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Sunday, I returned home after a week at the Macondo workshop in San Antonio. I was a mess in the best possible way. Open, raw and inspired. I hadn’t slept really at all in two days.

The night before, I attended a party in San Antonio in a beautiful house on a tree lined street.

I learned that when you meet your idols, like Sandra Cisneros whose books inspired me to begin writing, it is best to be so exhausted, exhilarated and humbled that you are open yet quiet. Usually, I chatter, trying to fill space. It’s my own insecurity in vocal form. But that night, I couldn’t. My brain wouldn’t put the words together. Not that I didn’t try. But after literally calling a good friend I’d met the wrong name, due to my exhausted brain, I decided to retreat to a table and people watch.

The Friday night before the party, my two dear friends from Houston, Tejanas Cecilia and Priscilla, were at Macondo for the Cisneros reading and we stayed out until 4 am talking and catching up. I fell right back into their friendship like I’d never left Houston. It had been more than a decade, but it didn’t matter. It was so easy and true like all great friendships are. It wasn’t superficial conversation. We had all been through much in the last decade. Yet, we still laughed ourselves hoarse like we used to back in Houston sitting on the balcony of our apartment drinking margaritas. It was an adventure.

The adventure took a turn when we were pulled over by campus police a minute from the dorms that my friends had insisted on dropping me off at. I questioned the officer for his reason of pulling us over and became silent when questioned in return, I am a public defender after all. Cecilia was vocal too. But Priscilla stayed cool and collected and escaped with a warning. I joked after we pulled away that it was a warning based on not speeding as the officer’s excuse for pulling us over for speeding was pure fantasy. I knew our car had been moving slow and steady like a Texas tortuga.

By the time the officer let us go it was after 4 am. So I shut my eyes at 5 am and opened them two hours later. Groggy and exhausted, I wore a long dress with my pj pants underneath. Workshop was amazing. The comments on my pieces were on point. My class totally got me and liked me, they really liked me (Sally Field voice). I knew I had to finish my book. Then, after workshop, we had publishing seminars until 5 pm. After the seminars, I raced back to dress for the party.

Back to that party. Cecilia who is herself a Macondista, got to the party a bit late but once she walked in. I relaxed and caught up with her. I realized something about myself at parties, I have social anxiety and use alcohol to cover it up. Epiphany! I had always thought I was the life of the party, but maybe alcohol is the crutch I use to create a persona.

So sitting with Cecilia instead of a 6 pack calmed me. Then, I was able to have open and deep dialogue with her and others. I had a beer, but not six, and engaged. I listened to testimonials and cried real tears. I interacted. I even danced. Yes, I danced.

When Sauvemente came on, I started trying to do the cha cha, then my 80s girl came out and I began to smurf (side to side, one foot in front of the other and at end, lift foot and kick it back). Soon, I started to bob and dance like the character played by Molly Ringwald in The Breakfast Club. I couldn’t help myself. It was me. I was here. In the presence of people I worshipped and admired. And, I belonged.