Let it all hang out

In a world where I have always been very outgoing, I have never really understood someone’s decision to become or stay introverted. 

I mean why if given the choice, would you chose to spend time alone versus time with friends and family? Having people around tends to lead to laughter and a general sense of well being in opinion. I have spent most of my life being told that laughter is the best type of medicine. 

I never had to worry about going out to eat by myself. I never gave thought to going for walks by myself since I had an endless supply of people to call that would accompany me. When I was home alone I quickly got on the phone with a friend or blared music and danced around like an idiot. 

As a reader, even when no one was available to hang out or talk on the phone, I always had a different dimension of friends. I would open a book and fall into this alternate universe where I was not bound to the chains of my little town. I would find joy, love, peace, sadness  and anger within the chapters that I hungrily plowed thru. 

When that didn’t interest me any longer, I began writing my own. First it was short stories, normally about a young girl like myself finding the love of her life and living happily ever after. When things in my life started to not look so bright, the stories felt the same treatment. The more often I wrote,  the more often I wanted to write. Soon I would lose hours a day into these characters that I would make up, causing my friends to think I was crazy. 

The books got longer, more complex, less romantic. That’s when I started to notice another trait about myself. Strangely for such a confident person who was loud and crazy, even on stage in front of a crowd, I couldn’t share my work. I became fiercely protective of it and would bite people’s heads off for trying to catch a glimpse. 

When I finally started to share any part of my writing I noticed it was similar to trying to tell someone my deepest darkest secrets. The biggest problem here I think is that if the person I shared with had ANY negative thing to say about what I had written, I hated them for it. It wasn’t friendly criticism in my eyes. They had betrayed me. Fiercely. I had no idea how to handle those feelings. 

It started to get to the point that I would let someone read it, to spell check or edit it, and then I would receive it back and throw it in a drawer. I wouldn’t look at it for weeks, months even. I am positive that I still have some laying around in totes that I saw too many handwritten notes on my beautifully typed manuscript. 

I still write, pretty often actually. I have gotten no better at handling people’s opinions on these stories that I make out if pieces of me. I have never brought my writing anywhere to have someone outside of my family edit it, which I like to blame on money but I trully believe is just plain fear of rejection in any form. 

This blog is meant to help me overcome the fear of other people reading things I write. This is my middle ground at attempting to believe in my own writing. 

Side note to all of this, is that as I have gotten a little older I have become more introverted myself. I now have found it awkward to hang around big groups of people and have noticed my own social circle has deflated quite a bit. Some by choice, some by disagreements that were too powerful to ignore, and others by death. I finally have learned that the good side of spending time alone is the ability to get to know your own self. 

Some days I miss you

I am a suicide loss survivor. 

That sentence still gets me. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. It is a stark sentence that immediately joins you into a society you want no part of.  

The look of shock and pity that used to come my way has faded since I stopped telling people. 

I am not ashamed. As the years continue to go by, life changes. You aren’t forced to explain where someone’s dad is, or having to explain where a missing family member may be. 

Instead it was my high school best friend. My first love. My first person of the opposite sex that I connected so well with, it was like it was meant to be. 

And then it was gone. 

And I was left to pick up the pieces and rebuild. 

Most days I’m fine. It’s been a long time. I have an amazing husband and family, new best friends and old memories that I’m left to question and doubt. 

But some days I miss you. 

Kids vs summer

As the kids have all gotten out for Summer break by now, I quickly see where the problem is going to be. 

There has to always be one. 

This year it will be electronics. I can’t stand how lazy electronic options have made my kids. If it’s not one thing it’s another. Kindles, televisions, Dad’s Xbox, older brothers PlayStation. 

Who care about bikes, scooters, trampolines and swimming pools that are all at out fingertips. None of that seems to matter. 

Today I got mad and told them that if I caught them just sitting and staring at the big dumb box any more without at least playing with Legos or army guys, that I would unplug the televisions for the whole summer. 

Man what a cool mom I’ve become. 

Let them miss you

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It is amazing how many ways that one saying, one picture, one song, can
 affect people. 

This is a saying that my Grandmother used to say to me when I would get 
into a fight with my neighborhood friends, or my cousins at a family 
get together. She would show up out of no where it seemed, just to put 
her arm around my shoulder and between huffing and puffing she would spit
this sentence out. As loving as she was, she wasn't as loving to her own 
self. So here she would pull her oxygen out of her nose, just so that she
could light her cigarette, and put the piece back into her nose to keep her 
breathing better as she pulled off that cancer stick. 

It's funny the way our memories come and go. 

Close your eyes

Imagine the place that gives you the most peace. 

Imagine not being surrounded by work drama, family or friends drama or even your kids drama. 

What gives you a reason to sigh with contentment? 

That momentary bliss? 

Go there. Make it a goal. Add it to your list. 

Simply because you need to surround yourself with things that keep you as happy as possible. 

Pick you. Choose you. Add you to your list. 

You are a priority. You are your OWN priority. Don’t wait to be someone else’s. 

Don’t forget. 

❤❤❤

Moment in time

Some days I hear a song, and I am immediately thrown back in time. 

Some days, I’m going about my daily life, and I catch a scent, and I instantly have tears in my eyes. 

Some days, I see someone from youre family, and I feel my heart skip a few beats, fighting the emotions. 

Some days, I come across a picture and I realize I forgot what your face looks like.

 I can’t remember your voice anymore. 

I don’t remember what your hugs feel like anymore. 

I don’t remember if you loved me or not. 

No words

Three months ago I sat in a sterile hospital room, next to a person that I had attended grade school with, and held her hand while she was told that her mother was riddled with cancer. It looked as if it had started out as pancreatic cancer, had now spread throughout her entire body.  The Doctor was kind as he explained to them that he had no real idea what the timetable was going to be but he didn’t think it would be long. I watched my old friend as the news started to seep in, and I realized that I have no idea how to comfort her. I looked to the other side of where I sat, and saw her brothers both turning a shade or two whiter while they both grabbed ahold of their wives hands.

I saw fear.

Today I hear that she will be burying her mother in just a few short days.  I still have no real idea how to comfort her. How could one ever be comforted after losing a parent? First of all my parents are alive and well, a blessing that I will take as long as possible.  Second of all, I haven’t gone thru it myself so I really can’t say I understand. I’ve never had to face cancer in the face like that. I have faced it through a healthcare workers vantage point, and as a friend to someone who had a friend or family member go thru it. I watched my sister go though it as her best friend lost the fight.

Being faced with your own mortality has to be life altering. Just knowing that your own body is turning against you would be devastating beyond words. 

Cancer is a mean, vengeful asshole who doesn’t like to take no as an answer. The fight is usually brutal. It strips you of your innocence in a matter of minutes, and never allows you another glimpse of it. All you can do is grab ahold and go along for the ride, having no clue where it will let you get off. You fight to keep your dignity and your pride, but more importantly, your life.

I am moved beyond tears, beyond words for the people that fight this. For the people that survive. For the people that are left to survive the loss.