While He’s Here

Just more horrible news to top off my already funky mood. A friend from work told me today that one of our other coworkers is joining the military because he wants to work as a paramedic in less fortunate countries. He says he wants to do good in the world. He’s just that type of guy, you know, big heart, still believes in the good in people. He wants to make a difference.

I felt like I was going to cry when she told me. With the way the world is today, this news frightens me. I want him to be safe. True, bad can happen anywhere in the world, but he’ll be so far away. My chest hurts thinking about it. I wonder if my heart is breaking.

Maybe I’m what’s wrong with the world, believing that my friend’s presence would do a world more good here, where people like me need people like him. He has an optimism about him that’s contagious and uplifting. I think it’s because he has so much faith in God. Every day when I come in for the morning, he’s sitting down to breakfast and praying. It’s not something you see every day and I admire him for it. In a time where faith isn’t openly spoken about, especially not in the workplace, he stays true to his. I really think my heart is breaking.

A few months ago he and I were talking about my relationship with the Mister and he was saying how lucky he felt the Mister is for having been brought together with the kids and I. He says this is what he wants, to meet a woman who already has children, children he can be a father to. He says he would be happy to meet someone and fall in love and then have kids, the traditional way, but that he doesn’t deny he would be happier to come into a ready made family. I didn’t know what to do with that when he told me. I still don’t.

He and I chit chat in passing, sometimes we end up working together for the day, but not often. I know he enjoys motorcross racing, the adrenaline that comes with it. I know he’s not afraid of hurting himself in the sport. I thought he was crazy when I first learned this about him. I still think he’s crazy.

I feel horrible about not wanting my friend to go to countries that aren’t safe right now. I feel horrible that his words made me cry today. But mostly my chest aches with a tremendous heaviness because in a life with so many who come and go, I’m about to have another one leave and this news couldn’t have come at a worse time.

I still admire him for his bravery and for his big heart, his desire to do good. I’ll pray for him every night until I forget about him. I know that sounds horrible but in reality, he and I are not that close and as time goes on I will have forgotten these feelings I’m feeling right now. But that’s a long ways off, just like his departure, so for now I’ll appreciate his presence and his friendship and mostly I will pray for him.

Advertisement

Rebirth

I wanted to hear from you today, I could’ve used your words. You would have said some poetic shit about how nothing was meant to last forever, except maybe our words, but even those will be forgotten over time. Don’t think I’m saying your words are shit, it’s only how I talk when I’m feeling like this and too often I censor myself for the little ears and eyes that I don’t think could handle the vulgarity of it. I save those words for my bound pages. I thought about writing in those bound pages today, I almost did, but so far I haven’t tainted them with what I write that I feel is crap. I’ve ripped a few out and will probably rip out many more before I decide the book is useless. What I really want to do is let you destroy me from the inside out, not literally of course, unless it would make you smile, but figuratively, so that I can start the process of being reborn. I feel dirty and disgusting right now, it’s what the building rage does to me, and a total reconstruction of my soul is the only solution. But the process is so damn exhausting and while I crave solitude, I become lonely when I’m in the depths of it. I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I needed to talk to you today. I wanted to be reborn.

Broken

Just like that my whole mood has been turned around. It’s like storm clouds have moved in with icy cold winds and pelting rain. What is it about you that sets my soul at unease? Maybe it’s nothing but maybe it’s something. Maybe it’s everything about you, maybe it’s nothing at all.

You set the damn fire burning in me, an anger so intense it makes my teeth feel numb, much the same as they do when I’m about to have an anxiety attack. How the hell do you do that every single time? My rational side keeps telling me it’s nothing, that it’s just the PTSD trying to make something out of it. Or maybe I’m right. I don’t know. I don’t have the strength. You make me weak.

I don’t want to think about it anymore but that’s not how my brain works. It’s turning and churning and whirling and spinning, all the while the rage is burning deep inside of me. Rage over nothing, the nothing that might be something but that is most likely nothing. I’ll spend the next week wondering if it was something or nothing, blowing the whole incident out of proportion. My mind is my prison and it wasn’t your fault. You only found me like this, you didn’t make me like this. But you can’t fix me either.

In My World

It’s so hard sometimes, being like this, living with a mind that picks something out of literally nothing. Letting the paranoia and anxiety get to me whenever I don’t even have all of the facts. But that part of me is so good at picking up on the most subtle of things, my brain hones in on these things, things I could live without hearing and seeing and knowing.

Sometimes I blame it on my writer’s brain. I blame it on my ability to pick out the most obscure details and turn them into things that they most definitely are not. Maybe not even most definitely, but at least probably not. I blow these “maybe nots” up into “probably are’s” and then over time they turn into “most definitely are’s.” It’s an exhausting way to live, but it’s all I’ve ever known.

I’ve spent the past two days building a fictional world, taking the time to create a place that I would very much enjoy living in, people I would very much like to know, and it makes me like my own world  a bit less. That’s the problem with writing fiction, reality is never quite as sweet. Not for me at least. I find myself becoming lost in these worlds, waiting patiently for the next moment when I can return to it. It’s like a drug, it’s my addiction.

I am exhausted. There are too many days when I am exhausted. These days it hasn’t been because of my overthinking brain though, it’s been a normal, pleasant type of exhaustion. It’s been one of work and children and puppies. I have too much to do and not enough time to do it, which is always better than having too much time and nothing to fill it with.

Sometimes I read these beautiful words and I wish they could be about me. I find myself wondering what would happen, what would have happened, mostly what could happen, if I was given the opportunity to experience life in these places, with these people and their words. Would they write words about Me? Have they written something about me? I could only hope so. But I am not there and they are not here and we never, ever meet and so really all I can do is hope that something I’ve said means more to you than it does to those who don’t even take the time to read these words. Those who should already know these words but for some reason don’t care to.

Weekend Coffee Share 06/25/17

Happy Sunday and welcome back to Write On for another Weekend Coffee Share! I hope you’re having a relaxing and/or productive weekend, whichever you’re needing. I also hope you’re staying cool in this weather! My phone’s weather app tells me it’s 84 degrees outside but the Mister keeps it nice and frosty in our home so it feels like it’s about 52… (That’s degrees Feherenheit for those in the world who go by Celsius. I have no idea what it would be in Celsius.)

If we were having coffee I would tell you that I’ve started writing fiction again! I’ve surprised myself with how the ideas have flowed. Maybe it’s because I actually created an outline this time and even character sketches. I’m pleased with the way the story is going although I’m afraid I’ve gotten a bit off track as of right now. I’ve created this whole “crazed person tries to break into woman’s coffee shoppe when I haven’t even revealed the reason someone might be after her. 😒 Leave it to my brain that jumps ahead. I still quite like the story though!

If we were having coffee I would tell you that these mosquitos will be the death of me. I don’t know how they get into the house but every now and then I see a stray one flying by, taunting me. I’m two seconds from telling the Mister we need to pack up and move out of the U.S. Do they have mosquitos in France? I could live in France…

If we were having coffee I would tell you that the Mister finally brought in one of our televisions from the garage and set it up in our bedroom and now we have Hulu! Surprisingly, the background noise has been good for my writing productivity, which surprises me. Usually I can’t write with any background noise at all. Maybe I’m turning a new leaf in my writing, maturing. That would be nice.

If we were having coffee I would tell you that last night the Mister and I and the kiddies went out to eat together. It’s been far too long since the last time we went out as a family and it was a lovely evening. Everyone except for our Oldest Daughter was stuffed from dinner and then we all came home and lounged together until bedtime. Earlier in the day I had been quite productive finishing up laundry and cleaning the kitchen. All in all it was a good weekend, minus the Girls fighting non-stop. Oh and the horrendous mosquitos… Did I mention the godawful mosquitos??? 😦

If we were having coffee, I would thank you for stopping by but a mosquito the size of a hummingbird has just flown past me and now I must extinguish it before I have a panic attack. I hope you had a lovely weekend and have an even lovelier upcoming week! I’ll try to catch up with everyone’s weekend Coffee Shares at some point this week! Until next time!

💕

Weekend Coffee Share- Sunday June 18, 2017

Welcome back to Write On for another Weekend Coffee Share! I hope you had a productive week last week and a lovely, relaxing weekend! Before I forget, a very Happy Father’s Day to all of the Dads out there! I hope you had a lovely, relaxing day being spoiled by those you love and that love you. ☺️

If we were having coffee I would tell you that this weekend was okay for the most part. I got an enormous amount of reading done, which made me extremely happy! I started and finished four (4!!!) books on my Kindle app, which not only surprised me but made me extremely happy as well! It seems that it’s been too long since I’ve really taken time out to read and I quite enjoyed doing it this weekend. I read Buried by C.J. Carmichael, The Goodbye Storm by Danielle Stewart, Follow You Home by Mark Edwards, and Scraps of Paper by Kathryn Meyer Griffith. These were all really good books and if you like suspenseful and/or mystery type stories I highly recommend the second two books!

If we were having coffee I would tell you that I didn’t get nearly as much done this weekend as I hoped to. I was still fairly productive, but not nearly as much as I would have liked to be. It seemed that every time I turned around there was one more thing for me to clean. It was exhausting. There’s never enough hours in the day for me and I oftentimes find myself overwhelmed. I’ll be glad when the school year starts again and the kids are back in school. It seems the school year is far more relaxing than summer is for me somehow.

If we were having coffee I would tell you that my stepmother, whom I have never been particularly close to and don’t particularly care for, texted me yesterday and asked me why she hadn’t heard from me in awhile. I told her what she should already know- I’m an adult who has three children, a significant other, a puppy and a job. Last time I checked I didn’t see her calling or messaging me at all either. She’s one of those who thinks the world revolves around her. 🙄 She put me in quite the nasty mood, a bad enough mood that I was so anxious about having to speak to her if I called my Dad to wish him a happy Father’s Day so I just didn’t call. I’m horrible person, I know. And I’m going to leave that situation at that before I say a lot of nasty stuff about this woman.

If we were having coffee I would tell you that the mosquitos here are freaking horrible. I have no idea how to get rid of them but they’re everywhere. Mosquitos are my arch nemesis and I have quite the phobia of them. I don’t know how they get in the house, I swear they’re breeding indoors. I spend 98% of my time at home killing the little buggers and they make my anxiety skyrocket. Why can’t I have a normal phobia like heights or elevators? Why does it have to be mosquitos? I hate them… 😧 (Also if anyone has any tips on how to kill them indoors, please feel free to share them. I’m two seconds from a panic attack. I can feel it.)

If we were having coffee I would tell you that’s really all that’s been new lately. I haven’t really written much because I’ve been so absorbed in my reading and in family life. I’ll try to catch up on everyone’s Coffee Shares this week. I do hope all you Dad’s had a lovely Father’s Day and I hope everyone has a lovely upcoming week! Until next time!

💕A.

Meet and Greet: 6/17/17

Meet and Greet Weekend is finally here! Come and discover some wonderful blogs, bloggers and new posts! 🎉🎂🎁🎈

Existence

Watching the truths of my childhood becoming the truths of my adulthood. Love does not exist, not like it does in the fairytales most grow up on and it’s disappointing. Settling for crude groping and inappropriate comments that make my skin crawl but that I call love, gifts that only money buy because it’s too difficult to try to show any other form of love. I tell myself this is as good as it gets. It’s exhausting succumbing to this life, one that I was tired of from the moment that I could understand it’s irony and cruelty. Yet here I am still, wading through the murkiness of it all. Performing mindless tasks every moment of every day, the only time I’m alive is when I’m pouring my mind, heart and soul out to eyes that cannot comprehend where I’m coming from. I’m all alone in this world, not another like me to help make the days a bit more bearable, a bit brighter, a bit more hopeful. On days like today I am weary and ready to give up. I cannot go another moment in this repetitive existence where there is no relief. I blame it on the lapse in my medication or maybe my paranoia is valid for a change. Maybe it’s always been valid and I’ve wrongly been trying to convince myself that I’m simply crazy instead. How tragic that would be. Searching for someone to share all of the small moments with, those moments that make my heart smile slightly, those moments that break through the darkness inside and I realize I have no one, no one that truly understands at least. Maybe I’ve had a spike in my hormones and it’s putting my brain and emotions off balance or maybe I’m right and I usually only turn a blind eye to these things because the truth is so damn painful sometimes. Until I take my last breath the only thing that matters is writing these words down and hoping that they reach the right person, someone who is like me.

Weekend Coffee Share 06/11/17

Happy Sunday! Welcome back to Write On for another Weekend Coffee Share! I hope you’re having a lovely end to your weekend and a productive beginning to organizing your mind, body and soul for this coming up week. 😊 It’s surprisingly been a cool (temperature wise) weekend here in West Texas. My weather app tells me different and is possibly correct seeing how I’ve been inside for most of the weekend.

If we were having coffee I would tell you that work has been stressful lately. Too many chiefs, not enough Indians. 😒 What is it about working with a group of women? It’s like we feel this prehistoric urge to be the alpha female, it’s ridiculous and embarrassing. (I’m not speaking of myself when I say this, I only worry about what I do at work, not what my coworkers do. It sounds horrible but that’s not what I get paid to do. 😒) I feel as though I’m stuck in the middle between two coworkers and it really sucks, they’re both my friends but now they’re just bickering constantly and I don’t entirely think our supervisor knows how to handle the situation. It’s just an unpleasant situation and I hate feeling as though I am stuck in the middle.

If we were having coffee I would tell you that I’ve been reading up a storm this weekend! Well, I’ve finished two whole books on my Kindle app, which was nice for me because it’s been such a long time since I’ve actually had the opportunity to sit down and read an actual book. I adore getting lost in fictional worlds. It’s therapeutic for me. 😊

If we were having coffee I would tell you that yesterday was my Oldest Daughter’s birthday and it was lovely! The Mister had to work all weekend but was off on Friday so we all went to his parent’s house to celebrate Oldest’s birthday. She made out like a Bandit with two journals, apparently trendy hairbows, a lip gloss making kit, a Fidget Spinner, and a beautiful necklace from her Grandma and Grandpa. It was a lovely day with Family. 💕

If we were having coffee I would tell you that tonight the Girls and I discovered baby bunnies in our backyard! They are a bit hidden in a hole and slightly covered by grass, but they’re alive and well. They’re too cute! The Mister is worried that the Puppy will try to eat them but so far she’s only been curious to look at them and the Mister and I have decided to keep her inside until he can assess the situation a bit more. They are too cute!

If we were having coffee I would also tell you that earlier a male dog was roaming the neighborhood and he and my baby dog have apparently become friends. 😄 He came to our screen door and sniffed at my baby dog who seemed smittened with him. 😄 They kind of kissed a bit (which was quite awkward) and then he went on his way. He had a collar on so I’m guessing someone is probably missing him and I tried briefly to track down an owner by walking up and down the street with him but he became distracted and wandered off to another family who was also outside. The family said if I didn’t find his owner they would be happy to take him off my hands, which I thought was extra shady but the dog ended up wandering off at some point.

If we were having coffee I would tell you this weekend has been quite exciting and I’m not particularly looking forward to work tomorrow. 😕 It’s hard to work when you feel uncomfortable around your coworkers. 😞 Hopefully the week will go by quickly and then I can come back into the comfort of my home that I love very much. Who knows, maybe more Baby animals will show up next weekend. 😊

I hope you’ve had a wonderful weekend and I look forward to catching up on everyone’s Coffee Shares! Thanks for joining me this weekend and I’ll see you all next Sunday! 💕

 

Alive

Some days all I yearn for is a beer. Something tall and dark, something Irish. I daydream about a bar I used to frequent in my early twenties, I was there nearly every night after work in the summers. I’d have a few drinks, half watching what was on the televisions behind the bar until it was well past time to drag myself off home to a life that I should have appreciated but very much didn’t.

I didn’t write much back then, not at all actually. I was too busy working fifty hour weeks and living life. Did I search for love back then? Sure. I’m always searching for love but up until half a decade ago I never found it. I sought adventure and noise, noise that would quiet the one ever present in my own head. It was never really quieted, but many times it was overpowered by the exciting, frivolous life I was living.

I drank mostly. In groups, in pairs, alone. I drank alone more often than not, mostly because my appetite and tolerance for alcohol far surpassed that of anyone else I knew. I oftentimes outdrank even most of my male friends, which I think impressed and disgusted them at the same time. Drinking was the only way I could escape from life. The only way I could be free. The only way I could be happy. Drinking silenced the insecurity, the irrational fears, the anxiety, the depression. Well, it silenced the depression for awhile and then it hit me full-force once I was done.

Some days I would dabble in other substances. Those are the days when I would write. I would think of the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland, the Mad Hatter, the Mad Queen, the White Rabbit. I would think of that magical world I had loved since I was a child and wish I could be there. I would chase substances and try to get as intoxicated as I could in order to just catch a glimpse. Never did I find it in my waking moments, but my dreams were always colorful. Now I wish I would’ve written more of those dreams down. It seems such a waste to have kept them to myself all of those years.

I can’t remember the last time I had a colorful dream. I can’t remember the last time I dreamt at all. The medication prevents me from remembering them. I can’t say this is a bad thing, I have more nightmares than dreams anyhow, but just for once I would love to remember one in detail. Something I could write about. Something I could share with you. I just can’t.

The pain has been unbearable the past couple of days, sparks of it that leave me convulsing. I’m not one for doctors so I suffer in silence. Yesterday as I was picking up last minute items for my daughter’s birthday, the pain nearly had me on me knees, right there in the electronics department. Sharp, stabbing pains and I convinced myself this was it, this was how it was going to end- in an aisle of a store, on my knees, only a few hours short of an early birthday party for my oldest daughter. The pain passed but revisited me early this morning. I’ll make it to a doctor eventually.

I want to write something that moves you to tears, that has you reflecting on your own life, that has you wondering more about mine. I want to fill you with words that have you pulling out your drawing pencils and sketch pads, bringing my words to life- magical places pencilled down for me to escape to when it all becomes too much, and it often becomes too much. I want to write something that inspires you to respond, inspires you to create, inspires you to remember. I want to write something to fill the space that drinking left, I want to write something that makes me feel alive.