled inspiration and hire me to help them craft their business or non-fiction book.
It’s a great business plan except for one problem –: I’m not a coach – I’m a writer. And finally, I know it.
Not sure why it took me 52 years to get this – to stop hiding behind distraction that masquerades as authenticity, but late is great. I picture God laughing at me, clucking at my tantrumming fear and ego and… when I ultimately surrender… breathing a sigh of relief. God: “Ah, sweet defeat and demoralization. Now we can begin.”
In my animated movie script, my lead, Rose, is a vapid camel who wants to shirk her true gifts and cower behind her vapid belief structure of instant gratification and humor. But for this camel to truly be free, she has to do the one thing she is afraid to do: She must embark on a grueling quest to find an oasis in the desert with water that satisfies not just herself but her entire community.
She must stop blaming and shaming others.
She must stop waiting for some other day to find serenity. Some Day is not a day of the week.
The real takeaway: She must stop talking about it – she must take the steps and DO it. My mentorship at Story Summit is teaching me the same skills: less talking, more action. I’m so grateful to Tab Murphy (writer Hunchback of Notre Dame, Gorillas in the Midst, Tarzan, Atlantis, Batman Animated….) and my sweet, triple humped Rose. Both are my daily reminder that when you become who you are truly meant to be, not who you think you are supposed to be, your brave act of transformation radiates to everyone around you – encouraging them to be their most authentic selves, too.
(You might have to spit and swan dive into some muddy watering holes along the way, but ultimately, it will all work out.)
The other day I decided it was a great idea to move Grandma Stella’s China cabinet.
By myself.
As if in slow motion, the shelf which housed some of my favorite momentos – from her 1940’s egg dish to my own mom’s English tea cups that sat in her dining room bay window – went crashing to the ground.
Glass mixed with china mixed with porcelain jumped out to me as the perfect physical manifestation of the past two years: family members passing on or getting sick… my children’s transitions from my story for their lives to their very own story (how dare they be their own people!) … my childhood home being sold. All of these items I naively thought would never change, but thanks to Covid and circumstances/choices completely out of my control, I found my once long held ideals shattered in million tiny chards on my freshly washed checkerboard tiles.
Similar to my Evangelical days, I’d love to put a big shiny bow on this story with a happy ending ala, “Golly Gee, God inspired me to turn those messed up pieces into a shiny Mosaic table over Memorial Weekend, the kids helped out, my husband brought me a latte since God works everything together for good.” But that’s not what happened.
Instead, I took a broom, swept it all into a dusty pile and chucked of it into the trash can. Clank! Then I went on with my day. (Someone had to buy the toilet paper, and it wasn’t my teenagers who no, are still not driving. Nope, no shame here. I totally don’t compare myself to other people whose kids have been driving since they day they turned 16 because that wouldn’t be very spiritual, would it?)
To be clear about my quick clean up, it’s not that I don’t care about the treasures pictured above. And it’s not that I don’t wish some things were different with my personal life and my career. But I learned the past few years that wishing things were different than they actually are is about as insane as thinking that a bit of crazy glue will somehow make Grandma Stella’s Easter dish look like the same as the day she bought it at Montgomery Wards, 1957, to match her Crazy Daisy China pattern .
No. The longer I try to hold on to what was, the less space there is for new memories and beautiful momentos to fill the shelves of my china cabinet as well as my own memory bank. Either everything is happening in God’s timing or it isn’t. The first thought brings me peace. The second is pure regret. And with the world as it is, I try really hard to not Choose Door #2 anymore.
On this most holy day of the week – Tico Tuesday/Hump Day Eve – I invite you to let go of anything you’re holding onto that is no longer serves your current reality. What if your kid’s diagnosis is not the issue, but it’s your thoughts about the diagnosis that are holding you back from creating new experiences in your life? What if your strained relationship or unsure job path is not the big, hairy, scary challenge but rather your thoughts about them (grounded in coulda shoulda woulda) that are causing your heart palipitations?
Whatever items are taking up space in your head, I invite you to let your thoughts about it crash to the ground.
Sweep it up.
Put it in the trash with other crazy thinking, such as “I’m going to be a size zero by Wednesday” or “Sam Heughan secretly reads this blog and wants to take me on the back of his bike to an Outlander screening party” and let it go.
Make space for the new.
Everything is unfolding perfectly.
If you’d like to join my private T.S. Support Group, click here
Happily Ticked Off 