Today’s Inspiration


(image found on Google/StoryDam. created by M. Dragonwillow)

This is another quote that I keep near by.  This one is written on an index card and pinned on my bulletin board.  The first time I read this, it hit me hard. Yet here I sit, still not doing the writing.  And yes, I do feel like the more I do NOT write, the more I am being erased.

Every day that I don’t do art or take photos, I feel like a bit of myself disappears. Every day that I don’t write, I feel my words slipping away.  Only I have the power to stop this.  Still for as much as I think about and try to plan something, I can’t find the motivation to take action.

I feel like I am stuck in the mud.  My words, I feel, are like snow flakes falling and quickly melting because it’s too warm to stick.  I’m afraid though, that if I were to have a blizzard of words, that there will be too many for me to keep up with.

I’m afraid to pick up my camera bag and go for a walk. I’m afraid that those around me will watch and judge, make snarky comments. I’m afraid that I don’t have the “proper” equipment seeing as I only have one lens right now.  I feel like it’s not enough, that I’m a fraud to call myself a photographer albeit a hobbiest just because I don’t have all the “right tools”.

It’s how I feel about writing or making art.  That because I don’t have this or that, or because I don’t (or can’t) do it every day, that I’m a fraud. And a failure.

See there’s that imposter syndrome again.  Yet there are so many that say even if you don’t do it every day, if you make art – you’re an artist. If you write – you’re a writer.  If you take pictures – you’re a photographer.

This is an inner battle, not just with myself but also with the voices of those that live on in my memory that told me I wasn’t good enough.  I will probably fight this battle every day for the rest of my life.  But it’s one I hope to win one day. And then, maybe just maybe, they will finally be silent.


Inspirational Quote

natalie goldberg quote

(image found via Google and Twitter)

I keep this quote next to me at my desk as a reminder that I should be writing.  Obviously, I’m not always successful at it if you look at my post list.  But I have some good runs here and there.  This is one of those quotes that make me want to write my story. I haven’t been very successful there either.

I hear those voices in my head, the voices of those who caused me pain and told me I was worthless and good for nothing.  It may not be their words, but it’s in their voices.  The “who wants to read your crap” “no one’s going to believe you” “your words have no meaning, worthless, useless” and those are the mild ones.

I used to think just talking about things that happened was hard.  But writing about them.  I think that is even harder still.  I’m still in the thought process on it, how I want to go about it. But I have arguments with myself about it all the time.

‘You should write it, it might help someone.’  ‘No, I can’t my story means nothing.’
‘It’s done, it’s past get over it.’  ‘I can’t, my wounds won’t heal but maybe if I write it they will.’  And on and on, round and round it goes. If I’m not fighting myself, I’m fighting with them…the voices of my past.

Then I think, WTF you’re 48 years old you don’t have a story. But I do.  Don’t I?  It’s not as traumatic as some survivor stories out there.  But I have been through and am trying to heal from was traumatic to me.  Am I supposed to let the level of trauma sway my decision of whether or not I should write about it?

Round and round the wheel goes. The battle within rages on.  Is my story worth being told?  I don’t know.  Maybe I’ll never know.


Fear – Of Too Much Or Not Enough


Found this image today.  Silvermoone shared it from her Instagram to her Facebook page. It really hit me.  It was one of those light bulb moments.  I never heard this theory before, but holy crap does it ever make total sense.

I shared this image on my Facebook timeline today, because I know so many people that deal with this fear on a daily basis. Sometimes it feels like it could be minute by minute even.  I know I struggle with this fear all the damn time, it really does feel like it changes minute by minute depending on the scenario and who is involved in said scenario.

I said it was like walking a tight rope. The feelings of fear of not being enough or of being too much.  And for the most part that is true. But as I am writing this post, I realize it can also be like a pendulum.  Swinging back and forth between too much and not enough.  I mostly walk the line of “not enough”, but there are times when I try to speak my truth or stand up for something where I fear being “too much”.

The more I try to be enough, the more I lean towards too much, the more it seems people want to stuff you back in a box and tell you to hush.  Or they tell you how  wrong you are or that you don’t know what you are talking about.

If I am honest, I am down right scared shit to be me.  The tight rope, the pendulum…they are overwhelming.  I don’t know how to be me.  I don’t know who I am.  I’ve spent my entire life being told I’m too much of this, not enough that.  When I’ve tried to “fix” that I was then told that I’m too much that, and not enough of this now.  There was no “happy medium”

That has left me feeling worthless, useless, no good.  It has left me not knowing who I am or what I want because I’ve always had people telling how awful I was. Been told I should never have been born. That I was an accident.  Can’t help but make me wonder if my mother didn’t try to get rid of me. My father was convinced she made herself fall off a ladder to induce a miscarriage of what would have been my younger sibling.  I can see where his theory had validity.  My mother didn’t “just fall”.  We’re talking about a woman who would stand precariously on furniture to do some task or sit on a window sill three stories up to wash the outside of a window.

I was raised and told early on that I was no good, not enough. Too much to handle, even though I was quiet as a mouse and could play quietly for hours alone. In all my relationships, it was always me that was not enough or too much for my partner.  My ex felt it was his duty to “fix” me and make me into who he thought I was supposed to be.

So yes, the fear is not one or the other. It, I believe, is the fear of being oneself.  The pendulum swings violently back and forth as you battle and struggle to be yourself. Or try to find that balance on the tight rope between too much and not enough. Is there such a thing, a happy medium?  Or is that settling and compromising to make someone else happy because they can’t handle who you are?

I don’t have the answer. All I can do for me, is try to figure out who I am and conquer the fear. Let the cards fall where they may. I think the truth of it is, is that you need to do you, be you and not worry if you are too much or not enough because you will never be able to please everyone.

Lost Words

There are so many things I want to write about, both on the blog and on paper.  My mind gets so overwhelmed with it all, instead of remembering things I often end up forgetting them. Part of the forgetfulness is the brain fog I tend to experience.

Like this morning, I saw a movie trailer for “The Book Club”.  It looks really good, great cast. I was describing the trailer and naming the actors and suddenly I went blank. I could see the actor’s face.  I could tell you what TV show he played in and his character’s name. But for the life of me, I could NOT remember his name!  After several minutes it finally came to me.  Though sometimes, I’m not so lucky.

Just the other day, I was trying to jot down some notes about one of the characters that’s poking at me. I came to a particular point I wanted to note about her. Yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t not find the word I was looking for. It was just right there, on the tip of my fingers so to speak, but I just couldn’t grasp it. I’ve never been one to lose my words, so this is quite frustrating.  I think I ended up settling on a word, but still not the one I was trying to pluck from my brain.

As a writer, or a wanna-be writer, not being able to find your words is so frustrating.  Yet, as frustrating as it is, it makes me want to write all the more.  Is that just crazy or what?  I don’t know what to make of it.  Maybe it will help me think better, clearer.  Or maybe, it will just drive me up a wall LOL.  Either way, I want to write.

I want to do what Diana Gabaldon did.  She didn’t set out intending to be published.  She wrote Outlander just to see if she could even write a novel. And now here we are, waiting for book 9! I think the experiment was quite successful.  Me, I would just like to see if I could write one book from start to finish regardless of how crappy it turns out, regardless if it ever gets published.  I won’t lie, seeing my book in print would be pretty amazing.  And once upon a time, before I discovered a love for art and photography, I truly wanted to be a published author.

Maybe a part of me still does, what to be published that is.  I’m not looking for fame and fortune by any means, but making enough money to take a trip to England and Scotland or maybe to the land of my ancestors would be nice (or all of those places).  If I’m honest, I lost the desire to want to be publish when my Ex would grill me on ‘how was the little book coming along’.  Or trying to tell me what kind of book he thought I should be writing.  And all his plans for the money I would make.  He took the joy out of it for me. Maybe that’s why I’ve struggled with writing so much?  I never even considered that as a possibility until just now.  He stole my joy!  Not just with writing, but with so many things.

It’s time.  Time to find my joy again, in life and in creating.

Hello March!

So, I totally spaced that yesterday was the first of the month! Had every intention of writing a post on the first, but…….yeah.  I thought that was today.

I tried to spend some time yesterday with the characters that recently introduced themselves to me.  I don’t have much from them yet.  I probably just didn’t spend enough time. Every time I tried to get something fleshed out, I got interrupted.  I did manage a few notes  at least.

I think the first set I was working on will be part of my Camp NaNoWriMo project.  I’m not sure yet though.  I haven’t set my project in stone yet, but I think what I have in mind is what I will go with.

I’ve been tossing around the idea that maybe I could do “my story” in fiction form.  I’m thinking that maybe if I approach as a story I might be able to fill in those blanks with actual memories.  If I color code the story as I am writing it, it would make it easier to go back and find the places that need to be filled in with real memories.  It’s just a thought right now, we’ll see what I decide to do if and when I actually start writing it.

I never really thought about how hard writing about yourself, even if it is just for yourself right now could be.  When ever I have tried before, it was all very basic and to the point.  More like I could have done bullet points instead of writing out paragraphs.  I know I can do better.  I’m just afraid of  what I will unlock in my mind that I have tucked away so deeply.  Part of me wants to just say forget it, and part of me wants to drive forward and explore what’s there. By diving in, I think I can maybe finally face things and heal from them.

And that’s the key….it’s time to heal old wounds.

I Have Hope For Writing

writing quote1

I came across this on Facebook today. It was an AHA! moment for me.  I keep worrying that if I ever get my writing out there that people will think it sucks and hate it, hate me. I also keep thinking how if I were to write MY story, living with a narcissistic mother and alcoholic father, escaping a physically abusive relationship, only to end up marrying a narcissist….that no one would want to listen, that my story is irrelevant and ordinary.

And then I saw this quote today.  It made me pause and think. Why…WHY am I so worried and stressing and holding back from writing, allowing blocks to form and get in my way over something that isn’t even an issue yet?  I should be writing for me, to get the words out, to bring the characters to life. To right out my life as I remember it, while I still remember it or what I do remember.  I seem to have blocked things out.  I know something happened, but I can’t recall details.  Like there are photos I look at where I am in the photo but have no memory of the event or the photo even being taken.

One of the reasons I want to write my story is so that I can remember it when I need to, heal the wounds I have sustained, and perhaps be a beacon for someone in a similar situation some day.  I think that by writing, I might be able to jog some things loose. Things that need to be healed and released.  So that I might be truly free.

Regarding my fiction, I have so many ideas. Characters that come to mind.  And then I think, dragons are over done, elves too.  Same with magick, and witches, anything mystical.  But then I saw something the other day, again on Facebook I think or maybe it was Twitter….but what it boiled down to is that there maybe a lot of those types of stories out there, just none of them are mine and I could bring a whole new twist to these things. But if I don’t write them, we’ll never know.  Even if I’m writing them just for me, that’s what should count.

I commend those of you that share your writings on blogs.  I have a friend who is writing her book on Word Press. Each post she makes is a chapter in her story.  Without worry of how polished or rough it might be.  To me that is pretty fucking brave and awesome.  Me…I’m to chicken to share publicly like that, not to mention paranoid.  Makes me wonder if I ever get a story finished and edited, where will I find the courage to maybe submit it to a publisher one day.  Panic over events that may never happen, yep I’m weird like that.

Looking ahead to get my writing on, I have already signed up for Camp NaNo. The goal will be at least 25,000 words for April.  I don’t know what I am going to do yet for March which is just a couple of hours away.  Going to definitely try to get some blog posts going here.  Maybe I will try to do some character sketches.  See what I can flesh out as they come to me and perhaps through that they will tell me what their story is supposed to be.

If I can just keep this quote in the forefront of my mind, I am quite hopeful that I can find my way back to writing. Fingers crossed!

This Not Writing Sucks

It’s getting old and I’m getting pissed at myself for not getting any writing of any kind done. I’m getting tired of hurting all the time, getting tired of the foggy brain crap too. Sometimes I feel like I am just a shadow of the quick witted person I once was. Sometimes words come out of my mouth and I think what the hell did I just say.  I laugh it off and come back with a “You know what I mean” quip to brush it off as funny.  But the truth of it is….it’s not funny.

It’s annoying as hell to one moment be thinking you want to do something or research something and then by the time you get to the computer, you can’t remember what you were just thinking.  It eventually comes back to me, but usually at an inconvenient time.

I think I would prefer writer’s block than brain fog. Though the two seem to be intertwined some days, most days.

Now I’ve got characters introducing themselves to me, but when I ask them what’s their story they just laugh and say that’s for you to figure out.  And I’m over here going oh come on now just toss me a couple bread crumbs at least. Then I’ve got the other one without a name standing just inside the throne room with her father. There’s at least 2 more characters I have for that snippet that are nameless as well.

Yesterday, one told her name but not her story.  And then today I had one say hello.  She tells me her middle name is Gene as in DNA reference because her parents were some sort of scientists or geneticists and thought it was amusing.  It would just be nice if they gave me more information, ya know.

Don’t even get me started on all the bits and pieces of story ideas and partial write stories I have laying around that go back 13 years. The ones I think are worthless and that I suck at this writing thing. But one time, back in the beginning.  When Yahoo Groups was a big thing, I shared a piece of my writing for critiquing. To my surprise, the feed back was positive aside from the I don’t show more and that I am too passive. But I think that is because most times I write how I talk and I imagine myself telling the story aloud. That shouldn’t be a negative when all that can be edited and fixed in the rewrite process.

One more day left in the month. Then we begin March. My hope is that March will be a better writing month for me.  To put words on the blog, to put pen to paper. That’s the plan at least. May the odds ever be in my favor I suppose.  Here’s hoping at least!


Yesterday, I found out that my youngest lost her beloved Yorkie.  She “rescued” her from a friend who didn’t really give a flip about her.  My baby girl had her for 11 years and they were the best of friends.  If ever there was a first dog to have for her it was sweet little LuLu Bean. That was my nickname for the wee lass.  During the few months they had her, they said she was untrainable, destructive, and a few other things.  Within a couple of weeks, my daughter had her sitting, standing up for a treat on her hind legs, and rolling over, potty accidents happened but they got better as she worked with her.  This though was the day I dreaded most, they day Lucy would cross the rainbow bridge.  She had the best momma and she was just the best fur baby.  RIP sweet LuLu Bean, you will always be loved and never be forgotten.


I had a dream last night/early this morning that it was Tuesday.  That we skipped right over Monday.  I know some people would think that would be fantastic.  But it actually had me a little frantic this morning as I tried to get my bearings and realize it was indeed Monday after all. That none of us, pets included, missed an entire day.  It is a rather odd feeling to wake up like that.

I guess part of me would like to just skip over February 19th.  It was a rough day in my relationship and for awhile there it was the end of it.  My fears and insecurities, my doubts all became too much and almost ended us.  Well, I guess you could say it did for a time.  It’s not to say I don’t still have all of that going on with me, but I think ….I hope, I am in better control of the gremlins.

Today also marks the 4 year anniversary of my mother’s death.  An event I wanted no part of in any way, shape, or form.  The doctor at the hospital was trying to force me to make decisions that were not mine to make.  I kept telling her that I am not and will not be her proxy, that there was a form in her chart if she would just fucking look.  She kept trying to tell me that she did and it wasn’t there.  I was over 2000 miles away and I knew for damn sure that it was in that chart.  She kept calling me and pressing me to make decisions. Then just a couple of hours before she died, lo and behold, the doctor found the form.  I bluntly told her “I told you so” and then from that point she wouldn’t discuss my mother’s care or status with me. After I hung up with her for the last time, about 2 hours or so later my aunt called to tell me my mother died.

I think a single tear slid down my cheek.  It was all I had left to spare her.  We had been estranged for years.  Not by my choice, but by hers.  I tried and tried to keep reaching out. The more I reached out, the more she spread lies about me to anyone willing to listen. I tried to keep her included in my daughters lives.  But when you complain that a 2 and half year old that was meeting you for the first time was squeezing you like a tube of toothpaste when she gave you a hug.  And you lose your shit because they were looking at your happy meal toys.  You got issues.  These were your grandkids for fuck sake. She all but stopped talking to me not long after that visit.  I tried to keep the lines open at least with my kids. But after awhile, my oldest said why do we have to keep writing to Grandma if she doesn’t want to write us back.  She had already stopped sending them cards for birthdays and holidays.  I was trying to….hell I don’t know anymore what I was trying to do.  I told them if they wanted to stop, they could.  It seemed pointless to force something that was one sided.

The only time I heard from her after that was when she needed copies of papers I had of my father’s.  There was money in it for her, but the only way to get it was with those papers.  I made copies and sent them.  I won’t lie, I thought maybe….just maybe she would act like a mother. But nope, she got what she needed and I never heard from her again.

If it wasn’t for my aunt keeping me apprised of her health and such, I wouldn’t have known anything at all.

So even though, this is the anniversary of her death. I really lost her a long time before that.  You could even say I lost her when I got back from my honeymoon. She didn’t want me to marry him.  Hindsight, I shouldn’t have. But that’s another story.  She was plotting how to break us up.  I eloped, left for a week, we told her when we came back. She didn’t speak to me until I was pregnant with my first child. So over 3 years.  Then she  stopped speaking to me after that visit when my youngest was about 2 and 1/2.

But then I ask myself, did I even have a mother to begin with?  As I think back now, she was more of a keeper, control freak than a mother. That’s a whole other post for another day.

I Wrote Words Today!

First, Happy Valentine’s Day!

Second, I’m calling today a good day.  I got out some today, I cooked a pretty delicious dinner, and I wrote words.  Oh and we got a little bit of snow!  It’s all gone now. After about an hour or so, it turned to rain. It was basically a dusting, maybe a 1/4 inch if that.

I don’t know how many words I wrote. They are long hand.  I needed to get these out of my head before I forgot them. I am pretty amazed that I even remembered what I did, since they have been floating around in my head for a couple of days.  Some of it came to mind last night when I was trying to fall asleep.  All I could do was repeat over and over don’t forget – don’t forget – don’t forget.

I almost didn’t even write today.  I was sitting out in the car while S.O.’s mom was having her PT session.  I didn’t bring any yarn with me and the cell signal was weak, making getting on my tablet a chore.  I did have my notebook and pen though, so I finally decided to whip it out and get these ideas down. I don’t have names of characters yet. I am not sure I really have a plot.  Right now it is just this scene and two characters.

I hope I can decipher later what I wrote.  All my yarn play has irritated my wrist, making my writing sloppy.  I think I’ll be fine though.  I have a ways to go before I am going to type any of it up.  Normally I would be researching things, looking up names, and such.  But I think I am going to try a different approach.  I am going to let this one just come along as it wants.  I can do all the deep dive research stuff later.  Right now, I just want to see where this character is going to lead me without bogging myself down with busy work that will distract me.

It’s so easy for me to get lost in looking up stuff, especially on Pintrest when looking for character ideas or setting ideas.  I like to have visuals, but that is a rabbit hole I can really get lost down.  So maybe if I go about this one differently I might get somewhere. Or it will fizzle out and end up in my pile of unfinished tales.  Guess we shall find out.

Falling Short

I was going to title this “Fell Off The Wagon”, but I thought that would give the wrong impression.

January writing didn’t go as I had planned in my head.  February isn’t fairing much better so far. I thought I would kick off this month with another go at 500 words a day. But here we are, the 8th of the month, and this is all I have to show for it. So far.

I have been thinking about why my level of creativity is so low. I read something not too long ago about your creative space being sacred space.  And that got me thinking.  My space isn’t sacred.  I’ve been trying to make it that way. But I can’t find that balance.  If I go in there to create and close the door, as soon as I am out of sight for more than 5 minutes I get the “what are you doing?” “why are  you in here?” “are you making one of those creepy eyed ladies?”

He doesn’t like when I paint faces with eyes. He says it’s creepy and feels like they are looking at him.  Part of me thinks it’s hilarious. The other part me just gets discouraged and then I don’t want to paint. I know there are plenty of artists that paint faceless girls. I think they are kind of cool.  I have thought about trying my hand at them.  But have yet to get around to it.

But back to my space.  It’s not quite what I want it to be either.  I have a sort of vision in my head of what I do want for my space. Until I can build myself a little outside studio, I have to settle for a corner of my bedroom.  The other part that distresses me about it, is the cats.  They just won’t stay off it. Even if/when I leave it piled high with STUFF.  They walk on it and across it to get in the window. Which if they gave it a hair of thought, they could get into the window by jumping to the sill from the floor. It isn’t necessary to travel across every bit of furniture!

They also will sleep on it if it’s got one smidge of open space.  Oh!  And they also think it is just a fabulous place for them to deposit their hairballs!  So leaving a WIP out is asking for trouble!  They already nailed a skein of my yarn not too long ago here that is on the table.  I just don’t know how to keep them off it!  So that too, discourages me from creating in my little corner.

If I try to do some painting or work in the art journal at my computer desk, I just feel so exposed. And of course….CATS! Oh and now, add the dogs LOL. I love all our animals, they are family.  I just need to find balance, I think – I suppose.

Pain, that’s pretty much what kept me from writing. When I hurt….A LOT….I can’t think.  The last few days, week or so,  it’s been up and down.  Usually peaking towards the night here the last couple of days.  I’ve also been trying to cope with the “Imposter Syndrome” again. Where I feel like I’m not really a writer because I don’t write every day….because I’m not published…or paid…etc.  I feel like my words, my stories are irrelevant. Like they don’t matter.  So between the pain and the inner critic, it’s quite a battle.

You know what is also kind of discouraging?  When you come up with a title or a name for your potential studio/brand, and it’s been taken and/or actively in use. So, so frustrating.  I don’t want or need someone coming after me for infringement of any kind.

What is your take on such a thing?  I mean of course of it’s trade marked or something, it’s off limits.  But let’s say you come up with a really cool studio name. You Google it, only to discover that someone clear across the country or even in Canada has the same name you want to use.  What do you do?  If what I am thinking of is completely different from what the other person is doing, and we’re in two completely different locations. Is it acceptable to use it?  I just looked up a potential photography name, and found there are at least 3 if not more in use across the country.

See this is something else I grapple with.  If I ever decided to go into business or something, how do I brand myself if everything I come up with is possibly being used by someone else?  I am no where near ready for anything of the sort, but it is a possible road I might want to pursue somewhere down the road.

In the mean time, I suppose I will seek balance and sacredness in my creative space. I will try to write more.  I will try to motivate myself to get out the door with my camera. I will catch up on the Granny Square project. I’m only 13 squares behind. But they work up so fast, catching up is easy.  I just really need to get out of my own way and I need to stop listening to the criticism of what I do or  don’t do.  I can’t live a creative life if I keep letting myself and others get in my way.

Looks like I managed to write some words.  It’s a start.  Better than no words at all.

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