Writers Block

I’ve been trying to write for weeks.

It is something that sustains me, it is something that heals me and when I don’t feel heard it as a way to make my voice amplified, to connect and not feel so stuck in my head.

There’s been points in my life where I stepped away from it, much to my detriment.

A few years back, with a renewed energy the stories began to pour out, I committed to working on the shadow side of myself, and from there a few narratives were born. There was some collaboration, tidal wave of inspiration and such trust that the stories and essays would flow.

While this particular bout of writer’s block feels like it came on just after the start of the pandemic, truly, when I look back, it has been a slow death since last fall.

First the fiction. There was the death of two cherished characters. They showed such promise and longevity, and were exhilarating to write.

But unfortunately that once promised epic story has became representative of what has become a bittersweet and painful period for me. In a tortuous narrative, (as devastating as I felt) they met their end. Silenced, stopped in mid journey. In the ether they now languish.

Though I did find the courage just before shut down to submit a short version to a few publications.

There has been a fair amount of interest in what may have come next and some suggestions for editing. The real possibilities to see it in print.

But now I am frozen. I can not bring myself to open the file, to polish it up and let it move forward. I did not anticipate how raw I still feel about all that was lost at that time, including the grief about the two leads. How much I miss them. How much they still have to say.

I’ve been able to hiccup some poems and the odd paragraph out, but even the ability to write essays has withered.

Those are my best connection to navigate the world around me and my mental health. But it has been near impossible to write anything I feel confident with.

I want to add hope, insight and support to the people that read my stuff. But all I can muster is despondent rage, and no adequate words to explain.

Life as we knew it has always had its hardships. But this global clusterfuck has added a layer of grimy soot that has not left anyone untouched.

I wait… wait for the words to come. I hope that there are characters choose to speak. I hope the characters ( myself) I laid waste to may someday forgive me. I wait for wisdom, knowledge and hope to share. I wait for the insight to be able to move through, over, under or around this block that feels insurmountable.

I wait….

Moon

I closed my eyes. Let Her silver glow wash over me.

The words I long to have heard, I speak to Her through still lips.

The coolness of the air prickling my skin, little reminders of how alive I really am.

My cheeks are wet, I am comforted by her soft embrace.

Blessed are the children of the Moon, for no Mother is more forgiving of our shortcomings than She.

DM.

Being overwhelmed. An understatement.

We’ve all felt it. We’ve all muddled through. There are degrees.

It’s a silent thing. Sometimes it’s a response to mental health issues. Sometimes it’s a trigger for them.Sometimes, even when help is offered, we are so far down the rabbit hole we don’t know where to begin. The fear that if we open up, the tidal wave that may come out won’t stop. So we don’t. Vitriol and sarcasm leak out instead. We detach from those that can/want to help. We hyper-attach to people or things that may serve as a temporary distraction. We fix a mask to our faces and hope it holds for public viewing.

We look at others who seem to manage and think we are just weak, disorganized, deficient in someway that we can’t handle our day to day. We choose to see their mask, not the chaos.

This is a marker in my own mental health. Over the years I have been working hard at certain aspects of my mental illness, digging out triggers, learning new tools to work through an anxiety attack, working through buried trauma and anger. Over time I did a lot of things to distract myself from the day today overwhelming crush of life that I could not manage while the battles raged.

I was pretty decent at giving the appearance that I could juggle it all, marriage, motherhood, career(s), creative outlets, working on my anxiety disorder, a social life. I even fooled myself, until I couldn’t.

When I was in Vancouver last year with a dear friend for the SPN con, I was blessed to spend time with another lifelong friend I hadn’t physically seen in years. We’ve always had a bond that can not be explained. We talked late into the night. He has struggled hard over the years too, and last year was one of the hardest. I supported as best I could, from the physical distance that had separated us. I was so relieved to finally look into his eyes and see he was finding solid ground.He took my hands and looked me in the eyes and said ‘enough’. He could see my through my mask. He knew I had hit a critical time. And he lovingly called me out. He saw all the cracks in the facade.

There were other profound experiences and conversations I had that weekend ( who knew a tv show convention would lead to profound life changes?!) that began to percolate ideas in my head and heart.

I had been rocking the bright red hair for some time prior to this ( ‘hey look, i’m good! I’m vibrant! I am a spectacle to enjoy!! I am on FIRE!!!!) It represented the ‘fiery drive’ I was bringing to my 40s. Living past my mother. Determined to prove I deserved to do so. In Vancouver I dyed it black/purple. Initially it was for cosplay, so, I could have done it with a temporary or a wig.But I knew in my heart the redhead was not coming back from Vancouver. She couldn’t. The next step could not be done by her. The wild red needed to be grounded and brutally honest with herself.

In my juggling act of the last few years my anxiety would often take over and I would go back and forth between proving all ‘ I am!’ And lamenting my torment with some of my monsters and how much of a failure I was…. it’s funny, because at that time a newer friend would take pains to remind me I’m human, and that was ok. I’d feel disappointed and angry at this, which looking back now, I didn’t want to be seen as mere mortal, I wanted to believe I was ‘better’ than that because ‘look how many plates I can spin in the air!All while battling my monsters!’( please pay no attention to all the broken plates on the floor).

There have been a few catalysts since my return in September. Situations presented to me that forced my hand to truly be accountable, not just for what’s going on, for what’s been avoided, but the fall out on others around me. I had to take a long glaring look at what I was avoiding and why, my boundaries, my actions and really decide what I was going to do.

I realized I had let so much fester in the background, that the ‘hidden’ clutter in my head and house could no longer be ignored. I was and had been, for sometime feeding some of my own monsters. All the while, dear reader, sharing some of the battles with you, raising battle cries, encouragement and showing how much I was learning about my own mental health struggles. I was and am still determined to help myself and the people I care about.But in someways I’ve failed you all dear readers. I kept to the light and didn’t really jump into the muck until the fall. I had risked relationships due to the clutter, disorganization and noise.A few situations came to a head.

It is hard. Small chunks at a time. Set a new boundary here. Clean out that closet there. Get paperwork in order here. Hard conversation and accountability there.Still battling monsters. Trying to not chastise my self for the disorganization. Trying to not feel broken at the disconnect with others who had been pulled into my vortex. Hoping that I can be forgiven by those I’ve disappointed by the messes created. Hoping to forgive myself and be less disappointed that there was such a wounded duality. Learning to say no. Learning to hear no. Making it not so much about me. Making honest room for others. Work at undoing a trigger. Keep trying move forward and plan. Find forgiveness. Reconnect in healthy ways.

Try to reestablish so much of the good, creative and ‘magical’ things I discovered about myself, my spiritual nature, and the world around me, during the last few years. And be the person I intend. The person I almost thought I was. All the while fighting the slippery slope of falling back into comfortable patterns that no longer serve a healthy purpose.
A tall order. With no guaranteed outcome.

Reflected in the mood hair, I suppose. The red flamed out. With it, I hope, the burning chaos that cluttered the spaces, scorched myself, others and pulled all the air out of the room.In its place, a shadow of the embers. Dark, earthy. Rivers of purple and faint red wind through the pitch. Representing cool movement forward, I hope.

I appreciate all of you so much, those who have followed, read my stuff and encouraged me. I hope you will continue to do so. I hope my honesty will not discourage your faith in me. As I work at the changes in my real ( not online) life I also hope to find forgiveness from those I love. And forgiveness for myself.
Thank you all so much for reading. ❤️💜

Why?

Today my thoughts are tossing around various comments and questions I have been asked about what and why I do what I do for others.

Why are you determined to see the best in people? Because I want people to see the best in me.

Why do you try to understand the ‘why’ behind people’s actions? Because I believe seldom are people cruel and mean for no reason. An animal in pain will react in kind. And I think understanding and compassion are a start to healing.

Why do you forgive? Because there have been times in my life that being forgiven for mistakes has made a difference for me. Forgiving lightens my load.
It does not mean forgetting, but if someone truly made a mistake and is trying to move on to something better, forgiveness can be a beautiful starting gift.

Aren’t you worried you get used? Sometimes, I am a fallible human after all. But truthfully for those that take until it seems I have nothing or those that feel entitled with no return, well it’s sad for them. My life is rich in those who love and appreciate me, and over the years it has been proven time and again.

Why do you encourage and support those that you do? I am genuinely inspired by the people I support and encourage. Every single one of them is overcoming their own challenges, bettering, deepening their knowledge of themselves and the world around them. I see into people sometimes, and the potential they have. I just want to see them get there

Am I perfect at this? No

Do I have an agenda? Yes, to learn, about me and how I relate to all of the world around me. How and where I fit and what I can do while I’m here. Helping others on their path also teaches me how to deal with my own monsters, wants and needs.

Do I help everyone? No. I’m more selective than I used to be. One of my lessons. I also try to not force it. And sometimes when I realize someone really does not want, appreciate or need it, I move on. No malice, usually, just a peaceful release.

My Dear Village- I truly appreciate you all, and I hope you appreciate each other. At the end love of self and love of each other is all we have.

Motivate me please

This morning, while I drink my coffee I am trying to understand motivation. What motivates people to do what they do. Not the lifestyle stuff, eating well, exercise etc, but the motivation to be kind, mindful, or cruel, deceitful, helpful, or harmful.
Is there pleasure derived from being mean? causing harm? creating oppression? disconnection?

I know in nature animals will lash out when they feel threatened or are in pain. Aside from humans (and the occasional cat), very few species cruelly toy with each other for sport.

I think back over my life and all the experiences I have had. For better or worse, it seems to keep me more determined to be kind, thoughtful, engaged to truly see someone, to lend a hand, keep my heart open and to trust. I look at what I can be met with here, often it is joy, connection, creativity, challenge, growth, support. (my village❤️❤️)
But lately, my mission if you will, has lead me to the hard truths that my open heart, excitement, passion for connection, kindness, compassion will be misread, twisted, ignored, or turned back upon me to wound. This creates feelings of stupidity, sadness, and the wounded feel of trust being destroyed. It is here I get the urge, the urge to ‘be like everyone else’……

So what motivates me? To be seen. Not in a glorious, celebrity way, exalted, and worshipped. But to be seen for my heart, the love I offer to all, to be understood, my wounds, scars, how that has shaped me, recognized that I am far from perfect, but that I, like I believe most, just want to connect.

I am motivated by seeing the smile on someones face when they achieve something big for themselves.

I am motivated by seeing hope light someones eyes, where it was dim before.

I am motivated by the direct connection of a hug or holding someones hand, feeling the energy move between us. That direct link.

I am motivated by the relief on someone’s face when they realize that they are seen, accepted.

I am motivated to see the way I want to be seen, as a whole, flawed, worthy of compassion, love and understanding, creative being, waiting to connect.

I am motivated by love.