Absence

Tags

absence makes the heart forgetful, alone, connections, life, marriage, relationships, thoughts

This is from Disney’s Robin Hood, one of my very favorite movies. My college roommate and I watched it at least 348595739323 times. Seriously.

Does anyone remember how Maid Marion responds?

All the laughs this movie has given me, this phrase sticks with me the most. Because I live this and I have learned that, for me, absence does not make the heart grow fonder.

Marriage is hard. It takes work. I do not believe in happily ever after.

I believe in love. I believe in communication. I believe in building relationships and that the roller coaster of life can make this difficult.

I don’t mind being alone. I like it. I need to be alone. I will happily slip into my own world whenever given the chance. And when I’m alone too long…it’s harder for me to go back to the relationships in my life.

My heart grows forgetful.

But, after a while, it starts to ache.

I suddenly need someone to be close to me, to love me, to make me feel loved…and I find that I don’t have the skills to make it happen.

Like I said…forgetful.

I fall deeper into a dark hole…maybe I’m not worth loving, maybe no one cares, maybe so many things. Bad things.

I scream at myself to fight for myself. To talk. To say all the things out loud. To crawl out of the dark place.

It comes down to one thing. I have to love myself enough to fight for me.

Back in my twenties, well, I barely knew me. I didn’t function well in the real world. It wasn’t a fact of traveling the path I was on…I couldn’t even see a path. All the things I didn’t know…makes my head spin.

In my thirties, I gained a bit of strength, learned what I wanted to be and where I might fit in the world. I had kids who needed me to do real world things. I finally found an independent me.

Now in my forties, I like me much better, though the self-worth problems still haunt me. But, dude, if I want something done, I’ll do it. I have places I go. People to see. I have a life, a purpose.

Leaving me alone when I was twenty-something, meant leaving a shell. I was nothing without someone else. I waited to be alive.

In my thirties, I pulled away from that.

Now, if you leave me alone too long…I’ll be me. I’ll dive into my world and disappear, happy in me, in not having to live up to anyone else’s expectations.

But my life is not just me. I chose to get married and have kids. They are part of me too. Getting married in your early twenties when you don’t really know yourself means stepping into a roller coaster car and not being able to see the tracks. You have no idea how much you will change. When I was a kid, I thought I’d hit some magic age… twenty-something…and BINGO be happy, have a life, know who I am.

Well, no. That’s the real shocker when you “grow-up”. You don’t ever grow-up. You don’t ever know everything. You don’t ever reach a point in your mental growth and say, “Great. I made it.”

And this post got a bit rambly. Welcome to my mood for the day. This should end well.

Anywho…

Absence. Makes my heart forgetful. Makes me question. But it also makes me remember to fight, for me and for the relationships that are important to me.

So I push past the forgetful, to seek out and strengthen the relationships I need to have. We weren’t put on this planet with all these other people to be alone.

 

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Celebrating My Stripes

Tags

art, be who you are, embrace who you are, illustrator, individuality, life, writer

“Wear your stripes proudly, my fellow zebras. Embrace what makes you different. Own what sets you apart. It’s not a weakness, and its just as beautiful. Believe in your stripes, slay that insecurity demon and feeling of inadequacy, and you just might find that the mustangs around you aren’t running away, but are instead running with you.”

This is an excerpt from Kisa Whipkey’s blog, go read the entire post… I’ll wait.

Great, right? She’s a fabulous writer and editor, though she’ll claim she’s a better editor than writer.

I got a little choked up when I read her post, especially that quote.

I constantly struggle with the self-doubt demon. I’m not good enough, will never be good enough. Because of these thoughts, I’ve fought depression, and anxiety visits me every now and then.

In my worry and fear of failure, I forget to recognize that all the qualities that make me ME, that make me different, are reasons to celebrate.

Here I am. A writer. Admitting that is difficult. Writing that is difficult. Saying it is difficult. Because I’m not sure I believe it. I don’t think I ever will. I never set out to be a writer. It never crossed my mind until I was 31 years old.

I was an artist. As a kid, I drew, always. My art teachers encouraged me, said I had talent. This I believed.

I went to college for an art degree (though my mom nearly had a heart attack at this). I studied the fine arts, because illustrations with a unique artistic view would be cool. If I could find my own style, push myself to be an artist, then translate that into illustrations, that would be awesome! I would be happy.

However, in those classes, I wasn’t happy. I went from the best art student in high school to just some goober in college, a kid who knew nothing of art. When my painting teacher discovered that I wanted to be an illustrator, he told me that illustration is NOT fine art, that maybe I was in the wrong place. I panicked. I floundered in my classes, not having a clue what to do… not having a clue who I was as an artist (or a person). But I stuck it out. My teacher continued to preach that we should all go on to the MFA program to go on to show our work at galleries. All the while, I screamed silently. I had no desire to see my pictures hanging on some sterile white wall with people discussing them. I wanted to help tell stories. I wanted to add line and color to words to add to the worlds that existed in books.

When I look back, I can see the writer hiding inside of me.

~So many of my former sketches are characters. I not only drew them, but filled the edges of the page with words about who they are and where they live. Other drawings are scenes from stories that I had in my head. Stories spun through my head all the time, and I acknowledged them with art. I’ve been told my writing is visual, that people were not surprised to learn I was an artist.

~I’ve always been more of a sit in the corner and watch kind of person. I’ve always looked for all the strange things in life, noticing every detail from the subtle changes in the leaves in the fall to the way clouds can form messages in the sky. Go figure detail is one of my writerly “things”. I usually end up with too much and when I critique others’ work, I ask for MORE DETAIL!

~Depression has made me face the darker sides of the human mind and showed me the depth of emotions we are capable of. I like horror. I like to explore the darker side of our personalities, of the world. The darkness that clouds my mind allows me to do this. So, although it sucks, I wouldn’t erase the shadows in my head.

I did not come at writing by the “normal” route. That’s what makes my writing unique, makes it mine. Our lives, our experiences make us who we are and lead us to where we need to be, all the while painting us with lines of individuality, filling in our unfinished places with color to make us each works of art.

We should all go out into the world confident in our place, in our colors. When I look at my stripes, REALLY look at them, they are beautiful.

So are yours.

 

 

 

Wait… It’s Been a Year?

Tags

achievements, emotional, friends, life, thoughts, writing

I began blogging one year ago.

Wow. It’s been a year already?

And. What. A. Year.

When I posted that first blog on February 10th, 2014, I had no idea what I was doing. And in all honesty, I still don’t. But my blog became an outlet for me, for all my feelings, thoughts, ideas. Kinda like therapy. Just pour my heart out on a public site, perfectly normal.

I struggled last year. Self-doubt plagued me as I stood at the edge of a cliff, knowing something was coming, but what? I could feel my life beginning to travel a new path. Weird, but that’s what it seemed like. And then things started to happen. My words were getting out. On blogs. In a book. People asked me to read their words. I was invited to join a Skype critique group.

I had two offers to publish my manuscript. And signed with Reuts Publishing.

I learned so much last year. About the world of writing and publishing, about myself. I turned 42 in December and living in the land of forty-something is freeing. I care less about what people think, I care less about what I can’t do perfectly, and I care more about trying, taking chances, being present and living life.

Over the next year, I’ll write more, some good, some bad. I can’t wait to make all my relationships stronger and meet new people. I will hopefully do a lot more CPing, because I love it. In a year, I’ll be preparing for the release of my debut book. And whoa, the rush of feelings that attacked as I wrote that…

For someone who feels pretty darn happy alone, I have to say that the people in my life have made all the difference (and, yes, most of them live in my computer… I am not ashamed). My family, Mom and Dad, my sisters, my husband, and kids, who love me just the way I am… My dear Twitter friends, who are always there to share a smile or just be crazy… my writers’ group, who push me to be my best. I couldn’t have made it through last year without all of you.

So go forth into this big, wide world and spread the joy of you. I’m certainly going to continue to annoy everyone with my form of weird!

 

On Twitter Pitch Contests

Tags

life, never give up, thoughts, Twitter, Twitter writing contests

Once again, Twitter is full of congratulations for those chosen to move on in a pitch contest. I did not enter, but I know people who did and GOOD FOR THEM IF THEY MADE IT OR NOT! These contests are fun, but a bit stressful. And can leave you feeling frazzled.

I have been in the masses waiting for announcements. I entered PitchMadness two years in a row, with two different manuscripts and didn’t get chosen, got very little feedback, but made some truly AMAZING friends. Seriously… these people!

A lot of people enter these contests, hoping to get their manuscript in the hands of the right person. Chances are low, but, hey, why not try?

Why not? There’s really no reason. The people who run these contests are simply fabulous! The work it must take, boggles my mind! They really are out there to help, to give writers another avenue to tread. Critique partners have been found, everyone swaps queries and pages of manuscripts! The support is fabulous. The offers of help make me smile! If you want to meet writers and be a part of an awesome group, Twitter is the place to be.

However, among the good, there is the blah.

When I entered the last PitchMadness, I was hoping for… something. At the end I felt fairly invisible and let down. I did NOT expect feedback from the mentors. I mean, do you know how many people enter? To send replies to everyone would be nuts! When I dutifully followed the mentors on Twitter, I thought they might follow back, but they didn’t. I felt invisible.

I knew my YA fantasy wasn’t on the top of anyone’s wish list, but I liked it. And there’s always hope. And perhaps there is a time in each writer’s life to participate in all the pitching craziness, and eventually that time passes and we step aside to let others partake of the fun.

Did I ever expect to be chosen and find an agent? I don’t think so. I did it for the experience, and with the hope that my querying days would be made a bit easier. However, I did continue to query.

A month or so after the end of PitchMadness, I had an offer to publish my ms that had just failed to interest anyone at PitMad. Then a month later, I had another offer. And as you read, possibly last Thursday or on my blog last Saturday, I signed to publish with the amazing Reuts Publishing. Through good old fashioned querying. (Well, technically they never saw my query, but that’s another story.)

So, I guess what this strange rambling gets down to is…

Really, that phrase that we want to set on fire sometimes is true. Hard work, no matter how frustrating, will get you where you want to go. A contest seems like an easy way out, but only works for a few.

So keep writing. Keep querying, whether agents or small presses. Don’t let contest results dictate where your life goes. Travel the path that works. One foot in front of the other, move forward. And when it gets difficult, come to us, your writer friends.

We’ll lift you up and carry you.

 

 

Let’s Beat Depression with a Stick

Tags

depression, fight, help, life, listen, struggle, suicide, thoughts

Ami, a Twitter friend, published a very real, very honest, very brave post on her blog about her fight with depression. You can read it here. My heart cried for her. Yet I celebrated her words, the way she dragged depression and suicide into the light for all to see. We need to see it. We need to acknowledge it.

So we can fight it.

Depression whispers that no one will care how you feel, because you’re nothing. So you hide it. Depression leads you deeper and deeper into the blackness of oblivion because that’s what you deserve. And you follow it because it must be right. Depression can even urge you to end your life. Because who would care?

A lot of people would care!

I will share my story in hopes of continuing Ami’s good work. My road is different than hers, not nearly as dark, but relevant, for depression comes in many forms all of which need to be acknowledged. For I didn’t suffer from depression… I was depressed.

In 1995, I got married, turned 23 years old, and moved away from everyone and everything I knew. I found a job and, for years, simply existed. Dreams? I had no idea what to be when I grew up. No friends. No family. I had no purpose other than being a wife. When my husband came home, I became real. When he was gone, I was no one.

My job made me crazy. I hated it there. So I quit. And everything fell apart.

And by everything… I mean me.

I applied here and there for a job and nothing. My guilt at not making money grew. I was certain my husband thought me a failure. I was worthless. I cried at everything… at nothing. I would get out of bed only to sit on the couch for hours and watch TV.

My family had no clue. My husband rolled his eyes every time I cried. I had no idea of the dark hole I had dug for myself. Until I climbed out. Until years later when I could see it, that ugly stain on my past… that point in time where I didn’t matter.

Not clinically depressed, I didn’t take medication. I never saw a therapist, though I think that would have been a good idea.

I involved myself in the world and, in so doing, found my place in it.

I still go there in my head, catch myself thinking that I’m not worth anything to anyone. But not as much. I still cry, but everyone does.

When you lose your purpose, when you start to doubt your worth to the world… to yourself, find someone to talk to. Keep looking, keep talking until you find the one person who will listen.

Depression is real, and it’s a nasty piece of work.

We need to talk about it. Drag those suckers into the light and deal with them, because when you pull nightmarish monsters into the sun, they wither and die. Good thoughts, positivity, and listening can vanquish the dark. Don’t forget the magic you possess that can help people heal, that can lead people into the light.

Does Normal Exist?

Tags

finding peace, giving up, life, obstacles, panic, puppy, routine, stress, thoughts

It’s gonna be a loooooooooooooooong week.

My normal routine is far, far away. Out of reach, it seems. And I am going to lose my mind. Yes, I realize it has already been lost, but stay with me.

In December, I let my routine go. I cut loose, which means I ate a lot of candy and pie, laughed at the thought of workouts, and had a good time with my family. So the idea of the return of normality brought me joy. However, the Universe in all its wisdom has decided to keep it from me.

Perhaps there is a lesson here. Perhaps I don’t care.

 

With school starting again, I rejoiced in the idea of getting back to life. Workouts. Eating better. Writing. Then school was delayed and cancelled. The next week looked promising, then the dog got sick and other emotionally draining things… blah, blah, blah. Life spiraled into wack-o-ness.

If you follow me on FB and Twitter, you might have seen my posts about the poor puppy, who ate things he should NOT have and ended up having surgery last Friday to remove the wad of crud lodged in his stomach. Possibly, he was a vacuum in a former life.

Well, he is doing fine now. Eating. Romping. Happy. But recovering. I have a list of instructions from the vet. I have meds to be given.

And who can limit the activity of a five month old puppy? NO ONE!

I have been up for three hours and have taken the puppy outside approximately FOUR HUNDRED TIMES. Okay, not really. But close. He wants to be outside. But… stitches… must watch him… WHAT IF SOMETHING GOES WRONG?

Hello, Monday. Hello the stress of a puppy running my life.

I am incapable of dealing with things that deviate from my routine. If life goes awry, I panic. I tend to not function well. Nothing gets done. I have a plan in my mind, and, as soon as I step one foot off the path, the plan ends up in a crumpled ball, forgotten.

Hubs is out of state. The kids are home today, but tomorrow, they will be at school. So it’s just me and puppy. I can lock him in his cage so I can workout and shower, but will he mess with his stitches? I can put him outside, but is that the best idea?

I have to make it through the week. Keep the dog as safe as possible as well as try to hold onto what little sanity I have tucked in the dark corners of my mind.

Maybe it’s not the Universe doing this to me as much as me chasing what I want my life to be, letting all these external things stop me. Maybe. In a lot of things, I am a flexible person… go with the flow and all that jazz. When it comes to my life and my goals, I will give up, curl up in a ball in a corner and cry.

Maybe I don’t think I’m worth having everything I want. I don’t deserve all the things, so I allow life to get in the way. Maybe.

Sometimes.

Sometimes life DOES get in the way.

Sometimes I get in my own way.

The trick is to know which is which. To accept when I really can’t do what I want. To push through when it’s just me being… well, me. And somewhere in that mess to find peace.

And that is what I wish you, my friends. Peace. Calm. Happy. Have a great week!

Thanksgiving

Tags

life, Myths, ProjectREUTSway, stress, Thanksgiving, thoughts, writing

y head is spinning. I am tired and slightly off focus. There are so many things to do.

So WARNING! This blog might implode, explode, or ramble down strange and mysterious paths. I just don’t know! And I don’t care.

First… I have been participating in the short story competition ProjectREUTSway this month and have completed three out of the four challenges. I took a boat ride through the Egyptian underworld to bring light to a people lost in darkness.

In week two, The Morrigan of Celtic lore offered a group of boys a chance to live rather than die in a fight.

Last week, young Yori lost his mom, dad, and little brother to the evil Japanese demons known as Oni (which will someday become a NA horror manuscript).

 

This week, I am bringing the Russian rusalka, a female ghost, into a world I get to create, writing a new myth.

Last night, writing was a struggle. I revising as I went, a big no-no if when there are hopes of completing a first draft. But every sentence needed something. Each word choice felt wrong. This is a case of perfectionism. I have suffered from this disease forever, but lately have been able to set it aside, until last night. Anyway, I have about 700 words of a story that must be at least 2000 words. Not bad. I have to get this draft done today in order to keep what remains of my sanity. Usually, the story is due by Thursday night, but, because of the holiday, we get until Sunday!

Yea! BECAUSE…

On Wednesday we are traveling to my sister’s house for Thanksgiving! Oh, the family fun. The chaos of all the cousins! Very little writing will be occurring. Hence the I HAVE TO GET A FIRST DRAFT DONE TODAY. Let’s hope I’m not sitting here staring at words at 1am.

Totally stole this from someone off Twitter last night, cause… HA!

Fairy dust and wishes will be accepted all day.

You know what? I love it. I am so grateful to have this craziness be my life. I chose it, right? I am glad to have a chance to write these stories, even if they end up horrible.

I am SUPER EXCITED to see my family at Thanksgiving! I love us, we’re awesome. A little weird, but fabulous. We’ll chat all weekend about EVERYTHING. It’s just what I need to recharge and get myself ready for what’s next. Fingers crossed for great things.

There will be GREAT THINGS, PEOPLE! Believing is the magic.

As I go back to my words, I shall let go. Release all the over thinking devils and write. I won’t stress over the three pies I need to make, the laundry that must get done, and the packing. I won’t let puppy training push me past the edge of reason.

Because.

Life is a gift. I am thankful for every little moment.

 

 

 

 

The Ride that is Life … the New, the Scary, and the Blah

Tags

contest, life, magic, puppy, stories, stress, thoughts, writing

Hello, Monday!

Blog day when I search my head for what has been tumbling around in there and write about it. However, today, not much stomps through my brain. Well, I take that back. Plenty of things are roaming the darkness that is my mind, perhaps that’s why I can’t focus on one topic.

Let’s celebrate those weeks where all sorts of cool things are set to happen, when we let go of the stress and are ready to enjoy the ride. I sit here, on Monday morning, ready for the week, for all the fun, the unexpected, whatever wants to roll my way. Bring it on, life.

We have closed the pool. Whew. That is a load off my thoughts.

I have clipped, pruned, and weeded… fall yard work can be checked off the list.

I finished critiquing a manuscript last night. Yea!

The weight on my shoulders has lifted. I feel free. Accomplishment is a fabulous friend.

So I look forward to what this week brings.

Tomorrow (Tuesday), our puppy gets to come home. The kids don’t know, but he will be here to welcome them home from school. They will be so HAPPY! My excitement (he is so cute!) is dimmed by a nervous energy, and, if you know me, you know I don’t like change… it makes me a panicked mess. Do not be surprised if the next blog post is me pulling my hair out at how many messes I’ve cleaned or what has been destroyed by tiny puppy teeth.

Wednesday… let’s just take a moment and enjoy that October will be here! The beauty of fall will reach its peak in a couple of weeks. The colors. The chatter of the browned cornstalks. The chill in the air. *sigh* And HALLOWEEN! Even though my kids have decided they are too old for tick-or-treating (WHAT?) I will still find fun.

On Friday, my haunted house themed story will be posted on the Pen and Muse blog in their showcase! I had a great time writing that one. All the dark and creepy! I will be visiting their blog all month to read all the stories and see the art work.

Of course, Friday means the release of the movie Annabelle (did I spell that right?). I will see that… I will have nightmares, because creepy doll… but I will see that! Alone.

On Sunday, The Midnight Society will announce the winner of the flash fiction contest, you can read about that here https://findingfaeries.wordpress.com/2014/09/18/lets-celebrate-flash-fiction-conquered/. There aren’t many entered, so I might have a shot. *crosses fingers*

Anyway… maybe a rejection will poke its nose into the week, but oh well. I have more CPing to do and stories to revise and post on wattpad. I will share my triumph (hopefully) of that experience later.

I will enjoy what will come. I am letting the stress go, throwing my hands up and screaming in joy and prepared to laugh if it goes awry – cause it will, kids, this is life. If you stare out at a week full of the terrifyingly uncontrollable stuff, a week of exciting new developments, or a plain ol’ week of blah make sure to enjoy the ride. We only get one.

Laugh in the face of danger.

Smile at fate.

Keep your eyes open to all the possibilities.

Shine on, fellow riders. Don’t forget to look for the magic.

 

The Magic of Motherhood

Tags

babies, becoming a mom, birthdays, growing up, life, special moments, teens, thoughts, toddlers

Thirteen years ago today, I became a mom.

Pregnancy wasn’t my favorite thing. Hello heartburn. Good-bye any kind of control over my bladder.

But the thought of a baby really made me shudder in fear. I have admitted to not being a ‘baby person’. Those little bundles of crying and pooping joy cause panic to trample through my brain.

Thirteen years ago, I had never changed a diaper. I had never fed a baby. Then BLAM-O I had my own.

I WAS SCARED TO DEATH!

What was I supposed to do with him? What if I dropped him on his head? What if I DID EVERYTHING WRONG?

My mom did not live around the corner. Hubs loves babies, so he was in heaven with his new son, but soon hubs went back to work. I became a stay-at-home mom.

Day by day, did what I thought a should. My boy seemed happy. He was growing, gaining abilities (none of them super-power related – bummer). I was getting the hang of it. Of course, as soon as I figured out one thing, everything changed.

But I made it. And today I celebrate my son Logan, who is now a teenager. He is a fantastic kid. I am so proud of him, and, as much as I would love to take credit for his fabulousness, I figure most of it he found by himself.

We enter the dreaded teen years, I am not afraid. He’ll be who he is and we’ll all roll with whatever happens. (ask me again if I am afraid in a little over a year when my daughter turns 13)

I have found a happy place here in the land of older kids. As soon as I lived through babies and toddlers, life made more sense. All of us out there with kids, celebrate them! They are awesome and each day they get closer to moving out, to face the world, to add their special touch to reality. Enjoy who they are, enjoy watching who they become, savor every moment for it goes all too quickly.

All moms and dads, guardians and parental figures raise your hands … HIGH FIVE!

Cake anyone?

 

Family Magic

Tags

childhood, family, life, love, magic, road trips, thoughts, vacations

My sister and her family (hubs and two girls) are ON THEIR WAY HERE! They have quite a drive, so I’m sitting… waiting. The house is fairly clean. There is food in the fridge and fun awaits us for the next four days.

Eeeeeek!

Company is coming. Isn’t it great?  YESSSSSSS!

I grew up in Peoria, Il. and moved to Springfield the fall of my junior year of high school (yes, tramatic, but a story for another day). My dad grew up in St. Paul, Mn., my mom in Holliston, Ma.

I know everyone is wondering… how in the name of all things geography related did we end up in Illinois? My dad was sent to work in Holliston and rented an apartment down the street from my mom’s house. Cute story of boy meets girl follows. Dad got a job in Peoria and they moved.

I grew up away from all my relatives. We did not go to Aunt So-and-so’s house for Christmas Eve, head to one set of grandparents for Christmas morning then go to another relative’s house for dinner. Nope. It was us. Mom, Dad, my two sisters and me. Rarely did we ever have a holiday away from home. We had school. Dad had work. And the drive time eliminated any and all three day weekends.

We visited during the summer. One summer we’d head up to Minnesota and the next we’d make the trip out to Massachusetts then back up north then out east – you get the picture. I looked forward to those trips, seeing grandmothers (I never knew my grandfathers), aunts, uncles, and cousins I didn’t know. And it never mattered. We were family. After a few awkward moments all was well.

When I grew up, moving away seemed like the thing to do. To Indiana we went because that’s where hubs got a job. The drive to see my parents and sister in Springfield or my sister in Missouri is not quite as killer as Massachusetts. Nope. Just 5-6 hours. My kids see their relatives A LOT more than I did. It’s pretty cool how excited we all get when someone comes to visit or we go invade someone’s house.

The distance between family doesn’t matter. There’s a magic bond that ties us together. Through sickness, frustration, joy, and the other roller coaster aspects of life. We’re there for each other. Because.

I still love to go visit my relatives in Massachusetts. We have a great time. And even though I no longer have family in Minnesota, I hang onto my fond memories.

Even though my sisters and I screamed and yelled at each other growing up, we couldn’t live without each other now. I’m sure there were times when Mom wanted to run away from her three darling little girls… now she can’t wait until we’re all together.

Funny, that getting older thing.

Even crazier that family thing. Hang onto yours, whatever it looks like – adopted, step-families, really good friends that earn an honorary membership. Enjoy each other. All the flaws and fabulousness. We only get one shot at this living thing.