This is the hard time for me to keep up with my blog. So I apologize. Between sick, which seems to be a yearly thing, and birthdays… February and March are busy months for me. I am also working out the details for publishing another poetry volume (Soul Door), a novel as Serena (Rust, Gore, And the Junkyard Zombie) and I have a poem that I submitted to a new E-zine (Creatives Rising)
that is releasing soon. I am also still writing more poetry and the next novel. I will be updating this blog as I can, and I promise that I will post a couple more poems here by the end of the week. Still, Please have patience with my erratic updates.
So my Sister Redbird and I are doing a secondary Blog, We attempted this before…but it fell apart due to various factors. So we fixed those and are trying again. It is a blog to discuss ways of improving one’s outlook on life. Faeries, recipes, DIY and more… go check us out.
I remember as a kid roaming on Halloween to decorated houses asking for candy. Mom didn’t have to walk with because I stayed in my neighborhood. I had the other kids to walk with me. When I grew too old to trick or treat Mom threw a halloween party.
I look around now at the neighborhoods, and find I am sad. Not many decorate anymore. When my teen was of the age to go we did trunk or treats because it felt safer. The one time we did the trick or treat in the neighborhood thing I was scared by a guy giving out funky shelled boiled eggs.
Now that she is too old for the trick or treat thing I find myself looking at what traditions I want for the holiday from now forward. We decided this year to do a horror/halloween movie marathon. I want to move away from Candy focused activities. To me it seems like so much of Halloween has vanished and I am at a loss as to how to fix it.
What traditions do you have, and why?
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
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.