This is what it's like to be a writer. I'm a writer, I've always loved english, reading, writing it's just my thing. Loving english and wanting to be a writer are two different things. Loving english is one thing, so you like to read or write poetry, that's fine. But deciding to spend your life writing is hard work.
Especially if you work from home, there are so many distractions. Now my husband works from home too and sometimes that's good but sometimes it's more of a distraction. If I get stuck on a paragraph or a chapter it's so easy to log onto Pinterest and spend an eternity searching for cupcake recipes I'll never try or workouts to get killer abs. My dog will bring a toy to me and I'll spend an hour playing fetch with her. My husband will get tired of being in the house and want to go for a walk. You'll hear of a marathon of a show you like, or twelve days worth if you watched The Simpsons marathon a couple of weeks ago. Everything becomes a distraction when you work from home. EVERYTHING!
I've tried all kind of things to stay focused. I wake up early and go for a walk around the neighborhood with some neighbors, I workout in the mornings, I do yoga, I meditate. Anything to get rid of pent up energy and clear my mind but that's not always a good thing. Sometimes I clear my mind too much and can't remember how I wanted to go about the next chapter.
I don't know about other writers but I get stuck A LOT! Sometimes it takes me months to unclog my mind, I call it mental constipation. When I get mentally constipated the only thing that helps me dislodge the clog is to re-read everything I have already written. It takes a while but it helps me.
Then I go through a moment of panic when I question everything that I wrote. I wonder if it's good, if it will make sense to anyone other than me, if I'm cut out to be a writer, or if I'll forever be a freelance writer that doesn't get paid for the work I do.
Like I said before I love writing, it will always be my passion but geez does it have to be so difficult. I don't think I'll ever choose a different path for me. Writing is my life. And now I'm furthering my career by becoming a book reviewer. That brings two of my passions together, reading and writing. I don't get paid actual money right now but I get free books which is a win to me!
An angel is sent to Earth on a mission.
But falling in love is not part of the plan.
Three angels – Gabriel, the warrior; Ivy, the healer; and Bethany, the youngest and most human – are sent by Heaven to bring good to a world falling under the influence of darkness. They work hard to conceal their luminous glow, superhuman powers, and, most dangerous of all, their wings, all the while avoiding all human attachments.
Then Bethany meets Xavier Woods, and neither of them is able to resist the attraction between them. Gabriel and Ivy do everything in their power to intervene, but the bond between Xavier and Bethany seems too strong.
The angel’s mission is urgent, and dark forces are threatening. Will love ruin Bethany or save her?
Have you ever watched a really good movie? Like so good that it made you dread having to live in this reality anymore? If you haven't then you must either live under a rock or have an amazing life; to not want to leave the usual for the special.
I've seen some movies that I would give up my house and everything inside to be able to exist in their dimensions of time and space. I've also read some books so good that I try to picture myself in them (I'm lame, I know).
I read a lot! I read at least one book a week, sometimes more. So when I find a book good enough that I wish I could be a part of it then; I know I found a good read! I wouldn't want to be in The Hunger games! Not because it's a bad book but because I just really wouldn't want to be in that. Fighting for food? No thank you, I'll just sit over here eating cupcakes while watching it on Netflix.
But come on, who hasn't pictured themselves going to Hogwarts. Being best friends with Harry, Ron and Hermione, changing Draco to be with the good guys. Helping them defeat Voldemort and enjoy getting my mail from owls instead of the post office...Just me? Cool.
Anyways back to the point of this, how do you cope with reality? How do you just continue living your mundane life after reading a spectacular book or watching an epic movie? I'm at a lose here!
Kind of like after I watched The Avengers for the first time and wanted to be in it. I wanted to be fly around with Iron man and beat the crap out of evil robotic looking aliens. Yes I am aware of how incredibly weird I am, I have come to enjoy my oddness.
It took me weeks to get back to my normal state of mind after that movie. So maybe I should ask how do normal people cope with it because I am far from normal. Please don't tell me I'm alone in this because if so then maybe I need to be in a padded room screaming pudding at everyone that walks by me. (Supernatural reference)
After my husbands Grandmother passed away, leaving a measly four people to sort through her mountain of things, it really makes you think about the stupid crap people will keep. Something people didn't know about my oh-so-loving grandmother-in-law was that she was a hoarder.
Not as bad as those people on that t.v. show where they can't walk through their house, but still a huge task for the four of us to tackle. And even worse, we have no clue what we're doing most of the time, we don't know what's trash, keep, valuable. To me, someone on the outside of the bloodline, it all looks like a bunch of crap. Kind of like just light a match and roast marshmallows while singing campfire songs.
Sadly, we can't do that. Instead we have to go through everything....EVERYTHING. I know I'm supposed to be sympathetic to my husband and his uncle, who just lost a important person in their lives, but it's hard to feel sorry for someone when I'm elbow deep in grandma panties that they are telling me I should put in the donate pile. Who the hell buys used underwear from the thrift store? I mean really, I know people will buy anything but gross, stained underwear?
If you can get passed the odd requests of donate-able items then you have to deal with people that knew her, wanting a memento. To most that's no big deal, especially with the amount of stuff that is trying to bust through the walls, but when someone says something like "Can I have something to remember her by, anything...has anyone claimed her pots yet?" Pots...you want to remember her every time you cook? What kind of messed up person comes up to a grieving, exhausted family and says can I have her pots? Needless to say that idiot did not get any pots, she left empty handed, I guess she better hope her memories last.
When you get passed all that nonsense then you have to deal with the crazy things you find.
In a dresser in the master bedroom I found:
-A drawer filled to the top with expired flower seeds (yes they expire.)
-A wind chime.
-A set of dishes.
-So many picture frames I can open up an art gallery.
-Enough baby pictures of my husband to wallpaper the whole house.
-Signed Titles to three cars and the house. (Lucky)
-Gobs of Christmas cards.
That was in one dresser! I was trying to figure out how she had room for clothes with all that in there but don't worry she found a way.
I guess at least it's entertaining because you never know what you're going to find: Speeding tickets from '05. Never cashed checks from '07. Calendars from every year ranging from '91 - '14. All the food in the pantry was expired, most since '08. You can't help but laugh and wonder how much you were poisoned when she fed you.
Mostly I just question why she kept some of the things that she did. I have found so many broken things shoved into drawers, at first I would ask why, but now I just shake my head and throw it away. Before any of this I would look at that Hoarders show and say how could anyone live like that?
Now I question not only how can they live like that but also, how can they do that to their families? At the time they don't think about it but when they die it becomes their families problem. It's so overwhelming to me and she wasn't even my blood relative.
Why do older people think everyone needs to have kids? Why is it so hard for them to believe a young woman has no desire to have children? Especially after you get married, I have never heard so many people ask me about having kids until I said, I do.
I don't want kids, I've never really been a kid person. We have a mutual dislike for each other. I know it's hard for my large family to deal with, me not wanting children. And I do sometimes have a small twinge of guilt, when I see my Dad play with my dog and I think about how he would be such a good grandpa. Unfortunately that's not enough for me to have children.
I already had the "you're being selfish," thrown at me a time or two when I told someone, actually I believe that was from my Dad. It hurts when people tell you things like that about a decision you've made. It's almost like they would rather you have children and regret it than to live the way you want.
A lot of people have told me "you'll change your mind when you get older," no I really don't think I will. I have never liked kids, I've never had a fascination with babies either. When my sister sees a young child she always gushes over them, not me. I sit there and hope it doesn't see me.
My Mom is the same way as me, she said she loves her kids but she doesn't get goo goo eyed at any other child she sees. She is actually one of the few that told me not to have kids. My grandma and me next door neighbor told me not to have them if I absolutely did not want them. And I agree with them, unless I magically change my mind I should not have any. Because I know myself and I really think I would regret and maybe even resent them.
I don't have a perfect body now but I workout regularly and I'm getting more and more comfortable in my own skin, a child would wreck havoc on my body. I don't know if I could get over that. Someone told me I wouldn't even think about it but I think they were lying. As much as I put into getting my body this way, there's no way I could NOT care about it being mushy and even more full of stretch marks. With my anxiety as it is now, I would get Postpartum depression. Is that really how people want me to start my life with children? By being depressed?
The problem with have anxiety is that you always have it. I never had any major problems with it until I turned 21. It was something I had all my life but never to the point of a panic attack until then. I remember the good old days when I would stress about something and then it would go away. That was magical.
Now it doesn't go away, it sits inside me festering until it just bursts out. It doesn't have to anything big anymore, it used to be over big things that was happening to me at that time in my life; finals, taking my drivers test, failing my drivers test, taking my drivers test for the second time, pretending to know what I was doing at my job. But now I can get anxiety about ANYTHING.
This morning I freaked out about not having any friends that lived near me, why you may ask? Not because I miss them or I need a girls night out, no. It was because if Clark died first and then later I died, no one would know. I could die in my house and no one know. Maybe my neighbors would eventually smell my decaying body but that could be days or weeks. I know I'll be dead so I really don't think I'll care about maggots eating away at my insides while the outside world just goes on. But I would want someone to notice I'm missing.
Then you would probably think that would make me venture out and try to make friends. Wrong! I have social anxiety and thinking about going to parties, bbq's, etc. makes me go into a panic.
Don't get me wrong I'm friendly with my neighbors. Only when I'm talking to them alone though, when Clark joins the conversation it's like my brain shuts down. I quickly become one of those quiet wives that just laughs and nods to whatever her husband says. I'm a conversationalist bobble head. I would love to hang out with them sometime but they have people over every weekend and I can't do that. I wish I had it in me to do something every weekend but I don't.
I don't want to have to take medication to be able to mingle with people but that's almost to the point I'm at now. And Oh my God it drives me crazy how easy it is for Clark to talk to anyone. I wish it was that easy for me. It make me miss living around my family because I'm myself when I'm with them. It's not as difficult for me to be around them.
Clark asked me if I ever considered going into therapy. Honestly no, it never occurred to me before. I didn't think sitting in a room with someone I didn't know talking about my social awkwardness and anxiety was going to help me with it. I'm at a loss now a days. I really don't know what to do anymore.
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