I wish I could shout it from the roof tops! No not really. One, it is too cold. And two, I do not do heights well.

I was going to take the day off, but decided no there is one day left to National Novel Writing Month and I am going to finish it off with some writing. There are still a few ideas and thoughts for this story that I need to get out of my head, so that if I should end up editing it and adding to it then it will make more sense. I think as I was writing, I might have inadvertantly altered a few things. Then new ideas popped up and I added those in, so if you read it now it would be confusing.

I am going to need to print it out so I can make my notes about who, what, and where. Then I can hopefully flesh out the characters and plot. I definitely need to do a lot more showing. Of course I could end up just adding this to my pile of unfinished tales too. Especially if I jump onto the family stories idea. Part of me feels like that should really take priority, and another part of me wants to outline and plan it but save it for Camp NaNoWriMO. But that first does not happen until what? April? June? That is a long wait.

I will definitely take tomorrow off, I think. Maybe. LOL!  I will most likely have a blog post though. Need to keep the writing habit going, right? That is at least what I want to do. To keep on writing.

To my cheerleaders this month, I thank you!
To my fellow participants, I am proud of you! And congratulations!
To my readers, thank you for sticking with my ramblings!

As another National Novel Writing Month comes to a close, I breathe a sigh of relief and joy, because I won. Hopefully, it will not be another four years before I win again.

Until Next Time…………….

Crossing The Finish Line

(image found via Google search)

I am so close. So very close. Less than one thousand two hundred words close. I am so tempted on one hand to say, you did good today leave the rest for tomorrow. And then the other part of me is saying “no keep going! you are almost there.”  I will of course, more than likely keep going. It does not seem logical to stop now.

This will be my second win in thirteen attempts. My last win was three years ago. I did not Rebel that one, it was all new words for a fiction story that I had in my head. Which now sits unfinished on my computer. Unedited and incomplete. That is how all my stories end up.

It is like I get to the end of November, or what I deem the end of my attempt and suddenly the idea just fades to black. One day, I would like to go back to them and finish them. But I would need to print them out, make notes, and then go from them. That means I need a jump drive and a trip to Staples.

This year, if you have been following along, you know I was a Rebel. My writing was a mixture of blog posts (non fiction) and of course fiction. I have written more non fiction I think, but not by much. I think the margin of difference is about a couple thousand words between.

Sure I could stop right this minute and say I am a winner because of all the words I have written. Which aside from September, is the most words I have written in a very long time. But then I would not be an “official” winner. There is something about that piece of paper I can print out soon validating my efforts this month. That I just have to go for the finish line and break that ribbon.

I think I might actually have a sort plot coming together and a story line. I still do not really know where it is going. And in my desperation I feel like my words are just a jumbled mess with no rhyme or reason. I know that is what editing is for, but I do not usually make it to that point. I am starting to feel like I am rambling and grasping at words to get my thoughts out of my head.

I kind of want to commit to getting what I can of this story out of head through the month of December, but at the same time I want to get to work on my family history stories. I suppose I could split my time between them, but I would really prefer (I think) to stick to one project. Then I was thinking that maybe I could turn them into blog posts, my family stories. I do not know if I can add a page – tab on a free account. (note to self: look into that) Or maybe I can do that on another blog? Adding too many choices for a project I have not even started yet.

Best to stick to the goal at hand and that is to wrap up National Novel Writing Month with a win.

Congrats to all who participated this year. Whether you wrote five hundred, five thousand, hit fifty thousand, or even surpassed that goal, YOU WIN!


Brick Walls

(image found via Google search)

The proverbial Brick Wall(s). We all have faced them at some point in our lives. Some more than others. Sometimes it feels like we never, ever get over them. Or around them. Or through them. Am I right? Or, how about you just about over come one and there is another looming in your sights? And all you can think is AW FUCK! Here we go again!

Sometimes. Sometimes they are there for a reason. Sometimes it is because things are not yet as they need to be. And so this wall pops up and makes us wait, which can sometimes feel like a REALLY. LONG. TIME. Other times, it is people trying to stop us from reaching our goals. Maybe they intend to do it, maybe they do not.

Sometimes it is the Universe telling us to STOP! do not go that way. Or NOT YET! And that can piss us off, especially in an instant gratification society that we live in. Everything is: I want it now. Give it to me now. People do not want to work hard. To pour their hearts and souls into a thing. To bleed life into a thing.

I am just as guilty as the next person. There are times I can be like that. You know, add water, zap three minutes in the microwave, and bam! instant food. Then there is the disappointment that follows because you did not take the time and care to prepare something from scratch. Because it takes too long, it is too much work, it is time consuming. But OH the satisfaction of taking the time to do a thing right. There is something about taking your time and doing something the way it is meant to be done and it coming out exactly as intended.

Slow and steady as they say. Right? I mean, I am trying to look at the bright side of things and not be all doom and gloom, oh woe is me. All those brick walls I face. Some of them are true tests of how badly do I want something. Trying to discern which are to keep the nay sayers out. There are some things I want so badly I can almost taste it. And of course there are other things that I just THINK I want, kind of like oh well all the cool kids have it or are doing it.

Take for instance this whole thing with the name, how I feel like it is holding me back. But is it really? Yes and no. I am not currently in a position to set up and online business or sell art or what have you. Honestly, I should be spending time creating, practicing, honing my potential skills. When the time comes, if it should come, the name thing is a brick wall that can be overcome. But in the mean time, there are many things I need to be doing that do not have anything to do with a name.

There are many days where I feel like I am enclosed on all sides by brick walls. Fear. Judgement. Doubt. Guilt. Lies I have been told. I feel boxed in. I do not see a way out. But if one looks close enough, you can see the cracks in the mortar where you can begin to chisel away at all the negative brick walls that are there, trying to hold you back. And when you find them, that is when you start to chisel away at them bit by bit and then YOU build a new wall keep all that shit at bay while you chase after that thing you want.

To say this quote that I heard today while watching a Boho Berry video was a light bulb moment for me would be an understatement.  I am tired of letting the brick walls defeat me. I am tired of letting them hold me back from going after my dreams.

The work is going to be hard. Setting boundaries so I can do the work is going to be even harder. But the question is do I want things badly enough to do what needs doing? Yes! I do want them badly enough. I might end up stepping on toes. I might end up hurting feelings. And if I do, I am sorry. I will try to be a gentle as I can, but I need to do what I need to do for me. For my happiness. For my sanity. For my well being. To follow my dreams.

We have just a little over a month left to this year. As I look back, I do not feel I have done nearly enough (if anything) to pursue my desires and dreams. I do not want to repeat the same thing again in the new year. I want to start conquering these brick walls and make my dreams real.


Yesterday, I was somewhat determined to get words written.  I was not really feeling it. All I wanted to do really was stay in bed or veg on the couch with Netflix or binge watching Downton Abbey on Amazon. But then I looked at what I needed to make this year a win and sat at my computer, writing on and off throughout the day. Somewhere along the way, I ended up writing something a little over thirty nine hundred words. I seriously do not know where they came from, but I am grateful that they did.

According to the stat page, I need to write 11,199 words to win. Or 2800 words a day between now and Thursday. Will I make it? I honestly do not know. It would not be for lack of trying, if I do not make it. This month has been a series of good days and bad days for writing. I am going to assume that happens even to the best writers in the world.

Why do I want to score a win so badly? I think one reason is because I do not consistently finish things. I am good about setting a goal, but terrible about reaching said goal. I am horribly inconsistent! I have unfinished projects every where I look. Then I start more that I do not finish to add to the madness of incompletes. It seems a vicious cycle that all seems to lead back to those voices that tell me how bad I am and how much I suck at everything.

I was reading an article (or several) yesterday about writing. They each had something in them that jumped out at me, like light bulb moments. There was one in particular that had something in that I thought I would touch on in a post today. BUT! Dontcha know, I can’t find the damn thing! I knew I should have jotted it down yesterday, but I figured I would either remember it or I would find the link (or maybe shared it), but nope seems I did not do either.

Maybe it was just the title of a post about Susan Sontag on being a  writer. Part of the title was “You Have To Be Obsessed”. Those five words kind hit me like…you know what, you are not obsessed yet. You are not so consumed by the desire for that thing you want to do, that it becomes like breathing air or eating food or drinking water. It has not yet become the thing(s) I need to survive, to live, to be. So I ask myself, what is holding you back? There is no good, legitimate answer. Lots of lame ones like: Fear, Doubt, Procrastination.

So I ask myself, when and where do I let determination and desire take over? When do I stop this ridiculous dance and grab my dreams by the horns and make them a reality? When do I find the courage to tell someone not now, I am in my zone and do what I need to do? When do I stop letting fear of them getting angry or jealous of the thing get in my way?

There was a quote that also came up yesterday that was also and A-HA! moment.  6692a7769cade449b2f183cc9cd5359d
(found on Facebook and also Google search)
I know this does not apply to everyone. Some people can write and write and write, then take a long or short break only to return to it like they never missed a beat. Others, it becomes just as the image says. THIS! This is the cycle I am trying to break. Where I go from dreamer to doer. From dreamer to creator. Because for me it is true, I can say to myself I am going to skip today, or I will do it later. Then later comes or tomorrow comes and I repeat the cycle until days become weeks and weeks become months.

Maybe that should be my word for 2018, yeah? Determination? My word this year has been DREAM. And I have been doing quite a bit of dreaming, but not a whole lot of doing. At least, not as much as I would like to be doing anyway. I was thinking I would keep the same word for the new year because I rather like it very much and I have a bunch of dreams. I do not usually find my word, my word usually finds me. It is something I start thinking about in December. So this thought just kind of fell into my lap here.

I think though, the one thing I really need to stop doing is feeling like I have failed if I do not make the 50,000 words. Yesterday was the most words I wrote all month long. I believe that at my current word count, I have written more words this month than I have all year. These are feats that I should be rejoicing, rather than looking at the finish line and noticing how short I might be falling. The month is not over yet!!!!!!!!! There is still a chance to pull it out. I have not tried verifying yet, I am a bit scared to. What if my count is less than what I have according to the “official” validater? I know, but what if it is more? Or even a match? I am afraid to find out.

Either way, no matter how this month ends, I am determined to give it my best and write what I can. It is all I can do, is try.


Trying To Catch Up (plus Ramblings)

I do not think I am going to make it, sad but true and I have to face that. Unless I can miraculously pull a shit ton of words out of thin air in the next five days. Okay, according to the stat page on the website I need three thousand and twenty-six words a day for the next five days? six days? Something like that. Right now, I am sitting with something short of nine hundred words.

I am still nursing this cold. I am running out of liquid DayQuil. I feel like I have been bathing myself in Vick’s Vapor Rub. I use the stuff even when I do not have a cold because one – I love the smell of it, two – it helps me sleep, three – I have allergies that give me a night-time cough sometimes and this helps. So Vicks is my friend! I thought the steam from the shower would help, but all that does is make me feel worse. It makes my chest feel heavier. It feels weird to have the shower make me feel worse, when once upon a time it would help clear me up even if briefly.

I have been doing a lot of thinking after writing some of my posts on here. I am coming to the realization that I really need to sit and write out memories of my life so I can work through things that happened to me. I think it would also help me come to terms with why I feel the way I do about some thing and some people. Like why can I forgive and miss one person, but no another?

Sometimes it feels like my memories are like Swiss cheese. There are gaps I can’t seem to fill in. There are entire events I can’t even recall. I can remember when I was on one of my visits to New York to see my family. And we were talking about days gone by and a topic came up that I had no recollection of, but was apparently at. I see some photos that I am in and have no memory of the day. But clearly I was there, I have a picture or several to prove it. I have on occasion stared at a particular picture and no matter how hard I try, I cannot conjure up a single memory of that event I am photographed in. I wonder why that is. Was it not memorable enough? Did something happen to me during the event or that day, that has caused me to repress the memories of it?

Then there are a handful of memories that I do have that I can’t get confirmation of ever having and there are NO photos of it. There is no one to ask, that I can think of.

So what does all this have to do with catching up on my word count? I have no idea and probably not a damn thing. Well, maybe not entirely true. No I guess it is true as I do not see me starting on a new thing this late in the game. But it will at least serve as a reminder to myself of what I am thinking of doing at some point. The only thing I can say with certainty is that my life’s memoir will not be anything print worthy. My life has not been very interesting and I do not see anyone gaining any insights from it.

I do wish my Babci, well both of them really were still alive. Oh the questions I would ask them. The stories they could tell!!! I wish my mother’s mother was still alive so that I can ask her what it was like being a single mother in the mid to late 1920s. Or how did she meet my grandfather? I would love to know what she could tell me about growing up in her area of Poland. I wish I had been able to meet my Grandfathers. One was a coal miner in Mount Carmel, Pennsylvania for a time before being called up to serve in World War I. As far as I can tell, he also traveled to America on a ship by himself at the tender age of just eleven years old.  Can you imagine? The other was a carpenter by trade and taught teenage boys to be carpenters, then he was called up to serve in World War II. I do not know if my coal miner grandfather would have shared any stories though, from what I heard about him he did not seem to be the sharing type. I wish I could record and tell their stories though. I wish I had a time machine so that I can go back and witness their lives.

Can you tell that I love history? I wish my mother’s eldest sister did not have her memories taken by dementia or maybe Alzheimer’s.  I am not totally sure what her diagnosis ended up being. She turned ninety-three yesterday. I am assuming she is still with us, I have not been told other wise at least. I would have loved to have been able to ask her about what she remembers. These days now, I sit and kick myself for not thinking of or caring about this stuff back when I could ask all my questions to those that were still here and living. The old “if I only knew then, what I know now” feeling. Oh and “hind sight is twenty-twenty”.  Those are probably my biggest regrets. But can they really be regrets, if I was too young to give it consideration.

All I can do now, I write down as much as I can remember from all the stories I have been told. I can maybe ask my mother’s youngest sister somethings if I need to. How sad is it that the oldest and the youngest are the last of the siblings? All the others in between are gone. It does not seem right. But at the same time, I think of how my father’s mother out lived her parents, two husbands, and her three children.

I know, again…what does this have to do with catching up? Nothing and everything. It all goes together with my desire to write and has nothing to do with it at all. Maybe I should stop trying to write fiction and switch to non-fiction for this purpose of my desire to write. I think about the Little House books, about how they were fiction yet were still about Laura’s life. I have no clue how I could spin my family stories into a work of fiction, I do not have a clue on how to embellish and fill in, expand on the parts that I know and do not know. It is something I would like to try and do though, whether as a fictional tale with real life events or as a family history story.

I have so much on my mind right now about writing, about life, about things in general. I probably need to spend a day and just make lists of things and jot down notes of what I do know. Maybe once I am over this cold and my thoughts are clearer instead of being interrupted by coughing every few seconds, I can focus on something like that.

Hopefully those of you who are doing National Novel Writing Month are reaching your word goals. I wish y’all the best!

I Had Plans

I  did! I was going to write today. I was going to work on catching up because I need to do about 2300 words over the next few days to win. But yeah, that did not happen. This stupid cold is kicking my ass.

It is a crazy one where I am not stuffy, but my nose decides it is going to run. Then there is the dry cough and the tickle in my throat that no amount of fluid I drink will stop. All the coughing makes me feel all hurty and like my cat (who is like twenty odd pounds!) is sitting on my chest. You can see her in all her glory right below 😀


I do not think that picture does her size justice. But she is a beauty.  My Itty Bitty ❤

So, because I still feel like crap, I have basically vegged all day and played games, watched music videos, anything but what I had planned to do which was of course write. But when your feeling like crap and feel like you are going to cough up a lung or two, writing just does not seem like a good idea. I just can’t concentrate when I am sick or under the weather. I would not really say I am sick “sick”. I just feel like shit LOL.

Hopefully tomorrow will be better. For now it is going to be a NyQuil and Vicks Rub, date with my pillows and blanket rest of my evening. Hopefully that will include some sleep.


My Heart Is Heavy

It is so heavy with sorrow. With missing days gone by. The days when family meant something and gathering around the table was important.

I always wondered why we spent holidays at one grandparent’s but not the other. And since the other, even though a couple had no place to spend them except alone, why were they never invited to spend it with the other side of the family. Every single holiday was spent with my maternal grandmother. EVERY.ONE! I never questioned, but I wondered why. How come my father’s parents were never invited to join us?

My mother’s mother was a wonderful cook. Everything as I recall was made from scratch. Only thing from a can was corn, olives, and cranberry sauce. She passed when I was eleven years old. Even though I spent a lot of time and every holiday at her house, I do not remember being close to her. But still her passing hit me hard.

Today I tried to make her mushroom sauce. But it was probably a bad idea to try to make with a cold. My taste buds are off so I can’t tell if I nailed it or not. I think it was just a bit off, like I did not add enough of something. It was still good, but still, not quite right.

What is really strange to me is how much I miss family even though I felt like the out cast, the black sheep, the invisible one. Even now, I still feel like the invisible one but I enjoy watching from the sidelines. It does bring me a sense of joy to take it all in as an observer.

Today is eleven years to the day that my Babci passed away. I was not really sure how I was going to manage to get through the day. When it came time to go around the table we took time to remember Granny this time instead of saying what we were thankful for. I started to panic a little because I was not sure I could speak without falling apart. And it would have been because my heart is aching and missing my own Grandmas so much. But I was able to keep it together and not cry, which I am sure would have gotten everyone else going.

The day is almost over. The food is put away. Desserts have been eaten. Guests have gone home. A first without Granny for them, an eleventh year without one grandma for me and thirty seven without the other.

It has been probably thirty some odd years since I spent a Thanksgiving with my own family. Once my mother’s mother passed away, the family pretty much fell apart with sibling feuds over nonsense, just excuses as far as I can figure. I can’t remember the last time I had a holiday meal with my cousins and aunts and uncles. The last time she cooked as Easter 1981. I think we tried to get together for Thanksgiving or something, but it just was not the same. After that, I am drawing a blank on what we did for all those holidays after.

I see people making the same mistakes those in my family made. By making excuses for why they can’t make a holiday dinner. After only weeks before saying how family is everything, life is short. Then you do this. It is no way to honor the memory of the one who just passed. But if that is what you choose to do, then it is you who have to live with the consequences later. Maybe you regret it, maybe you do not.  In the end though, it really is the young children that miss out. What kind of example are  you setting for them? Your pride will be your downfall because you would rather bicker.

It hurts to see people act this way. Life is too fucking short!

I’ve Fallen Behind (again)

I  had a plan (okay, I thought about it!) to catch up today. But, that did not happen. The last couple of days have been spent running errands and such for Thanksgiving. Today was spent prepping what could be prepped. Now, okay I did not do much of the prepping, but I did bake a New York style cheesecake from scratch.

Since it was a new to me recipe and I have not made one in years, it took me a bit longer than I expected. I had to wait for everything to come to room temperature. Then I had to mix the eggs and sour cream separate from the cream cheese and butter. Then I had to combine those two before I could add in the dry, the extract, and the lemon juice. I also had to cook it a la  bain marie aka water bath. I have never made one like that before. So learning curve all around. It took over two hours to back, then another almost four hours before it was cool enough for the refrigerator! It smelled really good and looked beautiful, I just hope it tastes good! The waiting for it to set is the hardest part.

So like I said, I really had planned on writing, but my head was not really in the game today. Tomorrow is going to hectic with family and food. Tomorrow is also eleven years exactly since I lost my Babci. One month and three days since we lost Granny. I think it is going to be emotionally exhausting tomorrow. On top of that, my throat is now getting sore and scratchy, feels like a cold is brewing (but I think I have been dancing with it for a few days, like it can’t decide what it wants to do). So I might just cave and give myself the day off tomorrow. BUT at the same time, even though I have fallen behind in word count I have still written every single day and do not want to break the streak. So I do not know what to do. I guess I will decide tomorrow!

So with that, I am going to take some NyQuil and slather myself with Vicks and call it a night. Hopefully, I will feel well enough tomorrow. At least enough to get through the day and enjoy the meal (and my cheesecake!).

I wish you and yours a very Happy and Blessed Thanksgiving!

Life After

I managed to catch up a little bit on my word count. I ended yesterday about 875 words short of being back on target. Today was a day spent out with the girls, it was definitely needed! So of course, being gone all day I am about 2500 words in the hole for the moment. According to the NaNo site, I need to write 1740 words to finish on time with 50,000 words.

BUT….that is not what I want to write about in this post tonight. There was an article I came across on Facebook a couple of days ago that I found really interesting. I guess it is not an official thing like PTSD is. This was called PNSD. Post Narcissist Stress Disorder. The two are similar, but yet are different is what I am understanding. It might seem that some people are thinking this new designation is unnecessary since a lot the same things fall under C-PTSD. Maybe it will earn a spot in the disorder category, maybe it will not.  You can read the entire list of symptoms here.

There are three main symptoms. One of the main symptoms is Emotional Numbing. As I mentioned in a previous post, I got real good an numbing by detaching. Something I learned about in High School when I attended about a year or so of Al-a-teen meetings. It was a big thing that was talked about back then, we are talking 1984, 1985. I learned how to get pretty good at detaching by the time I was married to a narcissist.

Then there are the self-esteem issues one develops. I have a hard time with reliving events like arguments and such. I have trouble believing if people are genuine or not. I am the one who goes to the worst case scenario on just about any matter. I can be jumpy and have panic attacks, I have sleep issues, self doubt is a big problem as well as self blame. I tend to keep people at a distance, sometimes I avoid things that I would typically enjoy or used to enjoy. I can identify with several others on the list to varying degrees.

It started early in life for me, I was raised by a narcissistic mother. I was an accident, I should never have been born. I was told those over and over again. When I was sixteen and started working, she said I owed her for all the years she had to take care of me. Nothing I did was ever right or good enough. When I asked her to show me how to do things, she would say no. Then she would turn around and tell people I was lazy and never did anything to help her.

She tried to control my life and everyone in it. In high school, if I went out with friends I could not go alone. She had to go every where with us. It was embarrassing! And frustrating. I do not know how the few friends that I had put up with it.

The guy I dated during that time was controlling and abusive. I have talked about some of the things he did in a post a few days back. And how she kept trying to keep me with him. A couple of years after it was finally over with him and he was out of my life, some kindly souls felt the need to tell me that they believed he and my mom were a thing. Either during the end of out time together or after we split. After awhile, I stopped listening because I just did not care and I did not want to know.

Then I got married. Little did I know at the time I was marrying a narcissist. Maybe I had an inkling? I  honestly do not know for sure if I did or not. Things were subtle, which could be why I did not have a clear idea of it happening. A year after we were wed, we moved out of state. Now it is not that I did not want to move, I did eventually. I just did not expect it to be that soon. I had other thoughts on how it would all go. I never expected to be so homesick for my neighborhood and family. So I called them….A LOT! And he would get super pissed about it. I could spend hours on the phone with them because I missed them so much.

Eventually his complaints led to me calling less and less. It would be three years before we went back for a wedding. It would be four years before I got to spend a week at “home”. Just before I left for that week with my oldest, he made sure to tell me that if I even thought about leaving him that he would have me arrested and declared unfit. That he would make sure that I never saw her again. Up to that moment, I had never even considered the thought. But when he said it, it was like a light bulb went off. I just could not make any connections yet. I was confused. During my stay that week, my Babci did ask me to stay. To not go home. Little did she know how much I wanted to, just because I missed being back there. But she had no idea about his threat, I declined her offer because I had to.

More and more, he would tell me how I was not good enough at things. I did not cook right, or wash clothes right. I did not vacuum right or clean right. Everything I did was never good enough. He would spend money needlessly, but it was my fault that there was never enough. I had no friends down there. And even if I managed to make a friend here  or there, he would eventually drive them away. I always felt like I was walking on eggshells with him.

As the girls got older, he would just as cruel.  He would tell me youngest she was fat or chunky even though she was neither. He would tell one or both they were stupid or dumb for not knowing something. If they expressed their dreams or desires, he would shoot them down much the same way he and my mother did to me with my own dreams. My oldest wanted to study photography at SCAD in Savannah. He would tell her that photography was a nice hobby but she should think about getting a “real” job. She still works on her photography, but I think she gave up her dream of going to school for it. I would try my best to counter his narcissistic treatment to them but I think I may have failed anyway.

It has been seven years since I left. I still struggle. I still can hear them, him and my mother, in my head. It is no wonder I have so much trouble following through on my dreams and desires. It is so hard to get them out of my head after years of not one but two people being the resident narcissist in your life. With so much of my life being under a narcissist, it is no wonder that I struggle with even the simplest things sometimes.

I feel so much safer in my cocoon with the walls up, keeping people at bay. But that gets so dark and lonely. And then, I miss out on some possibly great friendships. Everyday, whether I realize it or not, whether I acknowledge it or not, is a struggle. Some days I feel like I am waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop, even if there is not one TO drop. It is just all those years of conditioning.

I can only do what I can do. Take it one day at a time, one moment at a time, one second at a time if need be. I have to learn to be gentle with myself. I have to learn what self care methods work for me when I am triggered and then put them into practice without feeling guilty for doing it. That is hard to do, because I feel guilty for having been triggered, then I feel guilty for having to practice self care to get through it. Then I feel guilty, even angry that they even after all these years are still in my head. I am trying to learn how to ignore them if I can’t silence them.

Someday, I will be triumphant. It may not be today or tomorrow, but someday I will be.


Oh Look! Squirrel!

That is pretty much how I feel wanting to do all the things but can’t do them because I can’t focus on any one thing. I know part of the lack of focus I have felt the last few days has been due to a flare up with anxiety. My writing has been suffering since Tuesday, which is about when I started to feel it coming on. I have slacked off on word count for the fiction project, struggled with even writing a back story for a character I play, even blogging has taken a hit.

Things looked up a little bit yesterday when I was actually able to add word counts to every thing I have in the works, as far as new projects go. As of this moment, I am about 3,000 words behind total. I guess we shall see where I am after this post but it will probably be about 2,000 plus behind.  I am finding it hard to write during the day this last week or so. I have been trying to get some writing in before bed, but then I just feel too tired to write.

I am leery about next week though. Thursday is going to hit me hard.  I just know it is. Thursday is Thanksgiving here in the States. But for me, it is not the same anymore. It has not been for some time now. I can tell you when it changed for me, exactly.  It was Thanksgiving day, November 23, 2006 at precisely Noon. This Thursday it will be eleven years to the day that I lost my rock and biggest cheerleader.

It is going to be hard for me. I may not get any writing in at all that day. It is supposed to be our day of feasting here at the house. But I do not know how well it is going to go. I expect it will be a pretty emotional day since this will be the first Thanksgiving without Granny here for my S.O. and his family. It will be just a bit over a month that she will have been gone.

And then there is just so much shit going on in general. They are still trying to close on the house. Every time they fax stuff in, they turn around and ask for more and more stuff. Then they fax those in, and guess what….they want MORE stuff. Christmas is coming, the new year is coming. It feels like we are in a holding pattern and a waiting for the other shoe to drop scenario. Which of course adds to everyone’s stress levels.

It does not feel good, but some things are just out of our control and just have to take their course. We do not have to like, but we do have to ride it all out I suppose.

So the question remains will I be able to make up word count and hit the 50,000 by November 30th? I truly have no idea. I can hope I do and try my damnedest to make it. But I will not make myself sick in the process. Where ever I end up in the race for words, it will be more than I have written in a long time, and in my book that is a win for me. I have managed to added over a thousand words to the fiction piece and about four hundred to the character piece in the last couple of days. So that is a good sign. Maybe something I need to do while I am trying to figure out where the story is supposed to be going is write out character pieces. Tell about who the players are so far, maybe they will open up some to me and tell me about themselves. If they do that, then maybe I can move the story forward.

All good ideas, in theory, at least. But I as I said, not going stress or panic. Just going to do what I can and hope for the best. It might sound as if I am giving myself an out and an excuse to give up. But I am not, I promise you. I am just going easy on myself.

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