I am learning to be a new person, in order to do that I have to quiet the mental gremlins. That is harder than it sounds. I am a survivor. And I am tired of surviving. No, I am not suicidal. But I am trying to change the direction of my life. I am trying to make it where I no longer am having the string of disasters that my life has been up till now.
What that means for me? It means for to start I let my art and my words flow. I continue to put myself out there. I consider writing the memoir that I have been told was something I need to do. That will probably be some of the hardest words I write. I have shared a few of the stories.
To ease some of the panic, I will say that I don’t know if I will publish it. If I do it will be under a pen name.
This is one of the hardest topics. After all, most days I feel like I am a failure at being a parent. Am I? Many say no. But, still I feel the strain. Today, I found myself angry. Not at my daughter, but at my mother. An old hurt came forth from a new wound.
Now, Since becoming a mother I find myself asking how much of my issues with her stem from normal teen angst. But, somethings….
My daughter is beautiful. And I try to protect her from those with the lack of vision to see her as she is. Today that included my own mother, who sees things no differently than she did when I was a teen. Which is really her loss. Through my anger and misery, I reached out to friends. Friends who could listen to me rant and understand the pain behind it.
The pain of a society that feeds the stigma my mother uses. Big equals unhealthy. The whole situation was that my teen was 250 lbs. She, through healthier choices and adding excersize has lost 20lbs. She also gained an inch. So today when we went to a local health fair, a doctor at the hospital used her height and weight to determine her bmi. She was told it was within normal range.
I tried telling my mom, thinking that she would be proud of my baby. I forgot that my mother was always harshest about my weight. So when my mom responded that the doctor lied and that my daughter was not in normal BMI for her height, my heart broke. Instead of another soul to encourage a little girl struggling with her self image I had found another to tear her apart. I will not allow it. This is where I am becoming the parent I want to be.
To those who would have negative views of her….
I will not allow your issues to hurt her! She is healthy, and still working out who she is to be. Maybe I am overweight, but when I look at her I do not see numbers. I see a beautiful, sensitive child who is already struggling. I teach her about healthy choices and I let her decide how she will be. She is still growing. She has already gotten taller than I. She will reach the stars! And I will not allow your issues to stop her. Your judgement is unwanted, and if you cannot see her amazingness then you are not needed in her life!
A mother tired of judgements
I normally use my personal fb page for sharing the rare gofundme, but this is an orphanage in need. Please if you can help it will go along way! If not let’s pass it along to find the ones who are able to help!
mountain star orphanage Kenya
How many times have you found yourself thinking about the past? I am guilty of doing it often. We are all a collection of stories, some that we do not tell. The reason why we don’t varies some, depending upon the story. Some we are ashamed of, some we think are going to be boring to the world around us.
I am finding out that sometimes those stories are more interesting than we realize. I try to be open about my history and tell my stories, but some of them do not really sit on the mind as something that I need to tell. Yet, each of them are a part of who I am. I am a unique individual who has seen some of the darkness that lives in the heart of man. I am a survivor who has learned to make do with what I have. And I am a woman who has seen both good and bad, and came through it ready to try to tell my stories. I don’t know if I will ever be able to write all of the stories of a life survived, or even if I should. Not all of my mistakes are ones that any one would learn from… Even me. Still for now, I will attempt to continue to dribble my story in small gushes to this blog, and to my poetry. Perhaps my journey will aid those who stumble across my words.
I have a wonderful psychic as a friend. She does readings to help with her family’s finances. If you need a reading she is who I suggest.
Go check her out!
I have many stories, I think that we all do. Some of us, the ones who have been through hard moments, we hide the stories. We have been taught to feel the shame of those stories. To feel less because of them. And I refuse.
My memory is still very fragmented. I blocked more of my story out to save my mental health than I remember. Yet, I remember enough. I am a survivor. I was abused. I was raped, multiple times. And when I asked for help I was told it never happened. I was told that I was crazy.
I might be crazy, but it did happen. I have been brave before, I told the man who abused me as a child that I would scream if he came near me again. I was eight or nine. I’m not entirely sure of the exact age. He locked me in the trunk of his car and told me I would die there. I believed him. He convinced me that no one would ever believe me. The sad part is he was right. It took me until I was thirteen to gain the courage to tell anyone. To my shame, I was told it was not true.
So much of my life I have been fighting for my sanity and my life. I am in my fourties, and for the first time in my life I am not crazy. I know my truth. I will always be the person who was made from the hell I walked through. But I will not hide my truths any longer. I am not going to let those truths break my spirit anymore.
Who is my audience? As an author there is not a day that goes by that I am not asking myself this question. I have, I think come to a decision on it. My children’s books: the audience is fairly obvious. Children. I really write them for my daughter (and now my grandson). Which is why I believe that the third bedtime stories will be mid grade. The first two were stories written for her when she was small. The third started for a preteen. (And now she is helping me write it. She was suggesting ideas for the story and is looking forward to hear it when it is done. She refused me reading it until then.) But I write more than just children’s books.
My poetry I have always written for me. So do I really have an audience for it? Yes, and no. It is always going to be how I cope with the world… It is more that then it is written for a particular audience. That being said, the reason why I published it is because my coping mechanisms can possibly help someone else who may be in a bad place. Or not, I am not sure it matters there. My poetry is the clearest view inside of my soul. To tell the truth I publish it because I can. I have lost so much of my poetry over the years… This is the way of preserving it digitally so I will not lose anymore.
Last but not least, there is Serena’s stories. Anything that I write that is adult in nature will be published under Serena Mossgraves. Currently that seems to be horror. I am not sure if it all will be… I just know that I will not be doing erotica… It embarrasses me to write it. So I figure her audience will be adults, preferably who enjoy what I write.
All seems simple enough. I only hope that I am able to create a story that someone likes.