the struggle is real…

photo-1429080695038-cdf6ae5dbc13This internet is full of advice for writers. Sometimes I read it and I question if the advice giver knows anything about writing at all. {side note- I’m not saying that out of arrogance. I will be the first to admit my writing is more heart/feel based that textbook accurate. I am actually pretty ok with that. As a reader I tend to appreciate and feel more with the warmth of written word over the cold and clinical.} Some advice is great. One I see quite often that simply baffles me is that to be a great writer, you just need to write. Even 5 minutes a day…

Any writer knows that to get into the groove and have your writing flow well, you need to warm up. Once you’re in that flow you need time. Uninterrupted, undistracted time to write… That seems like a lot of pressure for 5 minute intervals…

I have this writing project that feels like it. You know, that culmination of a dream and a life’s purpose… It’s that thing that random strangers have suggested, which leads me down the narrow walk way of life which feels like eerie chills and something bigger. Something more. Ironically the working title of said project is More, but I digress… With 24 hours in a day, I could theoretically pour a lot into this project. A lot of time, a lot of effort, a lot of heart. Instead what do I do? Think. Stress. Feel guilt for not working on said project. Master levels of candy crush. Feel guilt over not reading more. Pray about writing and how to get in that zone. Watch a Netflix series show.

What is it that keeps me from sitting down and going for it? Fear… Of course it’s fear. But Why? Here’s what I know… 5 minutes a day will not help me. And the only answer is to just do it… Just jump in and work on it. Let go of the distractions & fear and write.

Why is this always followed by a But…

Let us discuss…

Here it is, Conjuring week, day 3! I had some technical difficulties and couldn’t upload the actual trailer sent by the studio, but figured I would just link one from You Tube because it seems an unfair affair to be talking so much about this film and not share a preview with you… So, with that, here is a preview of The Conjuring 2

Pretty scary, right?

I’ve received a comment and a couple of emails about how it seems the actual story behind this installment seems so much less special effects and dramatic elements than the movie seems to portray. I would say, especially after the first film, that this is probably true. I don’t necessarily feel that is a bad thing. I love the feedback I receive from you guys! I truly, truly do… And on that note, have you entered my giveaway??? If not… Go. Do it. And keep up the dialogue and discussions!

Food for thought: How do you feel about the exaggeration in the details? Do you feel that things like that take away from the integrity of the actual story?

invisibility…

4aqy2crxsa8-sergio-rolaBlogging, writing, social media and all of the other ways that the current era leads us to an inevitable fork-in-the-road, are not without uninvolved people and their strong opinions. About a month ago I was virtually (as it was on the internet, so virtual) put through the ringer by people I would have consider more than acquaintances and had great respect for. It was actually two unconnected sources, over two different things, within the span of 24 hours. One was based on unfounded gossip, and the other was based on social media…

There is a saying that anyone with a pulse knows now, Haters gonna Hate… And that is just it. When those particular haters though, are more than just internet trolls, there will be lasting consequences…

In regards to incident number one- it is nothing more than immature, two-faced, drama causing nonsense. Unfortunately I can honestly say their middle school behavior and choices that followed had lasting impact on the life and course of my family healing and one day they will have to move out of 6th grade mentality and answer for that. Thankfully, it will not be to me because I just don’t have time for such sad behavior in adult women, mothers and wives…

The second incident is much more relevant. After the first incident began (and sadly, it hasn’t ended yet) I made a rash decision to make a post on my private facebook page stating that I did not care about these women’s opinions of me, and that despite the fact that my husband had been unfaithful, I still valued reconciliation and wanted my marriage restored. A couple of friends called and asked me to self examine why I had written it. It was up for less than 2 hours, I realized I had done it in a moment of anger and took it down. A woman I respected and had invited in to an inner circle of trust, (a place reserved for few) reacted very judgmentally and said some incredibly cruel things. We are no longer in contact and when she revealed her true colors, I was ok with that.

Over the past month though, I have been reflecting on both issues and my handling of them. I have had countless conversations with people about the transparency of being a writer and living as a writer in this day and age… Whenever the girls in the first incident are discussed, by my husband, he brings up my blog as validation for their pathetic behavior. My blog, which emphatically states the constant theme of these two things: 1) that I wanted healing and reconciliation in my marriage, and 2) that I was never unfaithful to my husband. When the very origin of their scheme was that I had a torrid affair, left my husband for my lover, etc- my blog seems like an unfounded contributor. Person number two also used my blog as justification for her cruelty stating that my blog was evidence that I was seethingly angry and out to ruin my husband. Also ridiculous, except that maybe people read into another person’s words, what they want to see. Whatever the case, despite these two pathetic instances, here is what I know-

-Over the six months that I have been separated in my marriage, I have carefully blogged about my side of the journey.

-There was one post where I mentioned my husband was one hundred percent responsible for our state of continued separation. My husband read it and asked me to take it down because, even though it was true, he did not want people to think he was a bad guy.

-I have received dozens of emails from women who were walking similar journeys and felt alone.

-I have connected with 4 different women who believe I helped them journey through some really awful marriage times.

-I have come to realize that being a writer, and blogger, in this day and age requires me to make a choice. I can either pretend like things are different and live in a plastic facebook world, OR I can be transparent and journey as authentically as possible.

-I have done the latter… and obviously some people do not like that, and that is ok. As incident number one and two have both taught me, there are people who live to cause drama and interfere where they don’t belong. All I can do is worry about my own stuff, keep my side of the fence clean and weeded and let them deal with their own garbage.

Connect…

hello, 2016…

If first impressions mean anything, than I suspect you and I won’t really get along too well. It is the first day of a new year, a blank slate, a fresh chapter- and I can honestly say I’ve not quite caught up yet. This place I’m playing peek a boo with, inside of my heart and mind, is not a good place to be. It is dark, desolate, isolating and in it I find myself pretty afraid. I fear that I’ve just cycled through too much these past forty-five days…

Is that possible?

One day I was on a track, complete with dreams and plans. While it’s true that some of those plans may have eventually led me to the very pedestal of isolation I currently find myself on, being separated from my husband and such, the journey would have been very different and found me significantly more prepared and at peace. I’m full of so many aches and questions and the last thing in the world that I need is a bouquet of assumptions, mocking and an empty corner. It is no secret that I do not do well with change under the best of circumstances. Over these past five weeks though, so much has happened so fast. I’ve sailed along, able to focus on the next big thing while praying I’d make it through unscathed. Each thing brought about a new wave of feeling, fears and emptiness… And now, now there isn’t a big wave to focus on. The water is calm, while the sky holds threat of severe storms approaching. In this metaphor I guess it would be accurate to assess that I’m stuck there, in the sea, alone.

I am far from unscathed…

My word for this new year is Connect.

Nearly three years ago I moved away from a cluster of well-developed friendships, some of which did not survive the relocation. In those three years I tried desperately to form friendships in an area where this task just proved more impossible than anything else. Now I’m home and reminded daily that you can’t go back. The solution, (vital, at this point) would be to connect with others. Old friends, new friends, people…

Prior to the great move East, of ’13, I was fairly connected to myself. I worked in my art and felt whole with such endeavors. In that time away I lost more and more of my ability to create. Connecting to myself, channeling inspiration and finding the journey my soul needs to go on does seem equally as vital.

Learning to connect with my kids, especially my youngest, from across so many miles, and not as someone’s other half, but as me, feels like an insurmountable challenge.

Connecting with an educational program which will lead to the need of connecting with a community to grow in my career… Connecting with things I’ve lost touch with… With me, in other ways than simply art and written word… Connecting with God, connecting with the beauty that exists every where I am- even when that where has me isolated at sea… Connecting my heart to the song of the sea, connecting my eyes to the miracles around me. Connecting my time to a new routine. Connecting my body to where it is now, and how it is now, and how it may never be my ideal- or anyones… Connecting my confidence to the line where someone else’s approval doesn’t mean anything.

Connect. Connecting. Connection.

Hello, 2016. I don’t know anything about anything other than the fact that I’m so isolated, I’m so alone, I’m so tired, I’m so parched, I’m so trying-not-to-be-terrified. I’m so dazed in my mind and so incredibly far from a place of peace… But I’m here. I’m present.

The one where Mother’s Day happens…

nQZcA7PRTyuduZPSZQ88_wanderlustI was called yesterday for another job interview. Whatever made me start applying for any and every job, I’ll never know. I guess I just felt desperate. At any rate, this job isn’t one I’d actually want. LOTS of travel and that’s just not conducive with our life. I didn’t even mention it to Chw. He’s pretty adamant that he wants me to stay home and write. I’d love that too, if writing had a weekly or bi-weekly pay check which actually paid the bills. So, I’m at a loss…

Gen had surgery last week and her recovery has been less than ideal. Before surgery she envisioned a week of popsicles, tv binge watching and ease. While I was a bit more realistic about her projected recovery, I did imagine myself with a lot of productive free time on my hands for some quiet reno projects and writing. We both couldn’t have been much farther off. She told me this morning (recovery day five) that she wished she were dead, and while I know my daughter has a flair for the dramatic, I also know this has been incredibly hard. Between the high fevers, rashes, bouts of choking on drainage from her septoplasty, which in turn deeply hurts her tonsillectomy recovery and plummets her into fits of sobbing (helping neither situation at all), it’s been bad. She doesn’t want me out of the room she’s in, and within a foot or two from her is better. She’s whiny (understandably) and in so much pain. The doctor wanted her eating soft food by day four, but at this point she will still only manage incredibly small amounts of jello, squeeze pouch applesauces* or slushies and I don’t see this changing any time soon…

(*random question/curiosity about squeeze pouch applesauce. Whats the deal? She takes them in her lunches, which is fine. When the tonsilectomy slid onto the docket I bought jars of applesauce though, because it just made sense economically. Each time we tried it, she cried and couldn’t eat it because it hurt so bad. Finally yesterday I bought some squeeze pouch (because she eats them in her lunches, we were out) and she ate it fine. What’s the difference? It wasn’t psychological because she loves applesauce in general and didn’t ask for the SP over the jarred…)

Moving on…

I’ve managed a whole lot of nothing. In the last five days I’ve:

– argued with my husband.

– gotten frustrated. (more than once)

– eaten fast food (which I hate, unless it’s Chick Fil A, which we don’t have.)

– cried.

– felt miserable. (I actually have a pretty fierce cold, though I think it’s on the mend)

– wanted to throw my phone at something. A lot. (crappy service in our house.) Of course I didn’t, and why? Because I don’t have a job and to replace my phone would cost real money.

– laughed at my daughter, a lot. Her recovery has been full of comedy. At first this wasn’t intentional on her part (as anyone with a kid whose had anesthesia can attest) but since then, her sense of humor has been amazing. When she’s not whiny. (again, who can blame her?)

– found Coke Life. Hello… AMAZING.

– Worked on our half bath. This is our latest, and possibly most frustrating of reno projects. (was supposed to be our quickest/easiest. We’re fools to think…) Mostly Chw worked on it, and I cheered him on, brought him cool beverages and occasional food and did little things. It’s ALMOST done, and I’m thrilled. Hoping, by the weekend. We’re also putting in a garden though, and so that takes priority over the finishing touches on the bath.

– watched a LOT of Friends.

– seen half a dozen Hallmark movies.

– Realized it’s pretty hard to sit and watch tv when you have a ton of things to do. Sometimes though, (these times) sitting and watching tv is the right thing to do.

All in all, I’ve learned a lot about motherhood this week. From my life of homebound (mostly) boredom, television and lack of adult interaction, but also from my older daughter. Motherhood is the hardest thing I’ve ever journeyed through, and as a mother watching my daughter (who is an amazing mother) on her own journey is proving to be difficult as well.

Maybe Mother’s Day should be less about Hallmark cards and little gifts and more about personal milestones where we as moms sit back and reflect on another year and what we’ve trudged through, and how we’ve overcome. This world is full of weak moms who hurt or lose their kids, and then it is sprinkled with amazing women who pick up those pieces and mend the broken hearted babies with love and effort. Here’s to us… We may not be perfect, or even great but at least we did something good. Even when it’s just watching reruns on tv and coercing our sixteen year old to try another sip of water…