Now Available...

Love Me Madly is not a book about bad dates; nor is it a tale of grief and woe about a two-year trauma Resa suffered in a small, drug-infused, North Carolina mill town in 1982. Mostly, it is about the slow, painful progress she made toward realizing how those events during her teenage years impacted how she related to men as a result. She covers her failed marriage, debilitating migraines and a slew of faulty suitors and dating disasters ranging from frightening to hilarious. Through close relationships with her children, conversion to Judaism, intense therapy, her saving grace, Alanon, and too many kayaking trips to count, she became a successful writer and editor and a woman who is finally healthy, confident and content with herself and her life.

Book Launch Event

The Love Me Madly: A Memoir Book Launch took place on August 27, 2015, drew more than 30 people, raised more than $100 in cash, plus donations for Safe Alliance and SOLD OUT of books! Yay! Thanks so much to everyone who attended for their generous time and support.

See more photos from the event

Love Me Madly Excerpts

Here is an excerpt from Resa's book, Love Me Madly: A Memoir.

---

Going to Disney World with two little kids and a killer migraine is definitely not my idea of a great vacation. I felt like I was trapped in some kind of psychedelic twilight zone, in part because the hotel we were staying in was decades-themed, and our room was in the 1960s building. Five-story high flowers in neon colors decorated the exterior; the pool was flower-shaped, and there were lots of shiny, blinking lights. The trip happened to coincide with one of the worst periods for me of migraines. I was getting one nearly every day during most of 2004, but I logged 25 official ones that month. For six straight days my head felt like someone was twisting an ice pick around inside. The medication I was taking offered no relief; its stimulating effect kept me up all night, and I stared at my sleeping family wondering how I got here, when the pain would cease, and if my husband and I would ever be happy together again.

The next morning: "We want to go on Tower of Terror and Space Mountain," announced my older son, J, who was eight.

"Well, Dad will have to go with you. I'm not really feeling up to getting in an elevator cart crammed full on people on the way to the Twilight Zone, or riding a speeding rollercoaster around in the pitch dark," I explained.

"Why aren't you feeling up to it?" he asked.

"Well… I have a really bad headache," I said.

"You just had a headache yesterday," he answered, as if that fact precluded me from developing another one.

"Yes, I know. I wish I felt better," I said. "I'm so sorry."

"But why do you have a headache?"

"I don’t know."

"You're no fun."

And that said it all. So many times I was unable to do things or go places with my boys because my head felt like it was about to explode. Medication, ice packs, dark rooms. The boys knew the routine well since the migraines had started getting worse when I was about 36, but that doesn't mean they liked it. I loved my boys so much and wanted to enjoy them, but the frequency and severity of the migraines were making it impossible. This untenable situation fueled my depression. Antidepressants really didn't work, because I always seemed to end up feeling like a zombie.

Needless to say, all of this was very hard on Michael, and while his natural tendencies were not affection and empathy, he was understandably stressed from having to take care of the boys more when I was sick. I believe he began to resent me for it. I didn't know what was wrong with me either. Why did I get these miserable headaches? What had I done to make this happen? I wasn't drinking alcohol. I only ate what was allowed on the "migraine diet." I saw neurologists and acupuncturists and naturopaths and chiropractors. Nothing helped and so I kept looking to Michael to make things all right, to somehow alleviate the agony of the dizzying series of migraines that I developed so often. Or at least I wanted him to tell me everything would be ok. He couldn't, and after years of suffering, I had to concur. I was literally drowning in a sea of pain and self-loathing, and my marriage just continued to get worse.

On the plus side, I didn't have nightmares anymore. I didn't cry anymore.

Hell, I didn't feel much of anything anymore.

---

Check back soon to read another excerpt.