Earth to Moon: A Memoir

Even my past struggles make sense to me—I learned everything not to do so I could do everything right for our child.

Warhol will plant a journalism seed in me. He will also defend me in his diary, which will be published posthumously a few years from now and point out a thing no one currently acknowledges but that I will feel acutely--Warhol will describe his experience of my father and privately criticize Frank for viewing me as something he alone invented, a tool at my dad's disposal. When this icon's journal entries are made public, they wll become concrete validation and confirmation of my own unarticulated experience, a tiny light in the dark that lets me start to see my way out.

In my adulthood I will come to realize I was pinballing between the outer, public fake me; the under-my-roof, family fake me; and the real me, who desperately wanted to feel safe.

One thing I was born intrinsically knowing that has never left me: life is not worth living if those I love suffer, suffer alone, or get left behind.

Outwardly, I blame everything on the fact that guys are afraid of my rock-icon dad. Inwardly I fear it’s because all guys are like my dad. No one loves honesty, directness, earnestness, vulnerability. No one loves a reader.

To feel you belong is a human need, and needs are nonnegotiable. Met needs fill you up and motivate you to keep going.

If I am honest, it's hard for me to keep my promise to myself and to Gail to hate my father and only love my mother, especially on the days Gail takes everything out on me. Instead of blaming her, I learn to blame myself. After all, I am the one who swore total allegiance to her.