So yesterday I was a busy blogger. I really should be more regular in my posts…. But I am not good at regular. Now that I have the app on my phone it is more likely. I am a creature of convenience. I try to improve my actions, I try to get into the habits that I want to have. Still routine is not easy for me. My life is very chaotic. I warned you with the tagline… Lol. Crazy rarely is predictable. Still, when trying to deal with a blog, and selling what I wrote, I am aware that if there is no updates then I will have no readers. So I will attempt to do better. If nothing else, I will try to share some of the awesome blogs that I read.
Those who know me know I am a very outspoken person. I try to be as honest as possible. Mostly because my memory is awful, i really would forget the lie. Easiest way to end up caught. There are topics I voice that I know make some uncomfortable. I refuse to be silenced because what I have to say makes any one feel bad. I was told I was lying when i first spoke my truth. Others suffered because of this. I was sexually abused. I was terrified of my abuser doing exactly what he threatened to do. So it took time after to speak. He told me no one would believe me. They proved him right. I was thirteen years old when I finally found the courage. So he was allowed to continue his life, and I was thought insane. He did to others what was done to me. They were heard and believed. He has been in jail for about six years now.
I speak now to take back my power.
I speak now because I believe the truth should be heard.
I speak now for those who may find comfort in my story.
I speak now because I survived.
I speak now because no one should feel insane for telling their story.
I speak now so that my abuser and those like him never win.
Vacation seems like it should be a bad time to write. It’s work, right? Still for me, at home I find it harder to actually set the time aside for writing. Too much else to do. So much household chores that never seem to be done. Too many distractions, social media and other entertainment options. I realize I should be more disciplined about my writing, but if I structure too much, my muse will abandon me. I have spent two hours today writing. Cleaning up my projects helped. I backed up a couple of projects that really aren’t working, and cleared them from my writing app. I rewrote two pages that were lost in a save mishap. I wrote more on a couple of my works in progress. I wrote another poem for Life Drops. I am also of course writing this blog post. Still. I am doing so much better on my vacation with my writing than I do normally. I have no internet to distract. No housework to distract. I only have my kindle and my family. I am hoping that I can publish the second book in the Bedtime tales series before summer ends. I am aiming to finish one of the other books (full novels) before my 45th birthday. That gives me a little over three and a half years. 🙂
I am a poet first and a writer second. I just do better with poetry than I do with stories. I am not bad at stories, just better with poems. Now there is a reason I state that. My daughter came home and was asking about poetry. She has no patience with writing stories. So I was helping her with her poetry for English class. At this point I was tickled to find out that she enjoys writing poetry. Mind you I have had three children. My eldest has written one beautiful poem. Then he allowed his own self doubt to keep him from writing. My middle one (who due to situations I refuse to explain here was given up for adoption at birth ) writes wonderful poetry. I am so tickled that the three of them have shown such talent. It actually got me thinking. What do we pass on in our genetics? My children are all taller than I. None of them look exactly like me. My daughter looks the closest. There is personality traits that all of them possess that I have. So that leaves me curious. What do you think we pass on in our genetics?
Hmmm something I miss… cartoons. Saturday mornings with cereal and early morning cartoons. The cartoons of today really are subpar. I have tried to introduce my daughter to the cartoons of my childhood, but to be honest, it really saddens me that cartoons are no longer like that.
It really is the little things that hurt…and heal. Seeing affection and pride felt by those whom you wish were proud of you. Or who paid enough attention to see who you really were. So I end up feeling the little green eyed monster creep in. And then I self recriminate because I see myself as better than that. I don’t do my writing or my crafts or my art for the recognition. I really don’t. I do all of it for me. However, the primal urge for recognition exists in everyone. Then along with the self doubt, a few someone’s stood up for me. It heals the little cracks in my soul.