Something More

I have not written anything on my blog for a few weeks. I took a break. Accepting that I needed some time was not an easy one.  I have a bad habit on not focusing on the here and now. Always living my life for one certain event.

Over the past 2 weeks, I lived each day and acknowledged that my life was mine to live, however I see fit.  I wanted to step back and settle my nerves……and the voices in head. I have learned that a lot of people have this inner voice. Most writers engage with it quite regularly, so I decided to listen a bit closer to what I needed.

 

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ME vs. MYSELF

I have always hated confrontation. Growing up, I despised rocking the boat and causing conflict. As I entered into my thirties, I realized that while I was busy making everyone else happy…I was not. Appeasing others kept me busy. The type of mindless busy-ness where you stand around smiling and nodding, but never really caring about the outcome.

I was faking it.

Confronting my own negativity has been a cruel and never ending battle. Recognizing the tornado of emotions swirling inside was painful and depressing.  My habit of denial never allowed sadness, hurt, or anger to surface. They just swirled….building until I felt overwhelmed.  The fury that would then explode, left a path of destruction.

Self-destruction in not pretty.



SOMEDAY…..……

I began blogging to achieve my "something more". I finally defined what this was to me: Becoming a published author.

Writing daily was therapeutic and calming. But at the same time, I was frustrated. Where blogging satisfied my writing itch, I realized that my goals were misconstrued. I only blog once a week, so this left free time. I had time to build myself as a writer, but I tended to shy away from anything writing related.

The other day, I was talking with a friend about how I love to write…..some days.  We chatted about my goal of publishing a novel…..that may happen.......someday.

Photo Credit: © Anthony Dodd

I confessed that even after leaving my full-time job, my personal goals were still being filed under that familiar SOMEDAY tab.  Losing my focus when writing was causing me anxiety. This was my “something more”, damn it! Where’s the satisfaction I craved? 

Thoughts invaded my head of quitting. Just be a mom and enjoy the next million years until they leave the house. Should establishing myself as a published writer wait for another time? Like when pigs fly?

 I chalked this up to my typical behavior.

You see, I am an instant gratification junkie. Thriving on and sometimes overdosing on the short-lived thrill. 

My friend listened to my SOMEDAY excuses. She asked if I had written my first chapter yet I could feel my cheeks flush. Admitting the truth embarrassed me. The truth was no, I had not written a chapter. I had not even expanded my outline or ideas onto a measly first page.  

Next came the tough question......

"What are you waiting for?" 
 

Admit the Truth

We all have other duties in our life. We all make excuses. We all face the challenges of making time to focus on a dream, to pursue a goal, or to slow down and recognize that you do hold the power over your own life.

 

 I realized.....the things you are searching for to complete your life…… are found inside of you.  I needed to stop looking elsewhere. I needed to stop using my fear of failure as a crutch.

If I never sit down and create this novel, my story will never be shared. If I never send it in for publication, I will not get a rejection letter. If no one reads it, I will never hear the negative criticism.  That's the inner voice of fear talking.

On the flip side, if I continue to allow fear to rule my life,  I will never experience success. I will never see my book in print. I will never achieve  my "something more".  

No.....I will not wake up tomorrow and tell my children that it is OK to fail at whatever they do. BUT, I will make sure to teach them not to let the fear of failure rule their lives.  Straight A's, awards, and winning games are all great accomplishments, but there is so much more to it.

  If you never TRY something just because you MAY or MAY NOT fail, well........you will never know what you missed along the way.  

I may type a million first pages and fail 999,999 times. BUT that 1 page that makes it into my book, will be worth all the others failures before it.

Walking the Plank....Take 2!

Little moments in life are cherished. First steps, first words, the first loose tooth. These milestones are ones we gladly mark down in baby books or record on film.  With each of my children, I hold onto these fading memories and mourn their passing. Before we are ready, those sweet moments are overshadowed with ones that make us cry and cringe.

 Having College Child, Middle-Child and Diva Child 5 years apart, gave my husband and me a breather. Over a year ago, we completed our first teenage voyage. We visited hell and thankfully made it back. I don’t recommend this trip, but I know it is inevitable in the vicious cycle of parenting.

I do not want to make this trip again. I keep trying to refund my tickets, but I find that no one wants them and sadly I don’t blame them. The ulcers are about healed….but now the next kid is up to bat and we are going to be yanked back out into the game.  And there will be another to follow that one.

© Jordy Silva | Dreamstime Stock Photos

The Middle Child is taking a course, through his school, called “Worth the Wait”. Between this  and Diva Child questioning comments from pharmaceutical commercials, I feel like I'm walking the plank. I guarantee that  shark infested waters are safer than the questions about hormones and the facts of life. 

 

Finding the Humor

The other day, I picked my son up from school.

Me: “So, how was your day?”

Middle Child:  “Good.”

Me: “Do you have homework?”…..hopeful for more than the one syllable answer.

Middle Child: “No, but today we had to go to the Library with the other class and learn about STD’s, AIDS, and Herpes. Did you know you could die from Stage 4 Herpes?”

Me: Silence……as I dig in my bag of tricks to find a proper response…….I confess that I would have been happy with a one syllable answer. (It’s called denial and wonder why these conversations ALWAYS occur while I am driving.)

Middle Child: "I also failed 2 assignments because I did not finish on time. We had three days, but I did not get it done."

Me: "What were the assignments?"

Middle Child: "We had glue the body parts on Male and Female Anatomy diagrams."

Me:  Silence.....Thinking to myself...the female anatomy will always be a mystery to you, bud.

 

The kicker to all of  this is, he earned a 69 on both assignments.  I literally laughed till I cried. Yep…….quite comical, right?! Finding the humor in the beginning of this long road will help me.  I learned this the first time around.

 

Marking Your Territory

With my son, I find that I am the territorial one. Whereas, with our daughter, it was my husband. I honestly thought he would “mark his territory” to prevent the boys from invading.

Now, I find my husband giving our Middle Child high five’s and smiling like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. It is a little unsettling how the double-standard is alive and well in our home.

As the mother of a boy, I still see him as my baby…..my 1 and ONLY male child. He is very precious to me and I feel I should interview any little girl that crosses his path. My husband thinks this is a bad idea, but I am currently constructing a questionnaire. God help the woman who breaks his heart.

 

Face Reality.....it'll be here before you know it.

Watching my children grow up is intriguing, heartbreaking, and downright exhausting.  They are faced with adult decisions way too early.

All I can do is be honest, welcoming, and open to anything they need to discuss……after they pour me a glass of wine.

The Pen & Paper Side: There is No Magic Left in My Kingdom

I am not a person that reads the news every day. Of course, I lightly glance at the headlines and get updated on the current events. But sadly, I find it easier to not dwell on the reality that is playing on the morning news, the radio, or the colorful headlines that flash across our homepages.

I was given the assignment of creating a poem based on a current news article.  Typical me, I skipped over pieces regarding war and politics. My attention was drawn to a small title, snuggled below the flashy pictures of the major headlines.  I clicked on the link, In Disney's shadow, homeless families struggle. Everyone loves this magical place and it confused me why families would struggle there. I needed to know more.

As I read the piece, I felt disillusioned. I never associated the Happiest Place on Earth with homelessness. Of course, I see it on our street corners every day, but a person’s mind plays tricks. It covers up the truth and allows us to keep blinders on.  As I kept reading, I felt the urge to tell a story of how all things magical are not always what they appear to be.

 

There is No Magic Left in My Kingdom

 

Smashed in the backseat, between my sisters,

I dream of magical creatures, princesses and roller coaster rides.

My sisters say I’m silly and that I don’t understand.

I tell them to shut up and ward them off with my small 8 year old stare,

A quiet scolding comes from the front, my head then turns to meet my mother’s gaze.

 

Mom and Dad whisper, a quiet mummer that I cannot make out.

I know it’s never good when their whispers somehow reduce the hope that once filled their hearts.

My Dad’s smile stopped reaching his eyes a few weeks ago.

This was when I was told we were leaving the only home I’ve ever known.

I was sad, lonely even…until they told me we would live close to the Magic Kingdom.

 

My magical dreams carry me to our first stop.

A small motel on the side of a road my dad calls U.S 192.

My sisters grumble, I push my way past and unload my small suitcase from the back.

It’s like a vacation I tell them, it’ll be fun.

They don’t believe me, I can see it in the way they avoid my stare.

 

Four weeks have flown by, as we load back up the car.

I still have not seen the castle that I read about in my books.  

I sit in the same spot I sat only a month before, squashed between them, but this time I understand.

Understanding because my sisters no longer make fun of me, they realize I see a glimpse of our reality.

My parents look tired and their smiles are few and far between.

 

Our new place has a view…of the parking lot that holds buses that take others to the kingdom.

I sit and stare and wonder how I can sneak aboard, just one time is all I need.

Our belongings have piled around, but I make sure my view is not blocked.

I make sure of this because it’s the only hope around.

I continue to draw to keep my young brain busy, as my mama likes to say.

 

Dad is gone for long hours and never seems to find what he goes out to search for.

Mom cries at night, behind the peeling bathroom door.

I can hear my dad, always whispering…..that we will be ok.

My sisters disappear for long periods at a time and I feel uncertain of tomorrow.

I am scared that there is no longer any magic left here to find, as I sit alone and wait for another move.