Don’t call Me

This episode is a return.

To grief.

To silence.

To the shoreline that held me when I couldn’t hold myself.

It’s a story carved across Charlotte, Carbondale, Avonia, and Rochester.

Across eclipses.

Across motherhood.

Across memory.

I speak about Shiv—not as a romance, but as a soul-recognition.

About the stones I collect at Avonia Beach after dropping off my children.

About grief that rides in the passenger seat.

And the moment I stopped trying to be okay

and started building from what was true.

They didn’t forget I was sacred.

I did.

And now—

I remember.

She thought she was just visiting a cave.

But the stone knew her name.

The water anointed her hands.

And the darkness remembered her before she remembered herself.

In this episode, Em returns to a memory buried since childhood—

a dream of stairs behind a door,

a temple beneath the surface,

and a life lived in service to something ancient and sovereign.

This is not a story of seeking.

It’s a story of returning.

Of striking the stone and hearing your own voice echo back.

Of hitting your head and calling it holy.

Of washing your hands in sacred silence—twice.

Once to remember.

Once to release.

She is not here to be named.

She is here to remind you

that you were never lost.

You were always becoming.

Don’t Call Me: Dreams Between Lives

Not all healing comes from collapse.

Some begins in a room that asks nothing of you.

No story. No apology. No performance.

In this dream, I was exhausted. Unwashed. Unfiltered.

And for once, no one looked away.

He stayed still.

Not to rescue me.

Not to possess me.

But to hold his shape long enough

for me to lay mine down.

This is the moment I stopped surviving

in the presence of someone who expected nothing

but truth.

Some dreams don’t come to shatter you.

They come to show you what you almost forgot.

They come quiet.

They come soft.

And they stay.

The night before the eclipse,

I dreamed of the ones who loved me without needing to hold me.

The ones who saw me without asking me to disappear.

I almost missed the weight of it.

I almost called it nothing.

But it was already rewriting me,

tucking a knowing back into my bones:

You were seen. You were loved. You have always been enough.

Before the tearing came,

before the unraveling,

this was the first door I walked through.

This is where the remembering began.

In this opening episode, I take you into the dream that broke me open.

A wedding I didn’t want.

A weight I was never meant to carry.

A torn gown, wet hair, and the truth that stillness isn’t danger—it’s freedom.

Under the light of a total lunar eclipse, I was forced to face the roles I played, the silence I obeyed, and the lie that holding it all together made me worthy.

This isn’t just a dream.

It’s the threshold.

The place where pretending ended—and I began.

Listen if you’ve ever:

• Carried what wasn’t yours.
• Stayed too long in something that drained you.
• Thought breaking meant failing.

Welcome to Don’t Call Me: Dreams Between Lives.

This is where we stop pretending.

This is where we rise.

Some objects carry more than just weight, they carry history. They hold memories, emotions, and the echoes of past versions of ourselves.

Tonight, I pulled out a blanket. A thick, high-quality throw that has been with me for fifteen years. But I didn’t buy it. I didn’t inherit it. I picked it out on my first day at a women’s shelter, when I had nothing but the weight of my own heartbreak.

At the time, I felt guilty for taking something nice like I didn’t deserve warmth or comfort. But that blanket stayed with me. Through the hardest moments. Through rebuilding my life. Through Shakespeare classes and sociology degrees and late-night revelations about Hamlet and the art of avoiding pain.

Fifteen years later, I’m at a New Ivy League school. And that blanket is still here. A reminder that I chose to be. That I was never meant to simply suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, but to oppose them. To fight, to grow, to take what I needed to build something better.

This episode is about that journey, the things we carry with us, the things that carry us, and the moments where we realize we are no longer who we were.

Credits:

Music by Fil Biggs | Goal Getter

Find him here:

Instagram: @thelifehand

Threads: thelifehand

Website: thelifehand.com

Thank you, Fil!

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Instagram: @dontcallmethepodcast

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If you’re in a place where you feel like you don’t deserve warmth, comfort, or peace, take the blanket. You deserve it.

Not all sanctuaries have walls. Some exist in the hush of midnight, in the weightless drift of water, in the space between the stars and the earth. This is the story of a Midwest farm, a dark pond, and a moment of stillness that felt like sanctuary. A summer night where the world disappeared, and for the first time in too long, I felt free.

What’s Inside This Episode:

Rebuilding a life after divorce and trauma

The heartbreak of separation from my children

Finding unexpected friendship in a quiet, rural place

A night swim that became something sacred

The therapeutic power of stillness, silence, and surrender

Have you ever found peace in an unexpected place? Let’s talk. DM me or share your story.

More Episodes: https://rss.com/podcasts/dontcallme

In this episode, I share the serendipitous story of how life brought me back to two incredible people, Reema and Ramneesh, and their restaurant, Amaya Indian Cuisine.

Years ago, in Carbondale, Illinois, I found comfort and connection at their first restaurant, Reema’s. Their warmth, kindness, and unforgettable food made a difficult time in my life a little easier. But one day, they disappeared… no explanation, no goodbye.

Fast forward to now: After moving back to Rochester, New York, I discovered they were here too. Out of all the places in the world, our lives aligned once again. In this episode, I talk about the power of connection, the beauty of their friendship, and how their new restaurant has become an even bigger part of my life.

Listen in for a story about how the universe works in mysterious ways, how chai and samosas can feel like love, and the bonds that endure across time and distance.

Mentioned in this episode:

The origins of Reema’s in Carbondale, Illinois

The move back to Rochester and a surprising Facebook comment

Amaya Indian Cuisine: a restaurant filled with love, warmth, and incredible food

The cherished back booth, chai, and samosas that make every visit unforgettable

How Reema and Ramneesh have become family and embraced not just me, but my daughter

Tune in to reflect on the magic of alignment and the people who remind us what it means to belong.

Sometimes, the right person enters your life at exactly the right moment, and for me, that person was Ann.

In this episode, I share the story of how Ann and I met as medical secretaries, both navigating devastating circumstances and rebuilding our lives. From morning coffee chats on a rusty backyard table to Jeep rides blasting Mr. Jones on winding Midwestern back roads, Anne’s friendship brought laughter, freedom, and light into some of the darkest times of my life.

Ann wasn’t just a friend, she became family. She showed me what unconditional love and acceptance look like. Together, we shared Indian food, unforgettable adventures, and moments that reminded me how to truly live again, even when life felt overwhelming.

Join me as I reflect on the beauty of friendship, connection, and the way a single person can change everything.

Mentioned in this episode:

How Ann and I met and became neighbors

Our carefree adventures, blasting Mr. Jones and Kelly Clarkson

Indian food at Reema’s: the life-changing malai kofta

The power of friendship to carry us through life’s hardest moments

[Listen now: https://rss.com/podcasts/dontcallme]

In this brief episode of Don’t Call Me, I dive into one of the most profound moments from my childhood—an encounter in a grocery store that taught me the power of compassion and how our actions, even as kids, can leave a lasting impact.

I also reflect on how life has a way of bringing us full circle, from my experience with pancreatic cancer to a similar teaching moment with my youngest son. These moments remind us of the humanity in others and the importance of seeing beyond the surface.

Join me as I explore the hard lessons, the grace in growth, and the threads that connect us all.