Where It All Began: A Book in Paris, a Mom with Five Marriages, and a Story That Keep on like a Tumbleweed

My mom really did get married five times. That’s not a punchline — that’s the opening credits. And when you grow up watching love, chaos, hope, disappointment, and reinvention play musical chairs in your living room, you either become bitter… or you become a funny storyteller.

I wrote Tumbleweeds while I lived in Paris. (Yes: Paris.) The real Paris, not Paris, TX. My family jokes that I'm the redneck who went to Paris and can't spit. There’s something about being far away from your hometown story that gives you the courage to tell the truth. Or run from it... And the truth was: my mother’s life was dramatic, complicated, hilarious, heartbreaking, inspiring, and deeply human — and it had shaped me more than I wanted to admit.

That book wasn’t a “take-down.” It was my attempt to translate what it feels like to be the daughter of a woman who kept trying again — sometimes brilliantly, sometimes disastrously — and to understand what parts of her story I had accidentally inherited.

Because here’s the sneaky truth: we don’t just inherit eye color and hair texture. We inherit patterns. We inherit nervous systems. We inherit “this is what love looks like” programming. And if you don’t bring consciousness to it, you’ll wake up one day repeating the same cycle while swearing you’d never be like your mother. (Ask me how I know.)

From Audition to Unexpected Destiny

I auditioned in New York City for Gavin O’Connor’s first movie, Comfortably Numb. My agent told me he was a director going places. Translation: this was not a random audition — this was a moment.

I was already in line to do a lot of things. And I also got a clear warning: don’t do the classic mistake of mixing art with attraction. Don’t “sleep with the director.” He's up and coming. You're hot. Don't sleep with him.

So I did what any responsible, emotionally creative, spiritually chaotic woman does... I said yes when he asked me to marry him - for a little bit. I was 21. We divorced after we made Tumbleweeds and I introduced him to his second wife whom he had a kid with. Bonus!

(Yes, that sentence is real. If you’re laughing, good) He read my book. We made Tumbleweeds based on one chapter. And just like that, my personal life, my creative life, and my mother’s story braided into a movie.

Tumbleweeds became a film that people connected with because it didn’t try to pretend life is neat. It’s about the mess. The hope. The self-respect you try to grow inside a storm. And the very human comedy of trying to be okay when your origin story (this is just the mom one - the dad one is my documentary!) and we're not exactly handed a blueprint.

The Part Nobody Plans For: When the Story Repeats

After Tumbleweeds, life kept doing what it does: continuing. I got married some more times — including my on main, real marriage: the one where I became a mom too and married my first love. Cute. And when you become a mother, you suddenly understand your own mother differently… and also get extremely irritated in brand new ways you didn’t know were possible.

Then came the moment that rewired everything: my mom visited when my daughter was nine months old… and my mom had a stroke.

We had to move her from Asheville up here while she recovered. My daughter is 11 now. And my mom came back about 85–90% — maybe even 90%. But those first months? I mourned the life of my mom. That kind of grief is its own category.

I drove to facilities every day. I cried every day. I lived inside a long, slow, holy exhaustion — the kind that forces you to face your own nervous system, your own unresolved childhood story, and the raw question: What do you do when you’re mourning the death of your mom… and she LIVES!

My answer, apparently, was: you do comedy. Because laughter isn’t denial — laughter is oxygen. And I needed to breathe.

The Cemetery Comedy Club (Yes, This Is Real)

My mom got caught smoking in senior housing. (Because of course she did.) So I started picking her up and taking her to the cemetery — which became a very funny inside joke. And now, yes, we go on drives to cemeteries.

Some families go to brunch. Some families do yoga. Some families do “cemeteries.” Don’t judge. We’re funny.

And here’s the sneaky magic of it: grief becomes less terrifying when you can laugh in its presence. I wasn’t mocking death. I was learning how to sit beside it without letting it swallow me.

The Rule That Changed Our Relationship: Productive or Joyful

I am a fireworks display of joy, kindness, and faith. And I come from a line of grumpy women who could complain through a sunrise and worry while being handed prosperity. Truly, I don’t know where my joy comes from… except I do: my faith. My love of God. My love of Jesus. Yeshau. The real kind of LOVE— the kind that makes you choose truth and humor over bitterness every time

Over time, I worked through the irritation and the “mother wound” layers — the places where I felt halted, annoyed, and emotionally exhausted by her choices… especially the ones I had repeated in my own way.

Then I created a hard-and-fast rule for our time together otherwise I was going to cut contact: Either we’re doing something productive or we’re doing something joyful. No endless complaining loops. No gossip marathons. No emotional junk food. Just: build something, or enjoy something.

I asked her a question that sounds simple but is actually revolutionary: What brings you joy?

Enter the Plants: The Peace Treaty (and the Hidden Origin of My Products)

Her answer was plants. Always plants. It's always plants - that's she's smoking too! My mom is the plant lady — a horticulturalist, an herbal-minded woman, and a walking reminder that nature will keep growing even after you’ve made five questionable romantic decisions.

And here’s the plot twist that makes me laugh: in Tumbleweeds, the mom ends up working in a nursery. In real life, my mom basically is the nursery.

Whenever I direct the conversation toward plants — or take her on a drive to see plants, buy plants, talk about plants (including that kind of plant, wink wink) — everything gets better. She softens. I soften. And suddenly we’re not trapped inside old roles. We’re just two humans nerding out about plants. And now my house and her house are full of plants and I don't cringe when I have to face a grumpy face that looks exactly like the mother that she complained about for too long!

Even more: her plant-and-herb wisdom helped shape the origin story of my Holy Hot Mom creations. She talked about comfrey for years — and that thread of “nature knows” became part of my own healing path and product development journey. (As always: I’m sharing what I do and what I’ve learned — and you should listen to your body and your professionals.)

Emails From My Mom: Too Funny Not to Forward (So I Turned It Into a Book)

Long before “content” was a career path, my friends would ask: “Did you get an email from your mom?” Because they were so funny, so unfiltered, so unintentionally iconic — that it became a running comedy series in my own life.

So I compiled them into a book called Emails From My Mom: Too Funny Not to Forward. And yes — it’s also hilarious to hear me read them out loud. I’ve done readings before in shows, and I’ll do them again, because laughter is a legitimate healing modality. (Also because my mom cannot help herself.)

We even went live on TikTok for a while — we grew to about 25,000 followers and went live most mornings. And because of her big mouth… we got banned. Which honestly felt on-brand.

Want the Behind-the-Scenes Mom Universe?

I have so much mom footage and behind-the-scenes content — the funny, the tender, the “I can’t believe this is my life,” and the unexpectedly profound. I’m making it available in a way that supports my work, because nothing is free and I’m building a real ecosystem here: film + books + healing tools + community + live experiences.

If you want deeper access (and a community where you can build your own story too), choose your doorway:

Either way: you’re not just consuming a story — you’re stepping into a space where you’re allowed to make something out of your own.

Filmmaker Turned Alchemist: Book Me to Speak or Teach

I don’t teach filmmaking like a textbook. I teach it like a survivor, a comedian, and a working creator who has turned lived experience into books, films, stages, businesses, and community. If you want to write your story, shape your voice, and bring your message to life — I’m available for speaking, workshops, and filmmaker classes.

• Speaking: resilience, creativity, faith, comedy as healing, family dynamics, and turning pain into purpose
• Workshops: how to write your book, develop your film, craft your pitch, and build a real platform around your voice
• Community Events: Sacred Circus-style gatherings that bring humor + truth + transformation

Follow the Ongoing Series (Yes, I’m Posting More Family Stories)

It’s Saturday. I’m posting more family ones. If you like real stories, ridiculous moments, plants, faith, healing, and comedy that tells the truth — come hang out with me on TikTok and beyond.