Weekly Update: Overwhelmed

 I've spent far too many nights either crying myself to sleep or laying there with my mind running as fast as it can. I think everything just caught up with me. It's not that anything new has happened. It's more that I'm struggling with the changes that are happening. I'm struggling with no more than 4 carb "servings" per meal. It feels overwhelming to check everything that goes into my mouth. Today I went to the store and bought 4 donuts and ate 2 of them. I knew damn well that I shouldn't, but I wanted comfort food. I don't know if I'll eat the other two of them or I'll throw them out. I just know that I did what I did and I can't change it after I did it. 

Next week I start my diabetes education classes and while I want to be excited and ready to take on this challenge, I just don't. It feels like impossible work. I know logically that it isn't. People deal with this every day and they even defeat this. I could if I could get my head on straight, instead of bobbling all over the place. 

I'm taking 5 different medications right now. Three of them are for the diabetes. At least I can say that I'm taking those when I'm supposed to. It may be the only thing that I'm doing right at the moment. Even my two "anti-crazy" pills aren't keeping my brain on track. Oh, I'm sure that it would be worse without them, but I just can't seem to pull it together.

I have moments where I feel like everything is okay and that I can keep going. Then, I remember the diabetes and the potential for cancer. Granted, I know that the cancer is a small, tiny percent of possibility, but it isn't zero and won't be until after the biopsy results come in. Hopefully. I don't know what I'll do if that's truly added on. I suppose just keep going the best that I can. 

I've had the worst nightmares. I've dreamt that it comes back positive and I can't get to those I love before I die. I've dreamt that it comes back positive and we have to do surgery and after that, I'm rejected by my lovers. I know it's all based in fear and not reality, but I can't control where my brain goes when I sleep. Heck, I can barely control where it goes when I'm awake. Next week, this part should have answers at least and I can hopefully move past it and only have the one major medical issue to deal with. 

I stepped away from social media because seeing the posts about getting the vaccine or seeing others was just making it worse for me. It's been a year since I had a really good, long hug. Over a year, really. It's been nearly 18 months since I saw "the man" and even longer than that since I last saw Rob. I don't know when I'll see either of them. I'd drive the five hours to see Rob if I could just have a hug. Even if it meant, turning around and driving back the same day. I miss physical contact beyond belief and that's weighing on me too. I don't have anyone to physically turn to with all this happening. Never take for granted having that. 

I know that it seems counter intuitive to pull back from people just when I need them the most, but unfortunately, finding that I only have them for a few minutes online is hurting in some ways more than it's helping. There are a few that I will talk to if they reach out...Nick, Justin, Rob, Eric...but other than that, unless it's about work, I probably won't respond. I didn't just disappear though. I did a post saying that I was stepping away. Part of me hopes that this break will allow me to tackle some other things, but right now, it's more making lists and curling up on the couch and watching SVU marathons. I guess I need to learn how to be gentle with me and not expect me to be Wonder Woman every single day.

I love you all...please take care of you and each other.

Love,

Weekly Update: Dramatic Week

 Whew...I'm almost glad it's Monday again after last week. I posted that I was a good girl and went and had my annual mammogram. What I didn't expect was to get a call on Tuesday saying that they'd seen something and wanted me to come back in for an additional mammogram on my right breast and an ultrasound on both. Eek! Honestly, this didn't freak me out too much...Okay, it did freak me out some. I can't lie about it...people who dealt with me read this...

I'd never been called back for both before and it worried me. I mean, cancer is a big scary word and I was hearing it a lot in my head. So, Wednesday I went back for the mammogram. It was a tough one. They applied a lot more pressure and had me standing in ways that no normal person ever stands in. After taking more images than my original mammogram, the technician put me back into the private waiting area while she checked to see if more were needed. I waited in there, fussing and fretting for 15 minutes before she came back to tell me that the radiologist wanted more. Oy. When it was finally over, I took about a hundred deep breathes and went to Walmart and bought clearance LEGO...as if I need more, right?

Thursday rolled around and I went in for the ultrasound. The technician and the intern were both really nice and we chatted throughout most of the ultrasound. I guess I became so used to being a "guinea pig/learning tool" while pregnant all those years ago that having a male intern in there was no big deal. It's all medical, right? Anyway, she did very thorough ultrasounds of both breasts and I'm not going to lie. Her silence while she worked on the right one freaked me out. Afterwards? Back to Walmart, this time to buy Dylan's birthday present. 

Then it became a waiting game. On Saturday the results of the mammogram came back and said suspicious and that a biopsy was recommended. That scared the tar out of me. Typical me, I made jokes with the few people I had told. They all knew though. They know me well enough by now. I had nightmares of ...well...not getting to be back with Rob or "the man" ever again or being physically rejected by them if I had to have a masectomy. Crazy stupid I know. 

Yesterday I updated my "if I die" file which is basically like a will and I sent it to Rob and to Justin so they'd have it. By that point, I'd calmed down and realized it was probably all nothing, but I guess I wanted to be prepared anyway.

Today, the results of the ultrasound came in and it basically says there's a whole bunch of cysts happening and they're probably benign. I'm waiting for them to call me to find out what the next step is. It could be the biopsy or it could be come back in six months and we'll look everything over again. Either way, I don't think it's going to be super scary bad news, thank goodness. I kept thinking how will I handle both cancer and diabetes when I'm struggling just to handle the diabetes. It's good that I won't have to. 

...and that was my kinda scary week. I'm so glad it's over so that I can take a long, deep breath and get back to regular life.

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: Ups and Downs

I wanted to come in here today and tell you that everything is alright, but it's not and I don't want to lie to you or to myself. Things aren't okay. I go outside of the house and it's easy to pretend that they are. I guess having years of experience has paid off. I talk with people and nobody knows that as soon as I'm alone again, it will all come crashing down.

I've cried so much this week. Most of the time I didn't even know why. I find it harder and harder to hold back when I see something that bothers me. Facebook is really hard because I need to not lose it there. I can't call people fucking morons when those are the words in my head. I've posted a couple of posts that were rawer than usual and it's been okay, but there's a difference between people wanting you to be honest with how you're feeling and you putting it right there in their faces. If I can't reign it in, I'm on a crash course to having no career. Sometimes I just have to close my laptop and watch tv...but nothing I need to invest in because I can't pay attention for that long. My show of choice lately has been Law and Order: SVU. It's an hour with a lot of brain breaks (commercials) in there.

Last night was hard. Yesterday was hard for no discernible reason other than my brain hates me...and it's always a little bit worse at night when you're more alone and it's harder to hide from your demons. I came across (by accident) a podcast done by Nick Gibson, the man who had harassed me, who had lied to me. I told myself to leave it alone, but I couldn't. I watched all 42 minutes of it. I screamed at my phone at the lies that he told, at the compliments that the host gave him. When he said that he had intentionally not send out my replacement book and shrugged it off, I stared in shock. I kept telling myself to turn it off, even when I started to cry, but I couldn't. It broke me, but not because of him.

In the grand scheme of my life, he's a nobody. In the comics community, he's less than nobody, no matter what he claims. People aren't flocking to him to buy his books or to tell him how great he is. I've seen his social media. He's invisible. His only true fan is himself and I doubt that he's even that. I doubt he loves himself. So often we treat others the way we have been treated or even how we treat ourselves. Often, it's the way we want to be treated, but I think it's far more one of the first two for him. It's sad really that he's never been shown the proper way to treat people and when he was, he lashed out and abused that.

I've written here before about my rape. I've mentioned my parents and their behavior. When I'm depressed, demons appear that I thought were long gone. This whole thing with Nick was like the key to Pandora's box. It opened it up and suddenly I've been dealing with things that ought to be done and over with. I feel incredibly fragile, as if I could break at any moment. I long for someone to just hold me and tell me that it will be okay, but there's nobody here to do that. I'm on my own. Some have tried to reach out to me and I so appreciate that. In those moments, I feel stronger. I feel as if this won't swallow me whole. They're the reason that I'm not in bed, but instead am on the couch writing this post.

I may be in tears, but I'm still here...

Weekly Update: Ugh...

So when we last left off, I had posted about my experience with Nick Gibson. Life has been interesting since then. I've had people question why I kept talking to him when he couldn't further my career (implying that if he could further my career, I should have put up with it) and I even saw one person calling it a revenge post and possible cyber-bullying. All I can do is shake my head. I wrote the post as a warning to others and since then, I sleep with my doors locked. Yes, I'm afraid of retaliation. After all, he called the police on a friend of mine who vocally criticized him and his actions.

But, I want to move past that. It's just one piece of my life and I don't want to live within it. I said my piece and I'll "happily" talk about it if asked, but my life is continuing onward and I need to move with it. Tomorrow, my book is officially released and I'm full of nerves and excitement. I love this book and I really hope that others do too. I really want for it to do well.

On top of that, the Kickstarter is still running. We need about $1200 to fund and there's 11 days left. I know that it's possible, but it gets nerve wracking. With all of this, I'm amazed that I sleep at night. I do though...even if it takes me a while to fall asleep. I think the cats know because over the past week or so, one of more of them will come to bed with me and curl up where I can reach them to pet them. They can be royal pains, but I love them.

Let's see...what else...I'm busy with work which is good. I'm behind on a client's book which isn't good but I'm hopeful that I can catch up and have it back to him tomorrow. Yep, tomorrow...in the middle of the book launch...Ahh well, you have to do what you have to do sometimes.

I guess that's it. I had a million thoughts before I sat down and then they scattered. I think there's just so much going on this week that I'm having trouble keeping up with myself. I'll get through this though and come out the other side. I may be sweating and clutching desperately at a pen but I'll make it through.

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 Update: Holiday Blahs

That little egg may be on the slightly dramatic side for this post. After all, I'm not sitting around all the time in tears, just now and then. Right now? No tears, just tired.

I did realize the other day though that the holiday blahs have set in early for me this year. With no money to even buy food, let alone anything else, I've become overwhelmed. Overwhelmed leads to anxiety which leads to depression which leads to a not so very holly jolly me.

On top of that, I won't be seeing my boys over Thanksgiving and I don't know if I'll even see them over their winter break except for maybe a day. Roger has hopes of doing some work at his dad's office which means him staying over there. Ben will be working. This leaves this mom all alone and that's bringing me down as well.

I'm not sure how to shake this overwhelmed feeling. Maybe if I could, I could continue to dig out the house or at least something productive. It needs a lot of work though if you break it down, it's not so bad. I was thinking about cleaning in my room today, but there's a good chance I'd just climb back into bed. I haven't been sleeping all that well which just adds to the muckity muck.

I'm also questioning if I ought to continue writing here. I started a weekly post because I thought it might help me and others, but I'm seeing that there aren't many others reading. I think if there's at least one person reading, one person who might feel a little less alone, I'll keep going though. It does help me to brain purge. Some things are better out of the brain than floating around endlessly inside.

Well, I guess that was a short questioning session, eh? I like when that happens. I hate feeling wishy washy, like I can't make a decision. It's nice when I can be decisive and then move on to something else.

What's that something else? Well, that's a darned good question. How about we end this post with 3 positives? It's good to focus on the good now and then.

1. I'm only 1800 words from finishing NaNoWriMo and most of those words came from projects that will be published.

2. I'm alive. I may be scary levels of broke and unsure how I'm going to feed myself, let alone kids if they come over, but I'm alive.

3. The boys are all doing well. Ben has a cold, but otherwise, they're all doing well and being successful in their areas.

And that's all for this week, guys. If I let myself, I'd write for ages and ages but nobody wants to read all of that! As always, take care of yourselves and each other.

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.

Am I going crazy?

No cute graphic. Just me. Raw. Crying. Wondering if I'm losing my mind.

Last night, I sent a message to "the man" after I saw a picture that he'd posted on Instagram. His response was, "huh?" and then nothing because he'd fallen asleep. This morning I asked him why he'd deleted the picture and he told me that there had never been a picture. Except I saw it. I swear I saw it. I can describe it. He was in bed, shirtless, with his glasses on. He was holding the book that he was reading, but it was closed and you could read the cover. It was similar to the one that's still on his Instagram from the night before. He swears there was never a picture.

So, that means one of two things...either I completely hallucinated it or he's fucking with me to make me feel as if I'm going crazy. I can't imagine a single reason that he would do the second thing. We were just together last week and we're good, we're solid. Which means...it really never existed. He thinks I'm overthinking the entire thing and that it was just a blip. Who the hell blips like that? Only crazy people.

Yesterday was a normal day. I worked in the morning and then cleaned some stuff out of the car. I went and picked up all 3 boys and we went to Kalamazoo. We dropped off Roger's sax for repairs, stopped by the comic shop so I could get a friend's latest issue, dropped Roger off at his lesson and then the other two and I went and had pie. After, we got gas, picked up Roger, and drove back, stopping to do a couple of errands. It was decided that everyone would go swimming at Roger's girlfriend's parents house so I left the younger two to get ready and Ben and I drove to my place so I could get my swimsuit. While here, I grabbed the mail which included stupid shit from DHS requiring me to jump through more hoops. I tried not to think about it much, but not knowing if you're going to be able to eat next week weighs on you.

We went, we swam, we had pizza, and I drove Ben back to his dad's because the other two were going to hang out longer. I used the bathroom there, changed clothes, and headed home. That's when everything went...weird...

I remember thinking about the DHS notice and thinking that I'd probably have to get some sort of job outside of the house and that's all I remember...at least for a while...at some point, I "came to" and felt completely disoriented. I kept thinking it feels like I'm driving back to Hastings instead of to my house. I couldn't tell you where I was and it freaked me out. It was before I got to Woodland. I know that because I kind of remember going through Woodland and stopping at the stop sign at the bottom of the road there. I remember rolling up the passenger side window and thinking that I have to focus, I have to focus...

I don't remember the rest of the drive. I remember pulling up to my driveway and counting the number of cars that were next door...7...and then pulling into the driveway.  I remember looking at my phone, which has become habit, and seeing that he'd posted a picture and looking at it and then sending him the message. It's all kind of fuzzy...I came in the house and sat down on the couch. I remember changing from my jeans to my leggings without standing up from the couch. I watched Big Brother from the dvr but I don't really remember much about it. Then, I went to sleep...

I'm scared. I have to work 20 hours a week/$600 a month to retain any kind of food stamps but just thinking about it sends me into a panic. I could get some sort of doctor's note, but I don't know that they'd write me one and I don't want to sound crazy. I don't want to be crazy. I'm completely not functional ever since he told me that there never was a second photo. I've tried to work but I can't stop thinking about it, I can't stop freaking out. I just want to curl up, hide, disappear, something. I don't know. I just know that I'm scared...what if I'm going crazy?

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....

Safe Places Are Hard To Find

If you're someone who has social anxiety, depression, anxiety, PTSD, been raped and any other number of things that leaves you needing a safe place sometimes, you also know that sometimes it can be really hard to find them.

Over the years, I've had a few different ones ...my friend Dave's house in Vermont, until he got married and now it wasn't just him there. My friend Rob's place in Canada...until he had to deal with some life stuff of his own. I could list more but even just with two, you get the idea. Except, I'm going to list one more because really this last one is what this post is all about.

Now stick with me here...I know what I'm about to say is going to sound...well, crazy...but I promise you that it isn't. Comic conventions. Comic conventions have been my safe place for years. They're often filled with people that I know, like, and respect. Some of them I'd even consider to be friends. They're also full of strangers, but usually strangers who love the same things that I love and sometimes, I feel safe in a space full of people I don't know. Because of the nature of the event, I can get lost in a crowd. There's no pressure to be "on" or "happy" or anything. I can just be. If I need a break, I can find a corner and sit and watch the people. I love to watch people.

Over the years, I've met a lot of people at shows. Some I've enjoyed, some I've been glad to avoid later. That's just the way of life and personalities. Unfortunately, one of those that I've met and enjoyed has been revealed to be a rather horrible human being.  It's come out that he's treated women rather horribly. He's pressured them into doing things that they didn't really want to do. He's used his position within not only a place that he used to work, but also his position within the industry to lure women in and then mistreat them. I don't mean that he beat them, but sometimes the scars of emotional abuse and sexual misconduct (not the right phrase, but this is so hard to write that I can't let myself get hung up on phrasing right now) outlast bruises and broken bones.

As a woman, learning of his behavior upset me. It ought to upset everyone. But, under all of that was a feeling of deep unease and I've had a tough time figuring out why until last night. I was reading through a post written by someone calling out this man and supporting the art crew that had been working with him on a very popular title. The art crew chose to walk away from the book because they refuse to reward his heinous behavior. I applaud them for that and their actions led to the post I was reading. The more that I read, the more I found myself feeling uneasy, unhappy, and I hate to use the word...but triggered.

It got to the point where I had to shut down my laptop and step away. It took me a while, but I finally figured out what was causing it. I've known this man from the convention circuit for as long as I've known him. Conventions were/are a safe place and now he might be there. Granted, I'm not the type of woman that has ever had a real problem with sexual harassment or come ons...I'm just not the skinny, beautiful type. I've never had a problem with him approaching me this way and I doubt I ever would. Still, now that I know what's lurking in the dark, it's made me edgy whenever I think about the one that I'm supposed to go to in March. I was looking forward to possibly seeing him there. I was excited about going. I was insanely excited. Now? Now, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what's in the shadows. I'm afraid knowing that I'll be traveling in and out of the area every day on a lightrail for an hour. Before, I was excited for that very same travel. It's always been a place to people watch and to meet new people.

My reality is that he's made a safe place feel not so safe. My reality is that I don't know if I want to go now. My brain has gone into "What if..." mode.  An event that I was so excited and proud (I was awarded a pro level badge this year which is a huge deal to me.) to be attending now has me wondering if anyone would notice if I just stayed home. I'm sad. I'm sad for me. I'm sad for every single woman that he has ever been in contact with. I'm sad for the industry because he's left another dark mark on what's beautiful.

Do you know what else I am? I'm angry. I'm angry that he's done this to me and to others. I'm angry that a grown ass man doesn't know that this is beyond wrong. I'm angry that I'm feeling as vulnerable and weak as I am. Anger is good. Anger is cleansing. Anger keeps me moving forward when I want to hide under the blankets.

I'm also proud. I'm proud of the woman who stood up and told her story. I don't know that I ever have. I'm proud of the industry professionals who have said no more. We will not tolerate this in our midst. I'm proud of the store where a lot of this story took place because they've declared that not only will they no longer stock anything that he's worked on, they're working with this woman to build policies so that nothing like this ever happens again. I'm proud of "my people".  Those are the people that I'm going to be looking towards as I work towards this trip because those are the people that I want to be around.

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.

Dental Health Matters

Why Dental Health Matters

I'm pretty sure that I've talked about my anxiety issues here, but if I haven't, I have some anxiety issues. These stem a lot from my PTSD...yesterday, I realized just how bad it's affecting me.

Due to a variety of reasons, I haven't seen a dentist for any real dental care in approximately 17 years. Over the past half a dozen years, I've started losing teeth. Still, I didn't seek out a dentist.  A lot of that has to do with having zero dental insurance and knowing that I had no way to pay for any dental work. The rest has to do with my anxiety. I had to have a lot of dental work done when I was younger and most of it wasn't pleasant. I've developed a very real anxiety when it comes to dentists.

Still, 2018 is the year about being brave so after some serious anxiety attacks, I made the appointment. Yesterday afternoon, I drove the 20 minutes to their office. I fought back tears and panic the entire drive. The hygienist was nice, but before I even got to see the dentist, I was in tears. The entire thing felt completely overwhelming. When the dentist actually came in, they sat behind my head and went over the x-rays as if I wasn't there. He poked around my mouth some, gave her some notes, and then left. I think he told me to have a nice day but I don't remember. I was too wound up by that point. I know that he never introduced himself to me or anything.

The rundown? The TL;DR?

• My insurance will only cover: routine cleanings, extractions, fillings, and partial dentures.
• They will not cover: root canals, bridges, crowns, or deep cleanings...or even Nitrous.

I need:

• 5-6 extractions (most of these are broken stubs of teeth)
• 11-12 fillings
• Debridement
• Normal cleaning
• Root scaling/planing (also known as deep cleaning)
• Antibiotics to fight an infection
• Prescription toothpaste to help try to strengthen the remaining teeth. ($22)
• Nitrous Oxide to help calm me down. ($23/visit)

 Everything except that last one and the toothpaste will be covered by my insurance. The deep cleaning? That one will cost about $610. $610 that I really don't have but if I don't have this procedure done, my oral health will just continue to to get worse and I risk losing more teeth.

All of this is extremely stressful and when added to my anxiety, I ended up in my car afterwards having a complete breakdown. It was bad enough that the friend who called me suggested that I contact my doctor's office to see if they would prescribe me something that I can take before I have to go in for my next appointment. I don't know how many appointments this will take...I have 2 currently scheduled and that's just the start. I'm scared spitless so I guess it's just as well that the toothpaste has the added bonus of making me drool.

As for my weight, etc? Well, I got started on Monday and did well Monday and Tuesday. Wednesday and yesterday were all about anxiety and stress so I didn't do as well. I'm trying to get back on the horse today. I made a smoothie for breakfast and took my meds and then brushed my teeth with that god awful extra minty toothpaste (I hate mint toothpaste!). My water intake is slow but it's all I'm drinking and I have hopes of getting in my 64 oz before bed tonight. I even bought a scale yesterday!

The numbers?

Starting Weight: 314.4 lbs
Current Weight: 313.8 lbs
Change in Weight: -.8 lbs

It's a lot. It's overwhelming, especially when you add it to the rest of my life, but I've started the ball rolling so now I just have to keep it going.

This Is Me

This is me and me is a holy mess today. My oldest son is graduating this evening and it's brought up more emotions than I know how to handle. I'm so proud of him for the work and effort he's put in to get to this point. When he received his cerebral palsy diagnosis, we were warned that he may never get higher than a certificate. He worked hard though and he did it.

Then, there are all of the negative feelings swirling around....

• His stepmother has worked hard at leaving me out of everything major especially since he got to high school. I missed 4 years of homecoming dances and a year of prom because she wouldn't give me the details. Even his graduation...she told me when and where his open house would be. She left me out of all the planning, the making of the photo boards...everything. She sent me an invitation to my own son's open house. I only have the digital copies of his senior pictures because I stole them from the internet...
• ...and as if that's not enough, she shows up to things like banquets and basks in the glow of the praise of how great a kid she is. She takes credit as if she's been his mother for 18 years, as if she's the one who drove 30 minutes each way each and every day to help him with homework, as if she developed serious "bleacher butt" from every sporting event over the past four years. 
• Other parents give her that credit as both her an my ex-husband pretend as if I don't exist, which leaves me feeling like an outsider within the school community. 
• I'm alone. I sat for 2.5 hours at honor's night. Everywhere around me, families sat cheering on their seniors. Not me. I sat there all by myself, nobody to turn to say, "Hey, look what he did! He just got a scholarship!" Nobody to snap pictures or to squeeze my hand. No family to share this with. No partner. Just me. Alone.
• I decided to clear out my phone today so I could take video and I came across photos of the man that I desperately love but will probably never have any kind of future with and since I'm so vulnerable, it was like an arrow through the heart, taking my breath away. 

....and this is perhaps the "silliest" ....Graduation is a special event, one you don't show up to in jeans and a t-shirt and yet, the only dress clothes that I own is a black dress, that I bought for a special night out that I was to have with the above mentioned man. It's never been worn and I can't bring myself to wear it now. Yet, I know that the stepmom will show up dressed to the nines and looking amazing because she always does. She's everything that I'm not and today I'm feeling that. 

Still, I'll go and I'll clap and I'll cheer because this is my baby and I wouldn't miss it for anything. He's my miracle baby and I am so insanely proud of him. I always will be, no matter where he goes in this world.

So why this title? I'm watching The Greatest Showman and this song never fails to bring me to tears as I struggle with who I am. Somehow, today, as I struggle with all of my emotions and with knowing that somehow, perhaps despite of who I am, I have raised one amazing young man, it just seemed to fit.

Impostor Syndrome

Image Courtesy of iamwire.com

Do you know about impostor syndrome? Impostor syndrome is a belief that you’re an inadequate and incompetent failure, even though evidence shows that you’re skilled and quite successful. It's something that every single one of us suffers from at one point or another. It's something that I'm dealing with right now when it comes to my writing.

I have a couple of friends who text me multiple times a week to ask me a question about writing, editing, or even publishing. For the life of me, I cannot figure out why they'd ask me. What do I know about it? Someone recently pointed out that I'd helped write 2 novels, wrote a filler novella length "journal" and all three of them are available in print and e-book formats on Amazon. Even then, I shrugged and said, "Yeah, well that was mostly Nick. He wrote the original books and he did all the work to get them up on Amazon."  It doesn't seem to matter that it was pointed out that I did a ton of work on the books to correct and improve things or how much time I've put in studying how to properly do these things. I just can't seem to feel like anything but a fraud when it comes to my writing and what I do/don't know. 

So, what do you do when you're struggling with this? According to The Muse, there are some steps that we can all take. I'm going to post them here, but please click the link above if you'd like more information on any of them.

• Identify what's shaking your confidence.
• Tell someone about it.
• Remind yourself of your achievements.
• Remind yourself that you didn't get to where you are on accident. 
• I tweaked this one since for me my impostor syndrome isn't specifically related to a job.
• Take a risk and keep going.
• Take a look at your language and update it. 
• Write down your story as if it's an introductory bio for someone to read.
• Mentor someone else.
• Know that impostor syndrome is actually a sign that you're doing something right.

What's shaking my confidence? The fact that I haven't written a single word on book 3 in about 6 weeks. That's a really long time and it's gotten to the point where I've become afraid I'll never be able to find the words again. Somehow telling all of you about this helps. I've been living under this cloud of guilt and impostor syndrome and telling you lifted some of that weight off of my shoulders. 

That's steps 1 and 2. I guess answering texts is a bit like mentoring people, right? I'm going to add another step that isn't listed above. Breathe. Don't be afraid to stop and take a few deep breathes. It's so easy to get overwhelmed. Now, I think I'll get brave and open that file....even if I don't write a single word, it's a step in the right direction...

My Brain Feels Full

Image Courtesy of RD.com

I'm going to warn y'all that it's late on a Sunday night and I haven't had near enough sleep for probably the past couple of weeks. This could turn into the most ridiculous, rambling post ever or it could turn out okay. Nobody will know until I write it and y'all read it. So...here we go.

My brain feels full and I might know why. A few weeks ago something happened that has become life changing for me. I'm not good with life changing but this is a change that has to happen because to stay in the situation would be beyond toxic for me. Still, my instinct is to just stay put. I'm fighting with myself which means that nothing is getting done. I haven't written a word in that time. I've started and stopped numerous house projects. None of them have been completed. I look around the house and I'm frustrated to see things half done or things that were half done are now more like a quarter done.

My brain feels full and yet under the exhaustion and "stuffed brain", there's this tiny, flickering flame that says, "It's okay. You can do it. Just pick something and do it. It's not going to be easy, but you can do this." I want to listen to that voice but I think there's also a fear. If I finish the project that I really and truly should finish, it will mean that life changing thing happens. It means that what feels like my one "solid" connection to someone I care deeply about will be severed. It means taking huge steps of faith...faith in myself. It means me doing more than telling a few people that I can do this. It means actually doing it. It means trusting in myself enough to conquer my fears or at least face them.

I know that it's why I flit from project to project around here, never finishing any of them. I know it's why I even start other projects when I know what I should be doing. I'm procrastinating facing my fears and trying to move past them. Tomorrow is my only day this week where I don't have to go anywhere and will I work on the project? No. Instead, I'm going to finish another half finished project. I'm going to do my weekly Monday work. Then, I'm going to take some deep breathes and look at the upcoming calendar. I need to try to formulate some kind of plan. Maybe if I break it down into "unscary" chunks, I can start taking those steps.

For now though, I'm hoping that I can balance my emotional self. I feel almost like an onion with all its layers (No, I'm not an ogre, I promise!). On the surface, I feel almost manic and that really won't help right now. I'm already sleep deprived. Under that is a solid level of anxiety, then depression, and somewhere deep down, there is a tiny germ of excitement. I need to peel back those layers and find my way to the excitement and make that work for me.  I know that what's coming is a lot of work but the theory is that I'm smart and capable and the only thing standing in my way.  I need to learn to put all of the garbage into a trash can and out to the curb so that I can take those steps forward.

I can do this. One tiny step at a time, one tiny project at a time, I can do this. If you feel stuck and like your brain is full, I know that you can do the thing you need to do too. It's hard but not impossible. Deep breathes and small steps and we'll get there.

Back to Basics

Image courtesy of M Corp

Hi all! I hope everyone has been doing well. I've been a bit up and down lately but that's par for the course. I did have a huge upset last week though and that's the "inspiration" for this post.

A couple of weeks ago, my coolant temperature light came on while I was taking my youngest to a performance. We were right by the venue, so I parked and when we drove home, it didn't happen. In fact, it didn't happen for another two weeks. This time, however, it happened driving home and then again the following day. I stopped and added coolant. A week later (my car wasn't driven during that time), I took my car up to the mechanic who told me to make an appointment at another shop to have a dye test run on the system. Fast forward to Tuesday of the following week when the dye test showed that I had a badly blown head gasket. Cost to repair? $2000.

If you know me, you can only imagine my emotional and mental state after hearing that. Money and being without a car are major panic issues for me. I called my own mechanic and he said that I should scrap the car. It had 183k miles on it and it just wasn't worth the investment. While my brain agreed, the rest of me was freaking out. I have to have a car. You can't live where I do without one. The closest grocery store is at least 15 miles away.

After doing some research, the decision was made to replace the car. I sat in my HHR and I cried. I loved that car. I also get very emotionally attached to things like cars. I don't know why. It's just how I am. We spoke to the guy who owns the shop where I go for repairs and he said he had two cars available that he'd be willing to finance for me: a Dodge Caliber and a Chevy Aveo. I was interested in the Caliber and decided to go down and look at it. Just before I pulled out of the driveway, I got a phone call. They had taken the Caliber down to be washed and smoke came out of the dash. It was obviously no longer available. That left me with two choices: hope and pray that I could keep driving the HHR and not end up stranded on the side of the road somewhere or get the Aveo.

I now own the Aveo. I now own a car so far back in the dark ages of vehicle technology that the windows have hand cranks on them. There's no cruise control or electric locks. It is going back to basics.

It got me to thinking though. Maybe, at different points in our lives, we need to go back to basics. We get so wrapped up in so many things that it becomes overwhelming. Maybe if we stopped, took a few deep breathes, and went back to the basics of life, it would be better for us. Recently, I've started taking weekends to not work on work. I hang out with my kids and if they aren't here, I read a book (or two or three) or watch movies that I keep meaning to watch but "never have the time for." It isn't about neglecting anything, but about making sure that I have as much energy and gumption to handle the coming week as possible.

I hate the fact that basic has taken on the almost opposite meaning in today's culture. Listen, folks, I'm all about being basic right now and it has nothing to do with the latest Starbucks drink (though I do like to have a bit of adventure and try them out) or whatever else is mainstream at the moment. It's all about dialing it back, about not pushing myself to the breaking point, it's about taking care of me and taking care of mine.

Have you considered going back to basics at all? Let me know!