I got the email a month ago about the Father’s Day special on the Moth Radio Hour. My story “The Detour,” would be featured, it said.
I wasn’t sure exactly what to feel.
At first, it brought the heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping, and rubbery-feeling of post performance that I had five years ago when I got up on that Moth Stage. The story slam was incredible. Packed house–they laughed, they gasped, they erupted in applause. I’ve never felt anything like it.
But I also felt the familiar nausea that comes with over-sharing, especially when it comes to my religious beliefs. I will tell you about embarrassing bodily functions all day, but Mormonism–please, don’t ask.
This is also, by far, the worst Father’s Day present for my poor attention-adverse dad. And my ex-boyfriend–well, c’mon. I would be heartless not to worry about him a little, too.
So I am so happy and pleased and feel like my storytelling chops have received a hearty slap on the back. I want to shout it from the rooftops.
AND then go crawl under a rock.