One year ago, I faced my fear and brought my writing out of the dark, into the light.
Spring is a time of renewal. The snow and the cold are retreating, making way for blooms and blossoms and warmth. Persephone has returned.
As such, my life is changing, too. Lately I feel a lot more unburdened, lighter; like I can take a deep breath and exhale.
My daughter is getting older and more independent (she’ll be eight years old this year). Watching her discover and delve into her interests; navigate friendships, experiencing loyalty, jealousy, laughter, and tears; makes me so proud to be her mother. I want her to know she can fail and make mistakes and still be a strong, amazing person. We’ve been through a lot, and I know life isn’t finished throwing hardship and obstacles her way, so I tell her as often as I can that I love her and I will be here for her, always.
Over these past few months I have discovered a lot about myself: what I want, and what I’m capable of. My heart is full of hope and I’m excited about what’s next.
A brand new year means fresh starts and new beginnings. I don’t make resolutions (because I rarely, if ever, keep them) but I do take the time to sit back and evaluate where I am, what I’m doing, and what I can change.
First and foremost is my mental health and well-being. My current medications are working in a way that makes me feel more ‘even.’ There are still emotional highs and lows but the lows are a lot more manageable, which is a relief. I feel better equipped to be a more positive daughter, mother, and friend.
This year I want to do more things for myself. I have always wanted to take a creative writing class or course, but over the years I have dismissed the idea as a waste of time. All of the courses I took in university and college were specifically geared toward attaining the credits needed to complete the programs or degree; I was too hesitant and too afraid to do something solely for nurturing my passion: writing.
Two weeks ago, I bit the bullet and signed up for an online creative writing workshop. I’ll be able to see the first assignment today and I’m really excited. I’m looking forward to honing my craft, discussing ideas, offering and receiving constructive criticism, all in the hopes of becoming a better writer.
I feel good. I haven’t felt like this in a long time, so I’m holding it close and enjoying the warmth.
I have been feeling poorly lately. Battling a sore throat, sore ears, congested head, and a hacking cough has drained me of what little energy I usually have.
My mind feels cloudy and detached, but a ray of sunshine arrives tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I turn 29.
This birthday is A BIG DEAL, my friends. The last year of my twenties begins. Now, I realize time is arbitrary and does not exist as linear as we tend to perceive, but since when has that stopped me from dwelling on the past and worrying constantly about the future?
I have a difficult time living in the moment. I would like to change that.
I hope to try that, tomorrow; living in the moment.
Last year, I kept it lowkey and went to dinner with a couple good friends. I was working in an office, grateful to have a job three months after graduating college. The person I was seeing gave me a gigantic stuffed animal for my birthday gift.
Little did I know, that job and that relationship would be factors in a breakdown roughly three months down the road.
Funny, isn’t it, what we don’t see coming? Yet, in hindsight, the issues are glaringly obvious. The things we told ourselves are ‘no big deal’ turn out to be the huge red flags waving around, all but shouting, ‘pay attention!’
I’m lucky to live in a place where autumn is full of cool breezes and vibrant colours. I’ve been doing my best to get out and enjoy it, before the leaves fall and the snow arrives. It’s difficult to tamp down the anxiety enough to actually go outside.
But I’m trying.
We celebrated Thanksgiving last weekend, so in that spirit, I wanted to make a list of things I am grateful for right now.
Most of all, I am thankful for my daughter. As her birthday approaches, I am reminded just how blessed I am to be her mother.
Being able to enjoy and appreciate the colours of the leaves.
Curling up under a fuzzy blanket with a pile of books.
Trying different flavours of coffee and tea (even though I tend to stick with my favourites).
Movie nights cuddled up with my daughter.
Checking out different places to go for a walk and take pictures.
My friends and family. Even though I isolate myself, I know that I am loved.
Last, I am grateful for the gift of writing.
Thank you for reading. May October be a calm, steady breath in our lives.
For someone who makes mountains out of molehills (like me), times of transition are especially tough. For the past several months, I have been searching for a job. I have had around five interviews, and I was not the selected candidate for any of the positions.
Now, for a regular person, rejection is not easy to swallow. For someone struggling with depression and anxiety, this type of rejection feels like those dark, niggling voices telling us how worthless we are …are correct.
Thus the cycle begins: Of course I did not get the job! I am not good enough and I never will be. What is the point? Why bother anymore?
The loudest instinct becomes the one nudging us under a rock, into that heavy darkness of defeat.
Rationally, however, I know I should be treating these experiences as adventures; as necessary stepping stones that will one day lead to a job, if not a career. I should be chalking up these interviews as professional experience – and I do.
I need to take this time to focus on myself and my own growth. Yes, I will spend time licking my wounds. Rejection hurts; it always will. But it is up to me how I decide to react to it.
Just thinking about writing made me feel anxious. Writing is supposed to be my outlet, not a source of stress. Instead of writing, I have been reading voraciously. I’m at the library every two weeks checking out new books. I’ve been focused on thrillers, mysteries, police procedurals, and histories of concentration camps and first-person accounts of time spent in the camps. The books range from 300-900 pages and lately, when my daughter is back at her dad’s house, I will devote hours and hours to reading.
It’s escapism. I know this. I acknowledge it.
I should be getting out of the house, going for walks and such – but I’d rather be a hermit and read the day away.
I recently saw a psychiatrist for the first time. He clocked me right away, and we discussed my low self esteem and fear of failure. He and my main doctor highly recommend more counseling, but man, it is so exhausting peering into my wounds and talking about how I feel and why.
I dislike talking about my issues in person. Writing about them, however, can be cathartic. I’d also much rather hear about other people’s problems and issues… so I don’t have to focus on my own.
I’m at a turning point in my life. I can feel it. I’m on the verge of something.
I have been having trouble gathering my thoughts lately. I feel scattered and unfocused.
I had a sleep study done a couple months ago, and recently received the results: …I’m a good sleeper. I was surprised, considering I’ve been exhausted for so many years. Even the specialist and my doctor were surprised. So, back to the drawing board.
I broke down crying in my doctor’s office. She’s been my family doctor for almost fifteen years; she’s very aware of my many ups and downs. I trust her and feel comfortable with her, which is a big part of the battle. I told her how stressed out I am and how I feel like a burden. How I’m so, so tired all the time and no matter what tests we do or what we try, nothing is helping.
She listened. She told me we would figure it out. We discussed ways to help reduce my stress, and now I’m trying a combination of Celexa and Wellbutrin. Hopefully I feel more ‘even’ soon.
I’ve been a mess. I apply for jobs daily, I send follow up emails, I do all the things I’m supposed to, and still – nothing. This feeds into feeling like a useless drain. I beat myself up a lot; my inner dialogue is horrendous. Intellectually I know that I need to think more positively and not be so hard on myself but damn, it’s difficult. My friendships and relationships are suffering and all I can do is worry about it. I either don’t know how to fix it or I can’t fix it.
I have so much I want to write. So many new ideas, on top of insights and questions and observations… But I’ve been tired. Bone-deep exhaustion fogs the majority of my waking hours; I don’t know what it’s like to not be tired anymore.
Today’s word is a happy one:
Redolent has two definitions in the Merriam-Webster dictionary that I enjoy very much:
Since I have hit a wall creatively, I have decided to begin something new. Every Wednesday, I will post a word I really REALLY enjoy. There are many words in the English language – some gross me out, some remind me of soft and fluffy things, while others evoke dark things that thrive in deep shadowy places.
Today’s word is:
Truculent is an adjective. It means fierce; cruel; vitriolic; scathing; aggressively hostile; belligerent. Its origin is Latin, the roots of which mean savage and pitiless.
Can you think of anyone who fits this description?
I can think of a few. From real life, and from pop culture.
Who comes to mind:
Wolverine (hello aggressively hostile)
Donald Trump (vitriolic)
Bad guys tend to be truculent – but some heroes can fall in there, too.