I'm not sure I can even tell you how much Harriet Lerner's work has mean to me. My mom sent me a copy of the The Dance of Anger when I was in my early 20's (my mom's less-than-subtle way of suggesting that I look at some issues). For the past 20 years I've read and re-read her work (The Mother Dance, The Dance of Connection, The Dance of Fear).

When my agent told me that Harriet agreed to write an endorsement for my book, I thought I was going to die. I didn't sleep for days. What would she say? Would she hate it? Would I get an uncomfortable call from my agent, "Well . . . she's not really comfortable saying anything positive about your book."

She ended up writing this:

I Thought It Was Just Me is an urgent and compelling invitation to examine our struggles with shame and to learn valuable tools to become our best, most authentic selves. Grounded in exceptional scholarship and filled with inspiring stories, this is one of those rare books that has the potential to turn lives around.

On Friday night, something amazing happened. Harriet and I did an event together: "An Evening with Dr. Harriet Lerner and Dr. Brené Brown." We talked about vulnerability, authenticity, and courage in relationships. It was pretty incredible.

In many ways, the night was not what I expected. I think I had this vision of the world stopping due to the personal enormity of the event. I pictured Steve and the kids clapping and cheering as I walked out of the backdoor to head to the event. I'd be wearing the most fabulous outfit EVER, I'd be skinny, my nails would be perfect, and my hair would say, "She's hip but doesn't work too hard." I'd be early, calm, and confident (worthy of sharing the stage with my idol).

This is not what happened. When I left the house, Charlie was screaming and holding on to my leg. He was crying so hard that his snot was all over my tights. Steve was tearing off his scrubs and putting on his soccer coaching outfit, Ellen was scrambling to find her shin guards, and I was 20 minutes late. I forgot to pick up the cleaning so I wore a skirt that was on the floor from the day before and "my uniform" black sweater.

I got in the car and immediately called Dawn. I was screaming and cussing like a crazy person. I was late, angry, and wildly afraid. The first thing I said to her was, "I'm going to kill somebody." She was great. She paused for a minute then said, "Excellent, I'll help. Where shall we start?"

About 5 minutes before I arrived, I searched to find a song that could calm me down. I was driving and scrolling through my iPod when I had to slam on my breaks to avoid a traffic jam. I was looking for something emotional, serious, and inspirational. When I slammed on the brakes, I apparently hit play and the music started blaring: "Dancing with Myself" by The Donnas (yes, the awesome girl version of the Billy Idol song).

The song scared the crap out of me, but then it cured me. In some weird and wonderful way it gave me perspective. It also tapped into my inner bad-ass rocker (and I needed that girl on Friday). It reminded me that I'm not that awkward girl waiting for someone to ask her to dance while all of her friends file onto the dance floor. I'm me, and . . .

Well there's nothing to lose
And there's nothing to prove
I'll be dancing with myself

It was a great evening. Harriet was so wise and graceful. She was also funny and totally accessible. The audience was warm and engaged (and filled with friends including the awesome Debbie who gave me the CD with this song on it). It was a night to remember!