LOUDER GIRLs Just Wanna Have Fun

I Was a Little Adult — Now I’m a Big Kid

How growing up too fast taught me responsibility… and how I’m unlearning it to reclaim my joy.

Look up the personality traits and coping mechanisms of the eldest daughter of an alcoholic and you’ll probably see my photo. 

I was born to a 23-year-old father and 20-year-old mom in Pensacola, Florida, where my dad was stationed as a navy pilot and an officer. Fourteen months later, my sister was born. 

In 1967, we moved back to San Diego when Dad left the Navy. I was four. My brother was born in 1968. One thing stayed constant: my dad’s alcoholism and the chaos that followed.

Dad had 19 careers—stockbroker, owner of a junkyard, performer/artist/writer, real estate broker, glazier, etc.

We visited Hare Krishna temples and communes. We went on a trip to Oregon to find driftwood, camped on the beach of Ensenada, and drove to the desert to find tourmaline for the jewelry Dad was making. 

Throughout my childhood, there were a lot of these experiences. I remember when I was eight, one in particular.

“C’mon, kids, we’re going on our next adventure,” Dad had said.

When Mom was in class at San Diego State University, Dad was in charge--which really meant I was in charge. I was eight.

“Get your shoes on,” he said.

I always had my shoes on just in case I had to run somewhere. My sister and brother were already running down the hall to put on their shoes.

My stomach tightened like a fist.  “No, Dad, I don’t think we should—”

“Lighten up, Michelle,” he said.

“Please—”

He was already out the door with my sister and brother running after him. I closed and locked the door and ran to catch up with my sister and brother. I grabbed their hands. Dad turned the corner onto Ingraham Street, a busy street. He stuck out his thumb to get a ride. I held tighter to their hands.

Within minutes, a white panel van pulled over to the curb. My dad opened the passenger door, and leaned in.

“Hey, Man, can you give us a lift to downtown,” Dad asked. The answer must have been “yes,” because he hopped in.

I opened the back doors to see there weren’t seats in the back, just open space. My brother and sister hopped in. I followed them. I sat on the floor near the driver’s cab where I held on to one of the tie-down rings while I watched my brother and sister roll around, laughing.

I spent my childhood as a “little adult.” I took my caretaking, strong protector, high-achieving, people-pleasing, hypervigilant, difficulty in trusting or letting go, hyper-productive, anxious, and deeply empathetic role seriously.  I carried these well into adulthood.

Life Was Too Serious to Have Fun

Instead of playing, my life was filled with responsibility. I was busy:

• Earning my bachelor's and master’s degrees and becoming a registered dietitian before age 24.
• Raising two daughters while climbing my career ladder at UC San Diego.
• Perfecting every role—career woman, wife, mother, daughter, friend—while silently battling chronic anxiety, panic attacks, and migraines.
  
  

But I Did Have Fun… Sometimes

• Dance parties in middle school with Connie K.—bumping, electric sliding, and hustling to “Play That Funky Music.”

• Riding horses with my best friend Linda B.—her riding her Morgan Horse, Tehachapi Queen and me bouncing on her Shetland pony, Rojo Caliente.

• Sailing with my high school boyfriend, Chris B., and his family.

• Mommy & Me classes, soccer coaching, Brownie troop leading, and volunteering with SPRITES.

• Girls’ trips to Julian, Idyllwild, Mission Beach, and Las Vegas for our 40th birthdays.

• Learning to surf with BJ.

• Embarrassing my kids by dancing in the grocery store or spastically waving out the car window at school drop-off.

• Dancing with David—wild, uninhibited, arms flying—until he gently suggested maybe we dance at home to protect the other club-goers.

The Longing That Changed Everything

• Something happened in my mid-40s. It wasn’t one moment—it was a longing for the childhood I never had.
• My upbringing made me strong, alert, resilient, and empathetic and helped me to become a great mother, successful leader, good friend, and human being. But I wanted play, joy, curiosity, imagination, and make-believe. I wanted to learn for the sake of learning, forgive easily, and feel free. 
  
  

How I Play Now (and I Don’t Apologize for It):

• Got three tattoos and my nose pierced
  
  
• Donated every pair of buttoned or zippered pants.
• Embrace tie-dye and patchouli.
• Sing Whitney Houston and Jason Mraz at full volume while making dinner or doing the laundry.
• Dance like no one’s watching.
  
  
• Channel Lucille Ball.
• Say inappropriate things and laugh at myself.
• Swing on swings, jump in puddles, boogie board.
• Ask a million “why” questions like a toddler.
• Getting my very own dog, Buddy, at age 60.
   
  
  

Here’s how other LOUDER GIRLS play:

• Blow bubbles during a Zoom call (camera on or off). – Betty H.
• Play a classic board game or cards with friends or family. – Kimberly B.
• Play a sport—basketball, frisbee, soccer—anything that gets you moving and laughing.
  – Danielle S.
  
  

Your turn: What did you do for fun today?
Leave a comment. Someone else may need to see your step to take their own.

Ready to unleash your happiness through storytelling.

Then RSVP here for the next FREE immersive LOUDER GIRL webinar.

Date: August 18, 2025
Time: 4pm - 5pm Pacific
RSVP Link: https://www.loudergirl.com/webinar