From Diapers to Diplomas, Vaca Ready, & Finding Me
This time in my life is sacred. And I’m finally learning to live it as me—not just the mom.
But as Erica: the writer, the blogger, the aspiring author, and the screenwriter.
The former teen mom who broke all the stigmas used her voice for something bigger and clawed her way through the fire.
42, She Chose Herself, & Popped Gold Champaign — The Birthday Glow-Up I Didn’t See Coming ✨🍾
“Setting boundaries and enforcing them isn’t rude, unkind, or selfish–it’s a form of deep, unapologetic self-respect. It’s saying,
“I matter. My peace matters. My energy is sacred, and not everyone gets access to it.”
The 90s Sitcoms Lied: Reinventing Yourself Isn’t a Midlife Crisis
“UNLEARNING TAKES GUTS. REWRITING YOUR LIFE MID-WAY THROUGH ISN’T EASY.
IT PISSES PEOPLE THE FUCK OFF. IT MAKES THEM UNCOMFORTABLE. BECAUSE WHEN YOU WAKE UP, YOU SHOW OTHERS HOW DEEPLY ASLEEP THEY STILL ARE.”
Entry Eleven: Red-Rover Days, Boardwalk Nights, & The Ones Who Believed It Was “Just My Luck”…
I recently became a Legislative Ambassador for the state of New Jersey through the American Cancer Society – using my voice, my writing, and every ounce of my platform to raise awareness for cholangiocarcinoma, a rare and aggressive bile duct cancer.
I do this in honor of my cousin, Roberto T. Rivera “Bobby” — the boy who helped shape my childhood and a man who was promised ten years to fight, but only survived 373 days after diagnosis.
I’m here to take his words, “Just my luck…” and turn it into something powerful.
Something lasting.
Now, I speak not just for him, but for every family who hears the word cancer and feels the clock start ticking.
Stay tuned for upcoming fundraisers, events, and a donation page added to The Hollow Quill ~ The Roberto T. Rivera “Bobby” Memorial Fund.
Entry Ten: Sexpectations vs. Reality: Dating in your 40s- Part Deux
“Because when sex is good–with the right person–it’s a goddamn religious experience.
And that blowjob you used to dread giving?
It won’t feel so much like a chore anymore.
It’ll feel like a gift.
One your mouth is happy to deliver. With grace and a little bit of vengeance. “
Entry Nine: Big Dick Energy, Small Dick Results: The Disastrous Shit-Show of Dating in Your 40s
“I THEN DROPPED A DEAR TRAVEL GOAL—VISITING GERMANY. I WENT OFF ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE STUDYING WWII HISTORY AND HOW FASICNATED I AM BY THAT TIME PERIOD. I TOLD HIM I WANTED TO SEE THE CONCENTRATION CAMPS, WALK THE BEACHES OF NORMANDY, AND JUST DO ALL THE THINGS—TAKE IT ALL IN, EVERY GUT-WRENCHING, HISTORICALLY SIGNIFICANT PART OF IT.
ONLY TO REMEMBER, A LITTLE TOO-FUCKING-LATE—THAT THE MAN IS JEWISH...”
