Bonus Post: Birthday Anxiety

My birthday is in five days and I laid in bed this morning and cried over it. Why? Well, the basic reason is that I'm sure "the man" won't remember until Facebook reminds him and even then, he won't do anything more than text me Happy Birthday.

The deeper reason goes back a lot further. Some of you may know that my mother was abusive. I don't remember when it started, but I know that by the time I was in middle school, it was happening. She would get upset about something and scream at me. She would scream that she wished I'd never been born, that I ruined her life. Quite often this would come along with her slapping me repeatedly. Over the years, that has stuck with me like sap clinging to a pine tree.

So, ever year, when September rolls around, I start hearing her voice in my head. Except the message has changed slightly.  Now it's that nobody cares that I was born. Nobody cares enough to even go to the dollar store to get me a card and mail it out. It's not about the money, it's about the effort. Nobody loves me enough to make any effort.

People will point out how many Facebook comments I get that day wishing me a happy birthday. My brain will kick in and say, "Sure, but those take zero effort. You leave them for people all the time and it takes about two seconds of your life." To those people I'll smile and say "Yes, isn't it wonderful? So many people care."

It's getting better, I guess. It used to be the entire month. Last year it was the ten days leading up to my birthday. This year I made it to five days before my birthday. Except the next five days will be hell for me. I'll have a desperate urge to go and check the mailbox, even though I know there's nothing there. I'll look for UPS shipping notifications even though I know nobody has sent anything.

My birthday will be the worst because, in my head, it will be the day that yet again it is confirmed that I don't matter enough to anyone, not even the man I've been in a relationship with for five years, to make even the smallest of efforts. One year I received something like three cards and a friend had a cake delivered. It was the most amazing year, but the next year was a hard crash when none of those same people did it again. Still, for that one year, I felt loved and special and it was wonderful.

I've mentioned my birthday once or twice on Facebook, mostly because it sort of snuck up on me. I guess that's improvement. I've not shared an Amazon wish list even once (nobody has asked for one either). I've not posted any sort of countdown. I'm sure that people got tired of me mentioning it for an entire month...well, 23 days.

I've been asked if I have plans for my birthday and the answer is no. In the past, whenever I've made plans, the other people have cancelled them. Those were really tough blows for me and further proof to my brain that I didn't matter. I always hope someone will remember and invite me to visit or something, but that's never happened. I suppose I could buy myself a tiny cake and eat it, but doesn't that scream pathetic and nobody loves you?

No, it will be just another Wednesday. I'll be here, alone, working on a client's book. The only addition will be some tears as my mother's voice screams I told you so in my head.

When do you say goodbye?

I should be working. Instead, here I am again. I'm feeling really insecure today and I know why, no matter how much I want to ignore it. It's "the man." We've been together for over five years now. I've stood beside him as he fought for custody of his kids, decided if he wanted to stay married to his wife, and what feels like a thousand other things. I don't know though if he's stood by me. Honestly, I feel ignored and taken for granted. That's the problem when you love as hard as I do. People tend to figure out that you aren't going anywhere.

The first couple of years that we were together were great. We talked all the time either via text or email or sometimes both at the same time. At some point though, the emails stopped. Then, over time, the texts slowed down. He used to share ideas with me, send me pictures, and just be there whenever I needed him. I don't remember the last time he sent me a picture. I find out about his ideas via Facebook...and I don't remember the last time he told me that he loved me. He's never been one to say it frequently but I've never gone without being able to remember the last time. We used to fall asleep together, texting back and forth. Now he never texts me around that time unless it's every once in a great while to say goodnight. He used to always call me by a nickname that he had for me, now he never does. He used to tell me I'm beautiful, now he tells someone else.

It hurts. It hurts a lot. I realized that even when I ask him for something small...like a photo or a message, that he never does it. Twice in the past month he'd told me he'll send me photos "soon" or "soon enough." He hasn't.

The past few days he hasn't even responded to my texts really. I send him a lovely one yesterday morning and he ignored it. Last night, when he'd posted to Facebook that he was done writing, I sent him a message. His reponse? "Writing" ...except you just said you were done. I told him I'd leave him alone. I haven't messaged him since. He probably won't even notice if all day goes by and he doesn't hear from me.

It's so hard. When we're physically together, things are so good between us. We talk about things. When we're apart, I feel like he forgets about me.

Then, there's Rob. I'm so damn insecure with that. I don't know what he wants. I mean, he's made it kind of obvious that he wants to go back to how things were, but how can we? He destroyed me. Even today, when I told him that I'm feeling insecure, he didn't respond. I can't do that. I can't be intimate with someone who can't be there when I need someone to tell me that I'm wonderful and they love me. Of course as soon as I say he hasn't responded, he responds. Thirty seven minutes, but at least he knew he had to respond.

I don't know. The only thing that keeps me with "the man" is knowing how good we are together when we're together, but with covid, who knows when that might happen again. I just wish he'd tell me that he misses me at least. It's a stupid wish, but it's my wish. I could tell him that I need more from him, but I don't know what good it would do. He may just ignore that and then I'd feel even worse.

If I knew I had Rob to help balance things out, it'd be so much better. God, that sounds horrible, doesn't it? Except, in some ways, it really just is how I've come to work. I've long given up that I'll ever get married again. I don't know who could handle the semi-hoarding, the depression, the anxiety, all the time. I live with it and I annoy myself. Does that mean that deep down, locked away, there isn't a mad desire to have someone love me like that? Of course there is. All I've wanted my entire life is to be loved like that. I guess deep down I've never totally gotten over the idea that I don't deserve that.

Still, this past week it's become more and more clear to me what I want with Rob is the same thing that I wanted 15 months ago when all hell broke loose. It's not a "we're together when we're together" kind of thing, but a we're together because it makes us happy kind of thing. I want a partner...someone that is my safe spot, someone that I can do things with or do nothing with. I want not just a sexual partner, but an emotional one as well. I want someone who will tell me they love me and not just in the bedroom. I don't want to be a secret. I'm not saying we need to be "Facebook official" or even tell anyone about us, but if we're out, I want to be able to hold their hand. I want to sneak a kiss at the stoplight.

I don't want a husband. Not right now. I don't want to be physically with someone 24/7. I don't think it would be healthy for me or for another person. I'm not sure I can explain this properly, but I want to be with him when we can be, but when we're not, we're still okay and still us. We have lives of our own but those lives include each other. I don't need 24/7 communication, but I need open communication. I don't need to be "the" one, but I need to know that if someone else comes along, it won't mean that I'm kicked to the curb or left in the dark. Not again. I can't do that again.

In some ways, I've always seen us as two halves to a whole. We know each other and in the past, we were able to balance each other. Your soulmate doesn't have to be your lifemate. If we started with what we were before "the horror" but with what I thought we were when I last left him, that'd be amazing. If it moved on past that, well, that'd be what it'd be. I'm not going into anything with the hopes that it will turn into something more. I've spent too many years being alone and being told things could never be more in the relationships that I've been in. Like I said, I don't truly believe that I deserve that whole "happily ever after - white picket fences" thing. Most of the time I'm okay with that. I just want us to be okay, but okay together again.

Ugh. These are all things that I should just be telling him, but I'm afraid to. I'm afraid that he is going to tell me how he doesn't want another relationship after just ending such a toxic one. I mean, it's not like that's unreasonable, but we can't go back to what I thought we had before. I need more. I need reassurances. Most of all, I really need a freaking hug and to be told that it'll be all right.

Edit: Well, I asked him. I sent him a text asking what it was that he hoped for or wanted. His response? He doesn't know. He didn't know if I'd even answer him. He had just wanted to apologize and explain himself. He did that...August 31st. I guess after that it was just easy to fall into old habits...I think I'm going to go cry now and then fill out this paperwork that I forgot to do yesterday. It's better than hyperventilating my way into an asthma attack.

Weekly Update: I'm Lonely

I've probably titled a blog post this before, but I have a bit of a headache and I'm just not feeling creative with the titling today. Hopefully that clears out because I'm hoping to do a bit of writing later today, after I do a bit of working.

I'd say the past week has been pretty good. I haven't heard from Rob in a couple of days, but I'm not surprised. I don't think that he's necessarily pulling away, more just being him. It's been a long time since when we'd speak every day. I miss it, but I know that's not where he's at anymore. Hell, I miss "the man" talking to me every day but that seems to be a thing of the past too.

The reality is, and I know I've said it before, but I'm lonely. With the boys having lives of their own and almost never being here, I'm alone far too much. I miss Rob a lot and how we used to talk and joke around. I miss "the man" and how he used to tell me I'm smart and beautiful and how we would just talk. Now he's always busy and I suspect part of that busy is with someone else. Our relationship has always been an open one, but we said we'd be upfront and honest if anyone else came into the picture. He hasn't been, but it's been pretty obvious for a while now that there's someone else.

But, either way, I'm lonely and covid is just making it worse. I can't go and see either of them or anyone else. NaNoWriMo is going totally online this year and while Zoom calls are great, they're just not the same as being in the same place as other people. Ben and I go out to eat sometimes and while maybe we shouldn't, it gives me a tiny feeling of normalcy and of being around people. Right now all of my socialization comes from taking Ben to his physical therapy appointments. Tomorrow is his last one of those.

Other than that, I'm home alone all of the time. It weighs on me. I feel trapped. Sometimes I just cry. There's nothing really wrong. I just feel so alone. It's hard to feel motivated when sometimes you have no hope that this will ever end.

I went to a virtual birthday party last night. Honestly, I wasn't sure that I wanted to because I knew I'd probably only know the host and so many of his friends are doing amazing things. I don't feel as if I fall under the "cool enough" category. I went though because my loneliness overwhelmed my social anxiety. It was okay. People were friendly and I was only chastised once. I didn't walk away feeling better though. When it was over, I knew I'd probably never speak to these people again. No bonds were formed. I miss the intimacy of close friendships. I don't know how to have that when those few that are close to me are busy having lives of their own and not struggling like I am.

It used to be when I felt like this, I would pack up my laptop and I'd go to the library or the pie place and I'd spend all day there just being around people and writing. With covid, that's not an option. I cannot believe that I'm sitting here crying while I'm writing this. I feel like if anyone ever reads this they're going to tell me to pull it together and stop being ridiculous.

The truth is though that I'm still scared of Rob. I'm afraid he's going to disappear or not answer if I text him. I'm afraid he isn't the Rob that I half fell in love with over and over again. I'm afraid to reach out to him because what if he hurts me. This whole emotional thing is exhausting. Like everyone else, I just want life to be normal again. I'm pretty sure that part of my brain spends most of its days worrying that it'll never be that way again. I know it won't be for me. My boys are grown, they're living their own lives, and can't/don't take time for their mom. This is normal. I've done such a good job that they don't fear their independence and that's a good thing.

I tell people that I love living in the village...and it's true, but I don't have any friends here. I don't have any family. I've thought about moving closer to friends or "the man" but I'm scared. The last time I did that, it didn't go so well. The "friend" who rented me a tiny apartment in his house turned out to not be my friend at all, just someone who wanted my money and thought he could use whatever of mine he wanted whenever he wanted. He'd just walk into my apartment whenever he wanted. So, it's left me gun shy. What if I move somewhere where I'm close to someone I love and they act like I'm not even there.

I feel like I'm becoming more and more high maintenance as a friend. I need attention. I need someone who gets excited when I come up with a new project and I'm excited. I need someone to share things with and right now, I don't feel as if I have that. Justin tries, but he's so busy with his life that we don't really talk. He hasn't called me in months. I miss talking to him.

Like I said...I just feel very alone and miss "my" people so much right now. I wrote two stories this weekend for my new book and it's such a big deal to me. "The man" told me to keep writing, Justin read them and gave me good feedback, and I didn't even tell Rob. I guess because I posted it on social media...but he hasn't looked at my social media in years. I use these three men as an example simply because they're the three people closest to me. I don't expect my kids to get excited.

I dunno. Covid sucks. We all know this, but I guess I'm just realizing the toll that it's taking on my mental health. It's a toll that I'm not sure that I can pay and I wonder of the long term consequences. Do me a favor...look in on those who spend their lives alone. Don't get so caught up in how you're not lonely because you have a partner or co-workers that you forget those of us who don't have that. I can guarantee that I'm not okay. We all need a certain level of being connected to others and having that severed is so hard.

Still, I don't want to leave this post 100% depressing, so a challenge I've often given my oldest...
3 good things:
1. I wrote two stories on the new book.
2. The board I shoved in my couch is preventing me from sitting in the springs.
3. Apollo and Mina seem to be adjusting well.

I'll stop there and let the few of you who read this get back to your week. I hope it's an amazing one.

Weekly Update: God What a Week

God, what a week. Monday was okay, I guess...Well, no, it wasn't. On Monday, we realized that we didn't think Mittens was eating. We couldn't be 100% sure though. On Tuesday, when I couldn't coax her to eat wet food or tuna, I knew we had a problem and I called the vet. They were booked, but the vet herself called me back around 7pm that night. She offered to leave out antibiotics or I could bring her in the following morning. My gut said to take her in, so I did. I haven't really told anyone what happened and I know this is going to make me cry, but ...

When we got there, the assistant directed me to take her and wait under the gazebo. They don't allow humans inside the practice right now. A few minutes later, the vet came out and took her back to take her temperature. Just a few minutes passed before she came out and told me that Mittens had lost over half her body weight since they'd seen her just two years before. I knew she'd lost weight, but she's always been so dainty that I didn't realize it was that bad. She told me we could do blood tests, iv fluids, but there was only one or two things that she may recover from and she'd have to be treated for the rest of her life. I asked if we gave her fluids (she was severely dehydrated), how long before we'd know if they were helping. The vet told me that if I was planning on putting her to sleep if they didn't work, she'd rather I just do it then instead of having Mittens last day being poked and prodded. I knew then that there was no hope...my heart shattered when I told the vet that that's what we should do. She went in, gave her the shot, and then brought her back to me in her carrier. We sat there under the gazebo, the wind blowing softly, and her head bumping my hand for loves right until she passed. The vet came out and wrapped her in a baby blanket before taking her away. I went to my car and tried not to sob while it took both assistants to figure out how to bring me the flea meds that I needed for the other cats. Then, I went to Dairy Queen, got a cherry slush and cried my way back home.

That afternoon or maybe it was Thursday, a friend approached me about what had happened on a webshow that I'm often part of (or was..I suspect that's very over). He didn't know how to handle it and was super sweet about not wanting to bother me with it, but as we're both in the same line of work, it affected me too. My brain was mush from grief but I felt as if I had to make a stand. I posted a long post to Facebook that basically boiled down to "If you're an asshole, I won't work with you." I never called out anyone, said anything about the webshow or any of its hosts. It really wasn't about them. It was about me. It was about my career. It was about standing up for what's right. Hate groups, no matter the direction of the hate, aren't right. If you know me, you know hate isn't even in my vocabulary. It's an alien concept to me. I can't understand why anyone would hate anyone just because they're different.

I wish it had ended there. It didn't. People commented, mostly in support. One or two seemed thinly veiled but I let them go. I got private messages. One was from the guy who runs the network the webshow is on. He asked who had pushed me to write what I wrote. I told him it didn't matter, that I'd said what I'd said and I'd stand by it. I did tell him that there was some concern with one of their hosts. He defended the host. His choice. At this point, I was already unable to focus, half unable to form sentences due to the loss of Mittens and the ugliness that was rearing its head. I was leaning heavily on a couple of friends who were seeing what was happening.

I announced that I was slowly going to bring back Geek-o-Rama, a site that I've ran for over 8 years and got a not even slightly veiled slap out at me. It hurt. I won't lie. I had people who I considered friends turn on me. Why? Because I said I wouldn't work with assholes. If you don't know, there are a lot of assholes in the comics community. Some belong to a group called Comicsgate. I won't get into their details, but they're a hate group. Some who belong...well, it makes no sense, but they're like lambs to the slaughter or something.

Anyway, it was too much for me. I was crying constantly. I was angry. I was exhausted. Then, Friday night, just when I was praying it was all over and I was going to go to bed, a bat started swooping around my living room. I opened the door to let it out and two of my cats ran out. It was midnight. I couldn't find them in the dark. Hell, I was on my front porch in a tank top and underwear trying to get them back in. I finally did go put pants on. After 90 minutes, I managed to get both cats inside and locked up in the bathroom. I said fuck it to the bat and went to bed, shutting the 3rd cat with me in my bedroom. A few hours later, I woke up to find one of the bathroom cats laying on me. My door appeared to be shut. I honestly thought I had snapped, that I had lost my mind. I kept looking at him, looking at the door, trying not to freak out...and after a few minutes got up, realized my door was not latched, went downstairs to go to the bathroom and discovered the other two sitting on the table. Somehow they'd managed to open the bathroom door and then my bedroom door.

Yesterday, I woke up with a splitting headache and spent most of the day curled up in bed, sleeping. There was some more crap, but honestly, at this point, I don't even remember because it was three solid days of ugly. Ugly people...I kept thinking of Caliban and how he used to talk about how people would throw shit at you. Today, I still slept quite a bit but I'm happy to say that the headache is gone. I did have a run in with stupid though. Nick Gibson unblocked me so that he could refund me the $15 that I spent on his Kickstarter (see previous post about trouble in the industry). When I told him that I didn't accept money through Facebook, he told me too bad and that now me and my cronies could stop harassing him. The word cronies was quite the hit when I posted the screenshot. People wanted to know how they could become a crony. So much so that it's spawned a Facebook group for fans of me. I couldn't help but laugh at that one. While there are some serious assholes in the industry, there are just as many amazing people.

Now, I'm days behind because of all of this..and I probably still need a good and proper cry. I forgot to mention that DHS determined that I make too much money to get less than $200/mo in food stamps. I made $7600 in 9 months. It's insane and one more level of stress to deal with, but since they only work 9am-3pm, it'll have to be dealt with another day.

Right now, I need a good cuddle in the man's arms and a chance to unwind...since the first won't be coming for god knows how long, I'll just have to put in another movie and try to relax...

Weekly Update: Numb

Have you ever seen those commercials for Bipolar medication where they talk about how bipolar depression is different? That it can leave a person feeling numb? That's where I've spent most of the past week. Absolutely numb. I don't seem to feel joy, sadness, anything. I've either slept or laid on the couch watching tv. I've not been on social media...and the only ones to notice? My kids. Both have texted or called to see what's up. Nobody else has reached out. If I were feeling anything, that would bother me.

On Friday, I found out that my uncle died. The one that I actually liked until he broke his word to me. I know I should feel something, but I don't. Even if I could, I'd have mixed feelings. The one thing that broke through the numb was the anxiety of attending his funeral. I won't be going. I might send flowers. After all, I'm not a heartless bitch. Not that I owe any of them anything. I don't.

Have you ever wanted to smile but it felt wrong or unnatural? I'm dealing with that too. I watched react videos last night and I'd have these little tugs of smiles but they were mere flashes. They felt uncomfortable.

On top of everything, I ran out of grocery money two weeks ago. That's what I get for shopping like a normal person and not someone poor as hell. I managed to stretch things out until the end of the week but since then I've been eating one meal a day and mostly because I make myself go and pick something up. Subways 2 for 1 subs have come in handy. I'm spending money I shouldn't but it's that or starve. The grocery store is 15 miles away and I need gas in my car. Again, I feel like I should feel something about this...worry...something...but I don't. It's just four more days until I have grocery funds again. I had 3 oreos (found a package in my car that I forgot I bought for the boys) and some water for breakfast.

I should work today. I made a to do list yesterday, but the reality is that there's not much point. I'd end up redoing it all anyway. Honestly, just turning on my laptop felt like a big deal today. I don't really want to be behind it. I want to just lay down again. If my bladder didn't insist, I don't know that I'd get out of bed. I guess it's good that I have no desire to wet the bed...I care about that much.

Sleep is hard at night. My brain relives every bad thing that it can think of. They don't hurt...because I'm numb, but it's hard to sleep. The past couple of nights it's been how the three men that I've loved most in my life all moved on and are with other women. They're all happy. I'd think about the happy times and then the moments when they'd betrayed me. It's an ugly place inside my head. Maybe that's why I then sleep during the day...often until 4pm or later. I'm protecting myself from myself.

Anyway, I wish I had better things to say, but the reality is that I'm not sure why I'm writing this other than to force some normalcy into my world. Everything became just too much and I feel wrapped up in cotton wool...perhaps just trying to block out the outside world.

Weekly Update: Rollercoaster Ride

My god, what a week this past week has been. What a mess our country is. I'm not going to get into all of that because my god, how do you begin to unwrap that? Other than...stop being assholes, people. We all have a right to be who we are and what we are. That's that. Let's try to unwrap my week...

I spent a lot of last week trying not to melt in the humidity that comes with summer around here. Yep, I know, it was/is still spring, but it didn't feel like it. It felt like we just plain skipped over spring. Wearing a mask was miserable, but I did it anyway. Also, I'm happy to report that my almost panic attacks while wearing the mask have lessened. Maybe it's like some sort of forced therapy. Either way, I'd rather wear it than not.

The big news from this past week was that I received the proof copy of my book. I've never been so excited/nervous at the same time, I don't think. Opening it was like ...Christmas morning. I was nervous that it'd be a mess, but it was beautiful. All of the images were in the right spot and look amazing. My friend, Eric, did such an amazing job with them. I actually did a livestream of me opening the package and showing it off. That was fun. Quite a few people popped in and everyone seems to be really excited for me. I hope they're that excited for the book too.

Bonus for the week was that Ben was able to spend the weekend here. We were mostly lazy, but I did get more of my studio done and tackled some of a new client's project. I also got my plants into planters. I didn't buy a lot this year simply because finances won't allow it and Walmart is pretty slim pickings. Still, I have 3 tomato plants (one might not make it. It's pretty sad looking.), a planter with some flowers in it, 2 types of thyme and a sage plant. I may try to dig out the flower bed along the side of the house and see about planting some tulips or something there in the fall. All of the beds are a total disaster and half of my tire planters have trees in them now. I'm not sure what to do about that. It'll probably require hiring a professional to come and take them out. Ick.

Now, on the downside for the week...Well, y'all know what's happened and I won't rehash it. I will say though that it has my anxiety spiking really high. It's hard to sleep because my brain gets in a loop of what ifs. Last night I didn't sleep worth anything and then was woken up around 7:30am because they were working on something out in front of my house. I have no idea what. They're going to be digging up the drain pipe and clearing it out, but I'm in the middle of the block so it makes no sense to start there. Either way, they were loud enough that I didn't get to go back to sleep when I badly needed it. Just have to keep on pressing on, I guess.

Roger will be here soon and I'd like to be about done with work when he gets here, so time for me to sign off for now! If, on the off chance, you'd like to check out my book, there's a pre-order for the ebook up on Amazon now. That and the print version will release on July 14th (which happens to be my anniversary).

As always, talk to me if you need an ear...mine are available...

Bonus Post: Freaking Out

Guys, I don't know if it's the caffeine talking or what, but I'm spazzing a bit tonight. As some of you know, I have my very first book (Tales From the Toy Store) coming out this summer. I'm very close to having it completed. I'm just waiting for the illustrator to finish the cover and write up his bio. Then, I insert those and send it off to Amazon where it will be published. After I go over a proof copy, it will be ready for print.

All this is great and exciting...except when it becomes an anxiety fueled "fun fest."  I'm being reminded that comic/geek podcasts won't want me on as guests because what I'm "selling" isn't their audience. This means stepping out of the industry that I've been hiding on the fringes off and trying to find podcasts that are interested in supporting children's authors. I'm sure it's as simple as doing some research, but I'm freaking out about it. The podcasts I could do now are done by friends, people I'm comfortable with.

I'm going into a spiral of oh god, what if I can't find an audience for this book? What if nobody buys it? What if I'm a total failure?

Then, as if that's not enough, tonight I was offered a video podcast of my own if I want it. I could make it about whatever I wanted but it was suggested that I do one where I bring on indie novelists. Create my own space to talk about this kind of thing. I could do it...I could fit it into my schedule...I know a few people I could have on as guests, but what do we talk about? My interviews have always been silly in nature and done in a matter of minutes. Could I somehow take that concept and make it a popular show segment? I don't know.

Did I mention that I was approached by someone about taking a job this summer writing blurbs for other people's books? This is something I profoundly am not good at...okay, I'm mediocre at it, I just like to think I suck. I was assured though that they would train me to write them in the style that they use. It's not as if I can't learn. It's not as if I couldn't use the money. My business is doing okay, but I'm always looking for new projects and new clients for during the quiet times.

So much feels as if it's flying at me all at once and while none of it is bad, it's a bit overwhelming and I don't know what to do. I'm frozen from making decisions or progress. I really don't like when I get this way. I'm sure that y'all understand. It's also bedtime but because I'm wound up, I won't sleep.

Anyway, tomorrow is the next big day for my book. I'm going to be doing a live reading of the first story that I wrote for the book. It also happens to be the first story in the book. I'm worried that nobody will be there. How can I raise excitement if nobody listens? See what I mean? Spiral. I can't let myself do this. I need to pull it together and make some decisions. I need to find my way through this.

I need for this book to do well. I'm not looking for NYT best seller. I'm looking for sells more than 50 copies. 100 copies would be a dream come true. It would be proving to myself that I could do this. It would be proving to me that I really am a writer and a good one. I want to write for the rest of my life and it starts with this book.

Deep breathes...I can get through this and tomorrow will be a new days to start making new steps, right?

Weekly (Monthly) Update: Holy Wow...

Gah! Just when I think life is balancing out, there's a global pandemic. I handled the first week or so well. Roger was here and we were finding our new normal. I suppose maybe I ought to back up. Roger, for those who don't know, is my youngest and a college student at Michigan State. The school decided to go to online courses and to send as many students home as possible. For 24 hours, I had Ben and Dylan here. Then, they went to my ex-husband's house and I picked up Roger from college. I really like having him here. At the end of a week though, he decided to go over to his dad's as well with the plan of coming back here in a week.

Well, as of today, that plan is on hold. The governor issued a stay home order. We're allowed to go out to get groceries and things like that, but otherwise, we're to stay put for the next three weeks. You'd think that wouldn't phase me because I normally spend stretches of time like that alone, but it's made me anxious as all get out. I can feel a depression hovering around me. I just want to nap all day. I know I'm not the only one feeling like this.

So, what's a girl to do? Well, I made a list of 5 tasks to get done every day. I decided to tackle my laundry room. It's not in a bad shape, but it could use a bit of a face lift. The litter boxes need changing, shelves need to be wiped down...little things like that. I've broken them down over the week. Next week, I'll make a similar list but the room of focus will be the bathroom. That room needs a good scrub down. Since we're in this situation for three weeks, I'll have to decide which room will come after that. Maybe the living room...or I'll start working my way into "the wall" (aka my studio). I haven't decided yet. Thinking that far ahead freaks me out a bit. One day at a time right now.

Will my list work? It's hard to say but it gives me a focus. I also have client work which once I get started doing holds my attention for as long as I work on it. I guess I need to try to make life as normal as possible right now. One day at a time, one minute at a time, whatever it takes. I'll be doing livestreams on Facebook once a week, I think. Just something to connect with other people. None of us are alone in any of this and it's important for us to remember this.

Take care of yourselves and each other. Stay home. The sooner we all do this, the sooner we can all get together for a huge social dinner...or something...

Much love to everyone out there.

Weekly Update: Pneumonia

Ugh. You may have noticed that I haven't updated in a couple of weeks. That's because I managed to get pneumonia. It's been two weeks and while the doctor assures me that I'm getting better, it sure doesn't much feel like it. Okay, I no longer have a crazy fever but I am still coughing until I throw up sometimes. The cough is dry and deep. I feel like a braying donkey or something...something not cool...lol.

Other than that, I've been struggling a bit with believing in myself. For ages, I've wanted to be a writer, but now that the chance is here, I feel as if I suck at it and nobody would ever read anything that I wrote. Due to being sick, I've had zero imagination as my body focuses on the act of breathing. Feeling blank scares me and part of me wants to just give up on this dream. What if nobody ever reads my stories? I gave a dozen beta readers my book of children's stories about a month ago and not a single person has read them. That's insanely disheartening. What if it sucks? What if what I thought was good is really, really bad? Ugh. I'm at the point where I want the feedback, but I don't want the feedback. I guess all I can do is wait and see if anyone reads the book. It's not like it's ready to go to print. I still need 4-5 pieces of art for inside of it and I've only sent the artist reference photos for 2 of those pieces. On top of that, I still need to come up with a cover.

Then, there's the last book of The Tether Saga. I sent it to Nick weeks ago. He said he read it, that it was a good base, and that he had a ton of notes for it. In essence, I'm hearing that I have to rewrite the entire thing. At first, I was excited about getting notes back, but as my health continues to suck and he continues to not send me the notes, my self doubt is sky high. What if I failed at that too?

Argh. Pneumonia is not good for self-esteem. It's left me too isolated but too sick to pull myself up out of this funk. Maybe once I'm feeling better and the holidays are over, I'll try to come up with enough money to take a night away at a hotel where I can take a long, hot shower and then sit and focus on what I really want/need for my own health and well being. Not like resolutions, but some self-awareness. I know me. I know what works and what doesn't work. I just have to decide what's worth working for and what needs to be put behind me. I can't imagine not writing which is weird because I seem completely incapable of writing right now. Maybe I just need all the notes from Nick and from the beta readers. Maybe they won't say you suck and maybe if they do, it will be constructive  and I can improve.

For now though, I'm going to try to get better. The coughing leaves me exhausted and I feel like I nap way more than any human being should, but it is what it is. Bonus is that my youngest is due to walk through the door any time now and that will lift my spirits. It's been pretty dang lonely sitting here all by myself while everyone is so busy with the holidays. It's good for me that he's going to be here for a few days. He's going to help me finish getting ready for Christmas and has suggested we do a bit of gaming. Yeah, it's good to not be all alone....

Weekly Update: Tired

Holy crow, y'all. I'm tired. That's the only way to describe how I feel right now. It's the kind of tired that affects everything. I'm hyper aware of what's happening around me. I'm super duper emotional. It sucks. Oh my god, it sucks so much.

I'm actually at a NaNo write in right now, writing this. I know, it's not a novel, but it's words and words count. I needed to do this today because tomorrow I'm picking up the oldest and taking him to pretty much finish up his holiday shopping. Yeah, I know. He's like done. It's crazy. As for me, I don't even know if we'll have a Christmas at my house this year. I've had zero projects come in and that means zero income. Zero income equals zero spending money for presents.

I know that it's really about time together and all of that, but it doesn't stop me from wanting to have things for my kids. They're still teenagers, not grown ups. I don't know yet what I'll do. I keep hoping that something will come through. I'm not giving up all hope.

Did I mention I'm tired? heh...Yep, that just popped into my head again. I am worn the heck out. I'm now on day 26 of a heavy period. How heavy? A week ago I bought a package of pads that advertised it was a 3.5 month supply. I'm stopping by the store tonight to buy more. Yeah...that heavy. Gross, huh? Super gross. I love being a girl, but right now, I don't love having a uterus that's acting cuckoo for cocoa puffs.

That's another side effect of all of this. I have a constant desire to eat. That's not helpful when you need to lose weight, DHS has cut you back to $16 in grocery money each month, and you have a kid coming over that you need to feed. Yep. Yippee!

The odd thing? Even with all of this going on, I'm in good spirits for the most part. Sure, I have moments where I break down crying, but if you look at my mood journal, you'd see mostly average days. Average is good. I like average.

Somehow we'll get through this rough patch. I always do. I have zero idea how this time, but hey, that's okay...that's life, right?

Now, back to proofing my children's anthology! I'm still waiting for Nick to send me the notes to Nevermore so I'm not sure what the timeline is for that. I had kind of hoped by the end of the year, but that's looking very unlikely. If I can manage to track him down, that's something else to talk to him about. Somehow I'm suspecting it's not his top priority project. Ahh well...the life of a writer is so glamorous, eh?

Time to focus on what I can focus on and keep going.
Love you all!

Weekly Update: Depression

It's been a rough week and I'm not going to pretend otherwise. That would be lying to all of you and lying to myself and that's just not healthy.

Let's see...where to start...I guess with the car. I think I mentioned that I was having car trouble and about $600 short on getting it repaired. Well, I managed to come up with $250 and someone loaned me the other $350 so I went and got the brakes/rotors/calipers all taken care of. Unfortunately, the mechanic came out with more bad news in that the other wheel bearing is now making noise. That's another $450. I don't have it. Not a single penny of it. My editing sale brought in nothing, nor did my stick figure art sale. I did sell about $20 worth of books but that went towards the last repair. I'm trying to remain calm but it's hard.

Speaking of money, it turns out that my oldest makes too much money for us to really remain on food assistance. Due to his income (none of which is really a part of this household), they've cut me back to $16/mo. I have no idea what to do about that. Since he's splitting time between here and his father's, perhaps it'd be better to drop him as part of the household. I really don't know. I just know that nobody can live off of $16/mo in food and my income doesn't allow for me to cover groceries quite yet. That's a dream of mine...a goal...

So, as you can probably tell, money has me beyond stressed out. I don't know what I'm going to do. There's also a lot of little financial things that are trying to be the straws that break the camels back. On top of the financial stuff, I had to miss two major events that I had planned on attending due to the car and other finances. It was incredibly hard on me to see my friends and other people I know having a jolly grand time at them, knowing that I should have been there too. It's so hard being poor.

I'd like to say that I have some brilliant plan as to how I'm going to fix all of this, but all I can do is try to keep moving forward the best that I can. I'm waiting now for a client to pay me in hopes that he does so before my insurance company tries to pull funds. It should be okay, but it's a scary waiting game.

I keep thinking that the book sale was supposed to help pay to get my dryer repaired and a new stove/oven (I've been without one since March) and here I am trying to figure out car repairs. It doesn't take much to start a stress spiral it seems. I honestly have considered a GoFundMe, but I don't know if anyone would pitch in. I keep hearing that everyone is in the same boat. God, I sure hope not. It's a rather terrible leaky little thing and my bucket has holes. I'd not wish this on anyone else.

Like I said, all I can do is keep trying to move forward the best that I can. I know that not many people read this blog, but I'm going to post the links to my sale and to my book sale here, just in case someone may be interested...

Editing Sale
Book Sale

Have a great week, everyone and take care of yourselves and each other.

Weekly Update: Stress

image courtesy of apa.org

Whew! This week has been nonstop stress. One of the biggest stressors for me is if something goes wrong with my car and sure enough, not one thing, not two things, but three things went wrong with it! First, I took it in to have a wheel bearing checked. Yep, it needs replaced. Then, it was a headlight. Yep, some dongle thing needed replacing.  Oh, and by the way, the front brake pads, rotors, and calipers need replacing. Thanks to all of the amazing clients who have sent work my way recently, I had the funds for the first two. The third? The one that's $600? Nope. Thanks again to those clients, I've raised $250. That leaves me $350 short and it's had me in a stress spiral for the past couple of days. It's hard to focus on getting things done. If I don't have a car, I'm trapped where I live. There is no public transportation in the middle of nowhere.

Other than that, things are okay. We're just about ready to have someone come in to check on the furnace and water heater. I've been busting my butt. We've hauled 9 trash bags to goodwill and I have another 4 ready to go. I've lost track of the numbers of bags of trash we've hauled out along with broken fans and things like that. I'm proud of that.

I'm also proud of my youngest who performed in his first college Jazz concert the other night. He had an amazing solo and I'm so glad that I took the chance of driving over. It was worth every worry along the way.

This week is all about trying to find the funds for the car, working more on the house, and wrapping up a couple of client projects. If any of you are looking for a proofreader, please don't hesitate to reach out.

Dipping and Birthdays

Okay, it isn't my birthday. Not until tomorrow. However, it's really affecting me today. You see, I guess at some point, I stopped feeling loved or cared about and my birthday was a solid reflection of that. After my divorce, nobody paid any attention to it really. Well, that's not true. I had one friend who did. I guess I started seeing my birthday as some kind of indicator of whether or not I deserved to remain on this planet.  I can't believe I'm writing about this. I don't think I've ever fully told anyone why my birthday matters so much to me...

Anyway, some years were bad...for my 30th, I was raped by someone I trusted. For my 35th, someone threw a birthday party for me that nobody showed up to. Others were pretty good...one year, I got three or four cards and half a dozen presents. That was a really good year. I felt so loved. This year? Well, my birthday is tomorrow and there have been no cards or gifts that have arrived.

In years past, this would have been an issue for me starting a week to two weeks before my birthday. I'd have been checking the mail box every day, even checking my Amazon wish list to see if anything had been bought. This year, I made it to two days ago for the mail box and today for the depression. That's progress, but it's still hard. Part of me screams...I just want to be loved. Why can't you show me that you care? A card would cost as little as $1.50 to buy and send, aren't I worth your time? Blah.

Social media hurts in these situations. People post about their birthdays...the dinners, the cakes, the cards, the presents...and it hurts. People also post to my wall and feel like that's enough. It's nice, especially if we aren't close, but it's not the same as knowing that someone took the time to make a real effort. Ugh. I just flipped to Facebook to answer a message and what do I see? Someone's birthday with dinner out, balloons, cake, and presents. See? That's just what I mean. I'm happy for the person, but it's like a stab in the heart to me.

I know, deep down, that I shouldn't take one day and use it as a determining factor of my worth. I know that I shouldn't, but still, there's that piece of me...that really mean voice...that tells me that nobody loves me, they love what I can do for them, for how I can make them feel, but that they don't love me. I hate that voice. She's a bitch. She's just plain mean.

So, today, I'm sad. I'm next to in tears sad and it's not really anybody's fault. It's this whole birthday thing. I wish I could hate birthdays but I don't. I love them. I love celebrating the days that my favorite people joined the world on this planet. Somehow, I even love mine. That makes zero sense, but it's true. Maybe it's the part of me that's happy to be alive. I'm not really sure. I'm not really sure that this post makes any amount of sense, but here it is...Love to all who are struggling...

Little Victories = Big Anxiety

They say that the smallest victories can lead to the biggest results or that success is just a series of small victories. That maybe true, but for me, right now, my series of small successes/victories has led to some seriously high anxiety. 

Let me tell you about my week...

On March 28th, I signed my first ever comic contract. It was for a book that I've already done two issues on, but to be asked to sign a contract to make it official an all of that felt like a really big deal and it made me feel good that the creator really appreciates the work that I do for him.

On April 2nd, I spent all day, literally, creating a resume and cover letter and then sending them off for a job that could be a good thing for me. I haven't had a job outside of the house in twenty years and my hands were shaking as I sent the email. The idea of working outside of the house is scary for me. The outside world can be scary for me, but I did it anyway. I pushed past the anxiety at least to a point where I could send it.

Today, I went to the dentist and made it through an appointment without being given nitrous. Again, to most people, not a huge deal, but I get horrible anxiety for a lot of medical things. At my surgery consult last month, I actually caught myself disassociating while he was speaking to me. Today, I got through the appointment. I was lightheaded when I sat up from the anxiety, but I got through it.

Last week, I came up with this idea for an anthology and people really seemed to like it, including someone who is so good at putting together anthologies and who is a talented creative in his own right. Honestly, I was in shock. I guess I don't put a lot of value on my "silly ideas".  I'm slowly getting better at finding the value in what I do as a proofreader and even as a writer, but I still very much question a lot of me. Anyway, I approached this person about partnering with me on the project and to my surprise (and insane level of excitement), he was willing and seemed eager. Fast forward to today when I signed a contract with him to go ahead and start planning the project. That's when reality slapped me hard in the face. I can't finance a project like this. Heck, I'm currently living without a stove/oven in my house because I can't afford to replace them. We won't talk about how I have no hot water because I haven't been able to dig out of the chaos my mental state has left me in.

Anyway, I had to be up front with him about that. I mean, partnerships are built on honest communication, right? I had to have faith that it would be okay...and it is, really. I have to keep telling myself that over and over again. It's okay. It will get made. So it has to be put off for an indefinite amount of time because he's awesome and amazing and has two years worth of launches to get through, but he will come back to you. He won't forget about this project or you. Just because something is a huge step for you doesn't mean that it is to everyone.

It's not his fault. He's being real with me. He doesn't pull punches and that's not always easy for me, but he's not being mean or hurtful. It just is what it is. It's tough though.

All of this has left me wound tighter than....umm...something creative that gets wound up...It's hard not to take that leftover anxious energy and spiral down into some deep, dark place. Like I can hear that voice in my head telling me that because I'm such a fuck up, I don't have any money and I'm going to be stuck in this place forever...this place where I can't get a foothold to get out, where I'm going to die without anyone knowing who I am, where I will forever be this worthless thing that ruins lives and who never should have been born.  This place that says all of my victories of the past week mean nothing.

I referred to it earlier as the voices of family past and that's what it is. It's my mother's voice. It's the neglect of my father. It's the voice of the man who raped me. It's the voice of every single person who has ever abused or neglected me. Sometimes small victories lead to big anxiety and that's where I am tonight. It's nobody's fault and I have one of the best cheerleaders on the planet telling me that he's proud of me and he just wants me to be proud of me too. I've made big steps for me and it doesn't matter if those were easy steps for anyone else, they're big for me. I really have gotten lucky and have some great people who support me, who don't berate me when I'm feeling like this, but remind me that they think I'm awesome and capable of awesome things.

So...before I leave you all tonight, I want to update a section that I put on this blog a month or so ago...

Current Weight: 306 (-7.5)
Goal Weight: A lot less ...like 150 pounds less.
Days in a row taking meds: 34

Riding the Edge

Link to book below post.

It's been a while. I know. Maybe I'm writing just to myself. It's possible and that's okay. I'm here today because I need to be here. I need to lay everything out and maybe it will start coming together for me.

It's been about two weeks now since we dropped Ben off at school. I always knew that I'd be one of those moms who cried when she did that. I wasn't wrong. Walking away from him broke my heart. He was crying and trying to be so brave. We both knew it was the right decision, but in that moment, I think we both just wanted to go home. He has done really well though. I think the independence while knowing we're only a little ways away has been good for him.

Meanwhile, his brother is going through college auditions and about to turn 18 in just a couple of days. I'm struggling with that too. I so badly want for him to get into the school that he really wants. I want what I never had, a chance to follow his dreams.

Here at home things could be going better. The fridge broke last weekend and it's taken me a week to get it just about cleaned out. I have one more bag to go and it'll only be a small bag...like grocery bag size. The rest of the house is a total tip because I just can't seem to find the balance of home, work, kids, mental health, and everything else. I had a trip planned to a convention in March. I may have written about it. I was so proud to be granted a pro badge. Now, because of the fridge, I won't be going. The money for my plane ticket has to go to getting a fridge. I mean, we can't live on crackers and crunch n munch forever, right?

I keep trying to find the bright spots...like hey, now I really will be able to get a fresh start on food. Then, the voice pops into my head reminding me that my foodstamps were cut because of Ben working. For every positive voice, there are five negative ones drowning it out. Even my sense of humor that usually gets me through these spots is eerily quiet. Perhaps it's because I posted asking people to help and nobody answered. Meanwhile, the wife of one of my closest posted a $2000 fundraiser to get her dog's broken leg sorted and they've raised nearly $1500, I think. Look, I know I can live without a fridge and the pup's leg really needs to be cared for but it's the perfect thing for the negatives to latch onto. It's easy for them to say...hey look, you don't matter. Nobody wants to help you.

I look around and think how alone it makes me feel, that nobody will send me $5 but they'll send someone else art supplies so they can do a bullet journal. I don't know. I know I'm feeling sorry for myself and that it won't help anything, but I'm really struggling to shut it down. Do you know what's the worst part maybe? It's that voice...the one that sounds suspiciously like my mother...saying that I'm whining, that none of this matters, that my feelings don't matter, and that I'm being the weak, useless person that she always knew I was.

That's bullshit. It really is. I am stronger than she ever knew. I've gone through more than a lot and I've survived. I'm still surviving. Is it ideal? Hell no. It's pretty crappy actually, but I'm still here. So...here's the thing...I'm going to put this out there. I need to put it out somewhere...and here is as good as anywhere, perhaps better...because on some level, it's safe. Nobody will read this here.

I'm broke. Hell, I'm beyond broke. If it weren't for a good friend helping me out, I'd be sleeping on a park bench somewhere. The fridge broke and while it will get replaced, knowing that part of the hold up is the fact that my kitchen is beyond ugh is dragging me down. I can hear people saying, "Well why don't you just clean it up? Then you could have a new to you fridge and it'd be better." Except, it's ever quite that easy, is it? I've managed to slowly empty the fridge but every time I look at the dining alcove, I freeze. I can't seem to do a thing about it. Honestly, I could probably put a trash bag into the can (which is also busted, by the way), grab the snow shovel, and just shovel it all away...and weep with every scoop because all of that...it's like seeing a million failures right in front of my eyes. It's every negative screaming at me and it leaves me frozen. I had someone who was going to come help me, someone who tries very hard to understand, and doesn't judge me, but first it was car trouble, then weather...and so I'm on my own...and I'm afraid that my own just isn't good enough.

And only getting colder!

Then, there's the weather. Winter in Michigan can really suck but up until a week or so ago, it wasn't bad and I was really thankful for that. Why? The furnace decided to stop working. I can hear the voices again.. "Just call the landlord and get her to fix or replace it for you." Except...I can't. We all know that I can't. If I can't get strangers in to haul away a busted fridge and put a different one in because of the condition of things, there's no way that I can get someone who will report back to the landlord. To fix the furnace, the kitchen, living room, and laundry room have to be cleaned from top to bottom. It feels impossible...and we're about to go into a week of possibly record breaking cold. I have a small space heater and the oven running 24/7 when I'm home. Right now, it's 61 in here. I can live with that. This week? I don't know how cold it might get in here. I'll be having to go out quite a bit which is good and bad. Good because the car's heat works and I'll be going heated places. Bad because I'll have to turn everything off and the house temp drops fast. I've seen it drop 5-7 degrees in just a couple of hours.

I guess you can probably see where this is going right? I need money and I need it like yesterday. I don't have it because the reality is that with my mental health issues, I can't work outside of the house. I got a letter from DHS yesterday saying that I have to either start working 80 hours a month or volunteering 80 hours a month or taking some kind of classes. I do work. I proofread and edit books and stories for other people. I don't make $600/mo doing it though and that's how much I have to make to keep them off my back. I'm good at what I do and my clients are happy, but I don't have 20 comic clients putting out a book each month. Comics and books take time to create. As for my own books, I haven't received a single royalty payment in almost two years. I don't know if the books aren't selling at all or just not enough to bother sending me the change.

I've considered setting up a Patreon where for $5/mo, you could get early viewing on a story that will later go into an anthology. I'd do two different ones...one for children's stories and one for erotica. I have a Ko-Fi now. Actually, I've had it for months and months but not one single person has ever used it. I get it. People want to get something for their money, which is why I think maybe Patreon might be a better choice. I don't know that people would sign up there either though.

That wouldn't be enough, but it would be something. I talked to one of my clients today and he told me that he would have 5-10 books for me in 2019. At the rate he pays me, that's either not even one month or possibly 2.5 in an entire year. Clearly that won't work. I love his books and working with him and I'm not going to stop. I'm just saying that it isn't enough to get to where I need to be. I either need to be doing 4-6 books a month proofreading or some combination of things...proofreading novels, proofreading comics, Patreon, Ko-Fi...my own books starting to bring in some funds.

I do have a plan to take down my erotica stories that are also listed with the other ones in their series and then properly format the series and put those up on Amazon. There's no reason to have the individual smaller ones up by themselves. I'm planning on listing the series ones at 99c. They aren't long, more like a bedtime story but I hope worth the 99c. They won't make me millions but even $10/mo would help.

There is one other option and it's one that I'm going to have to do and hope that it goes well. I have the opportunity to apply for a ghostwriter's position. If I got it, I'd be writing mm romance/erotica of various types. It pays pretty well and with one thing would fix this problem. Here are the voices again, "If you knew it would solve this, why haven't you done it? Oh wait, because you're probably going to fail and then what?" Ugh. It's not just that. I could fail. I could fail and then still be screwed. Or, I could be decent at it, get hired, and then with my struggles to balance everything, it could end up being the only thing I do. 2019 was supposed to be the year of finally defeating the hoarding monster and setting myself up for success in 2020. Here we are, less than a month in, and that's already going out the window and I don't know what to do about it.

So, there you go...I'm riding the edge. I'm riding the edge of just wanting to give up and wanting to fight for what it is that I truly want. I'm riding the edge of do I fight for my dreams or do I continue to settle and make do with what I *have* to do.  I'm really tired of settling or making do with what I have. This isn't the life that I want for myself. I want to write and I want to be successful at it. I want to help other authors make their books be as good as they can be before they're sent out into the world. I love what I do and I want to keep doing it. I don't know how, but even if I do this ghostwriting thing...and I don't see how I can not do it...I need to keep finding me. I can't lose myself in the horror that is poverty.

I don't know if people will help me and support me. I don't know if they'll follow me on Patreon or donate to me on Ko-Fi. I don't know if they'll go and spend 99c on an erotica story. I don't know, if I get that far, if they'll back me on Kickstarter. I honestly don't know. I've been burned quite a bit by people who say they'll hire me and then don't or industry people who say they'll start sending business my way but then don't...or worse, keep it for themselves. I do know though that there are a lot of people out there and I don't need a million, or even a thousand. I need just enough to bring in maybe $1000/mo for now. Why $1000 and not $600? Because it's time to stop making just enough and time to start making enough that I can invest back in myself, in my home, and in my future.

$1000 = 34 comic book proofreadings
$1000 = 5 50k word book proofreadings
$1000 = 200 Patreon supporters
$1000 = 225,000 words proofread
$1000 = 334 cups of coffee purchased through Ko-Fi

That seems like an awful lot, doesn't it? It's not impossible though, especially if there was a small income from my writing coming in as well. I really, really, really want to get the erotica stuff already on Amazon updated. I desperately want to get Nevermore finished and sent off to Nick. I want to get my publishing house name chosen and Tales from the Toy Store written and published. I have dreams. I need to make them happen.

I hope that I have the support to make them happen. I hope that people will recommend me when they hear of someone looking. I hope that when editor/proofreader friends have overflow, they'll send
it to me. I hope that people will enjoy my writing and be willing to buy it. I have a lot of hope and at the end of the day, that's really darned important.

Today, though I feel as if I'm standing on a crumbling foundation, though it'd be so easy to just quit, I'm choosing hope and I hope (see what I did there?) that all of you will stick with me through this never ending journey of ups and downs. It's a rocky path, but it's a path. If by some small chance you want to buy a book or buy me a cup of coffee to help keep me going, I've added links above. If not, that's okay. I just hope that you got something out of me doing a total brain/emotion dump out here. I know this post was really for me, but I always hope that there's someone out there who reads it and says, "Hey, yeah, I get this and maybe for this minute, I, too, can choose hope."

The book in the image above was found via a random Google image search and something about it spoke to me. It appears to be out of print, but if you're interested in learning more about it, check out its Amazon page.

Fighting to Keep Fighting

Guys, I'm tired. No, it's more than that. I'm done. I'm out of whatever it is that keeps us going. Today it took everything I had to get out of bed, to go to the bathroom, and to nuke a frozen pizza. I wish that were an exaggeration and maybe it is since I'm sitting here writing and that has to take something too.

It's been a long time since I went from "Yeah, I'm doing okay." to "I am the most worthless human being on the planet." in the space of maybe an hour, but that's just what's happened.

Yesterday, when I left my house, I was proud of myself. I'd gotten quite a bit of work done on a project for a client, I'd shaved my face (thanks pcos) and my armpits, I'd put on deodorant, gotten dressed, brushed my teeth, fed the outside cat, brought the trash can back up to the house...I'd done all of that. I was proud of me.  I picked up my oldest, we stopped into the dollar store, and then on to the high school basketball games.

We sat through the first two games and my oldest got up to go say hi to some friends and was stopped by a teacher. I don't know the exact conversation but it basically boiled down to how the teacher had noticed we hadn't paid to get in and while it was okay for my son not to pay, it wasn't okay for me. I got the impression that it wasn't said nicely. Honestly, it was an accidental oversight. While he was in school, we never paid to get into the games. He was the team manager/filmographer and since he's handicapped and needs a ride everywhere, they always just let me in for free too. Out of habit, we came in the way we always had and they don't have a ticket seller at that entrance. My son was upset which made me upset. Still, I tried to keep it together because if I don't, he doesn't.

From there, it went downhill. I discovered that my front headlight is burnt out. I'm sure it's just the bulb. Then, as I was driving home after dropping my son off, and realizing that there's no way I can afford to have it replaced right now and now I'm super anxious because I could get pulled over and there's even less of a way for me to pay for a ticket, I realized that my insurance is coming out on Friday and I'm $101 short. With the chaos of this month, it just completely went out of my head to make sure that I had enough money in the account. I had the money in another account and used it to pick up some extra items that we needed. I just didn't remember.

I felt stupid and stupid led to feeling like a failure which led to feeling pointless. It's not that I don't try, but I never succeed. I want to be better, but I just keep failing. I swear I'm trying and it's been better, I think...or I thought. Now, because of this one thing, I just don't know. I feel like I've failed everyone. I can't seem to handle the basics of life sometimes..most of the time...How can I ever hope to get to the point where I'm off welfare and have a sustainable lifestyle if I can't even remember to brush my teeth every day?

I cried myself to sleep last night and today all I can do is sit here and cry. I've failed again. I've let myself and everyone down because I couldn't remember something so simple as making sure I had the funds to pay a bill that I have to pay every single month. There's more but there's no point in spewing it out here. I'm sorry for being such a failure at life....

What Tristan Means To Me

Tristan

Every week I tell myself that I need to come and write and every week, it gets pushed to the side. Not today though. Today, I need to write. I need to tell you things, even if nobody is listening. I just need to.

Most of you will have no idea who the character to the left is. His name is Tristan and he's the lead character in a series of comic books that I've been blessed enough to work on over the past few years. His main job is to protect his boy from the monsters under the bed. Nobody really knows just how much being able to work on his books means to me, not even his creator, Nick Davis.

Today, while his current project is stuck in Kickstarter limbo, I need to tell that story...not because I'm hoping it will push people to go and fund it, though if it does, I will be grateful for each and every penny, but because it's time. I need to share this piece of my life with you.

You see, most would see my childhood as typical. Sure, I was raised by my grandparents, but that's not terribly unusual. It happens. From the outside, everything looked great and it was, as long as you never looked at the time that I spent with my mother.

Times at my mother's were like that book that opens, "It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.". You never quite knew which one it was going to be. It could be a grand time of playing games and hanging out or it could be one of the nights when her and her friends would smoke pot and wake you up to come out and entertain them. It could be gardening in the backyard or being screamed at, cursed at, and told that she wishes you had never been born. You just never knew. The only thing I did know was that my teddy bear was always there for me. He'd soak up my tears and he never complained about how tightly I held him. Not even once. He was my stability in a very rocky world.

Fast forward a lot of years, a lot of traumas, a lot of changes, and the one thing that never changed was that some sort of teddy bear has always been there for me. It's still a constant in my life. The collection has expanded and sometimes who has caught those tears has changed, but when I'm alone, on the worst of days, there's one by my side to remind me that I'm not alone and that I'm not fighting alone.

Somehow, I found Nick in the chaos that is the internet and we became friends. I reviewed his early books for Life With Katie and then, I think, for Geek-o-Rama. Then, a few years ago, he started letting me edit/proofread on his books and it was a bit like finding home. I felt as if I fit. Nick not only let me play in his universe, but he gave me a chance when there weren't a lot of chances coming my way. I will be forever grateful for that. He believed in me when I didn't believe in myself.

He let me work on a series of books that were all about protecting children, about giving them a safe space, and about watching over them. This touched a part of me that I thought I'd buried. Now, that same series is at risk of not being funded and that's breaking my heart a bit. I've realized that I need to see this project funded not just because it's an amazing book with amazing talent, but because I need for other children to see that they aren't alone in whatever it may be that they're battling. This project is personal to me and I don't think that people realize just how much.

For two weeks, I've been on social media asking for pledges and asking for people to share it and I don't feel as if I've been all that successful. People don't see my name as the project runner and don't bother to read the page to see that I'm editing this book if it gets funded. If it doesn't, I don't get this job. I don't get to hang out with Tristan and Wilma as they fight off the no-names and children, perhaps children who really need to see this story, won't have it available to them.

This project means so much to me that I've pledged to it myself. I've pledged more than I will ever be paid for it, but that doesn't matter to me. It matters far more to me that this project get made and that this book be made. If I could, I'd back the entire thing myself and then donate the rewards to the local children's hospital that my oldest has spent time at. Heck, if people wanted to back, but didn't want the rewards, I'd have them tell Nick to have them sent to me and I would still do that. For now though, all I can do is continue sharing this project on social media and to try to keep hope alive as each day ticks by.

For those of you who have taken the time to read this, thank you for letting me share my story with you. I've found that sharing can lead to healing and each post here is a tiny step towards that.

Depression is...

Quote Courtesty of Brainy Quote

Sometimes I like to just sit and look at random quotes and images on Google. Some little thing will blip into my brain and I'll spend a while just looking at things related. Today's thing was, "I thought I was okay..." and somehow in my flipping through, I came across the image above. It hit me like a ton of bricks and I stopped everything else that I was doing to just stare at this image.

You see, earlier today, I took a good, hard look around my house. It's a disaster. Actually, disaster might be an understatement. It looks like a good foundation for an episode of Hoarders. I wish I were joking. Part of me was shocked. I thought I had been doing okay on a brain level kind of way. Sure, emotionally, I've been off due to some life changes, but even though I knew there was a small struggle there, I thought overall I was doing okay. I mean, my bullet journal is almost current, I'm only weeks behind in reading/studying, and there's peanut butter, raspberry preserves, and bread in my kitchen. I've been eating. Oh sure, I haven't been eating well, but I've been eating. I've even drank some water!

Yeah...I thought I was okay, but I'm not. Every day that passes is a day closer to a future that I seem completely incapable of figuring out. Whenever I try, my anxiety skyrockets and I just want to sleep. Nothing is getting done because to get something done would mean that I'm actually taking steps towards that same future.

Every time I look around, I see the trash and the stuff and I know I should deal with it, but at the same time, my brain reminds me that all of those things need to be dealt with so that I can possibly move in a year's time and so it sits because I can't imagine a year from now without completely shutting down.

I tell myself that I don't advertise myself as a proofreader because of how other's have treated me. Recently, an author who I thought had hired me for a regular job told me he didn't know when I'd get the next batch of books. He had very valid reasons so I'm not upset with him, but it took the tiny future plans that I had managed to make and squashed them. Without that needed income, I'm stuck. Yet, I don't have it anywhere on my author site that I offer proofreading as a service. I don't mention it on any of my social media descriptions. Why? If I had the money, I would have to start making decisions which is something I seem incapable of.

Depression is the inability to construct a future...and that's right where I am. I'm incapable of constructing any kind of future beyond the day that I'm currently in and because I can't see a future, I've become numb to my surroundings, no matter how unhealthy they've become. I have moments of "omg, I need to do something about this" but it seems that I can only manage to survive in the hopes that someday soon, the fog will lift and maybe this time I can make things right again.