Category: emotional exploration

Time to begin again

Let me preface this by saying that I don’t know what I am changing yet…if anything. I am entering a little bit of a restructuring of my own life and social media. I still plan on being here. I am still me. However, I recently broke ties to a friend of over a decade. This has been coming for the past year. It should surprise no one.

I don’t know if I have anything to change, however a decade of shared speces and shared faces means that I at the very least have to consider the change… and the backlash it will have on the people around me. Though I share easily my life here, I don’t feel like I should be pointing fingers at others and writing their sins. What is toxic to me may not be to them. We can each only tell our own truth… whatever that may be.

I do post on social media vague rants and those who are close to me can figure it out…but I don’t point fingers. I don’t feel like it is my place to call someone out. It is my place to try and work through my own emotions and my reaction to the situation. Hence why I vague post. They are my way to work through the issue. Comments end up helping me to see if I am way out in left field or missing something.

Right now I am feeling grief. I am processing it. I am pulling myself away from the shared spaces. I am also refusing to allow my grief to stop the forward motion of Fae Corps. She requested that her books be pulled. She has decided to cut the ties completely. I think that is probably the best idea, as I will continue to get hurt otherwise. She left me feeling like I am hard to love, and hard to get along with. That is my responsibility to deal with.

I am back to dealing with this blog and the Fae Corps blog. I spent all day Sunday getting it dealt with, and I am determined to keep my blog from falling behind. Maybe I will have an easier time doing so with my mind not distracted by the issues I was facing.

My voice

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Recently, I had someone give me unsolicited feedback. Now I am over that…but the reaction to my emotions afterwards…I have spent some time on. I was HURT…Like ready to delete the art program off of my computer hurt. I worked through that, because you know that is my responsibility – to deal with the emotions and the reasons why I feel them. I did not take it out on the person other than to tell them that they hurt me and that I did not appreciate the unsolicited feedback. That night I recorded a video rant on tiktok, Not naming or pointing any fingers to anyone. Not even being angry. I left it in my drafts folder overnight. Unsure if I would post it. Because the initial reaction to my hurt was her doing the OK like I had no business being hurt. She had immediately said sorry in a hey now I need to make you shut up kind of way. and then when I tried to explain my hurt she kept saying Ok…

Now I realize that I am nowhere near perfect. My voice has been stolen too often, So I guard it, I guard my ability to control my ability to express my self. No one can take those things from me. I have very distinct boundaries because of this. Well the next day I had worked through most of the hurt. I was able to see it for what it was and not do something that I felt would be foolish. I watched the video I had made and decided it was not me doing nothing but lashing out in hurt. I decided that it was a fair video and good content. Something that I often have issues posting, everywhere. So I posted it. The person decides that means I am still mad and starts sending me WTF messages. I told her I was never mad, only hurt. She blows that off as it is the same thing for me.

I am now questioning myself and everyone I know and love to be sure that my anger and my hurt are not manifesting the same way. They are not, but as this person mostly deals with me via social media she would not know the difference. I consider this person my best friend…some days my only friend. So I am devastated that she really doesn’t know me. I end up with the last things she says in the conversation bouncing around in my head all damn night. I am not going to put the exact things in here…but it is the same thing that always comes up when I enforce a boundary. ‘Well I did not realize that you expected that of me!’ Why would a boundary not apply to you? Because you are my closest friend? It seems that would mean I would not have to enforce the boundary because as my closest friend you would understand the damn reason for it.

I recently heard that the boundaries someone has a problem with are the limits to their respects for you. Now I wonder if I am mourning a friendship. I am wondering if I even had a friend, or was there only to make her feel better. I hate that. I love her. Still. That is the worst of this. I don’t halfway give my heart to anyone. I still love everyone I ever have…even if I can’t stand who they have become.

*Edit to note I don’t yet know if I am mourning our friendship. Time is the only answer for that. I sent my thoughts via email and am awaiting a reply.

Middle of the night floods, epiphanies, and dinosaurs

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I was going to do the usual poetry update today…but my kitchen sink busted last night…well a piece of it did. We have a hose attachment that allows us directly to use water (my dishwasher is a portable) and the hose busted. It is not going to be an expensive fix. Just was a panic at 2 in the morning because of the flooded kitchen. It got me thinking, much as most incidents like that do.

My daughter was the one who had found the flooded kitchen, and bless her she immediately went to work cleaning up the mess. She sent me messages to wake me up. She was comfortable enough to curse at me for not answering the phone (I was actually in a deep sleep for a change). I wonder if I would have ever been so with my mom.

We had a conversation while we were stuck at Walmart about what our favorite dinosaur was (hers is a Saurolophus, mine has always been a triceratops) and I adore the little things that I can get to share with her. (The dinosaur conversation was initiated due to a figit toy she had in her purse. A club tailed dino filled with sand that can be manipulated various ways.)

I don’t remember ever being comfortable enough talking to my mom about anything. My doctor finds my mom and I to be a funny topic. I told her (doctor) that My mom still is blaming me for a virus I had as a teenager. I had infantigo when I was around 11 or 12. Mom is still convinced that I caused it by picking at it. And even though I am in my late 40’s brought it up as I was going to cause myself to get it again. The doctor thinks it’s funny. It is a bit of the epiphany for me.

I always expect my daughter to be amazing. Even if she has a bad day, she is going to be amazing. Nothing can change my mind on that. My mom expects the worst about me. She always has, always will… and I have to stop letting her voice color my self view I have spent 47 years trying to be good enough for a woman who is never going to see me as adequate. Time to change my aim.

Justice doesn’t always come

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I last saw the man who has lived in my nightmares at around 9 or 10 years old. Still, he has made my life miserable not because he was actively in it, but because of what he did and the fact that when I finally got the courage to tell anyone… well they did not believe me. He said that they would not. So if he was right about that, what about the other things that he said? Was it all really my fault?

Biden just signed a Bill…I am so happy for it…it takes away the limit for how long you have to take your abuser to court. How long you have to get the world to see them for the piece of shit that they are… for some people that is a miracle.

For some of us…there is no justice.

I am not saying that just because he is dead. My abuser committed suicide just a few years ago…Don’t expect me to mourn him.

No, I am saying that because I can’t go back and get my family to see the truth. I will never be able to look at my self and think I am not deserving of the way that I was treated… why? Because I obviously missed something. Something that he saw.

My mom doesn’t understand. She asked me if she ever actually said that she didn’t believe me… no not in those words. She said that I must have been remembering it wrong. That I didn’t have the dates exactly right. Okay…I was supposed to handle the memories better. I see. I was supposed to get over it… because that is what you do right?

No, Justice doesn’t always come. But the Bill that Biden signed is a huge step in the right direction.

Hush, Hush

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Some days it is harder than others to feel like I have a voice.

A lot of the reason I do the publishing thing is because I have had my voice stolen too often. I want to help others find their voice. Sounds kinda cheesy I realize…but it is the truth. I strive to make absolutely sure that when I edit I do so in a way that never changes the author’s voice…while still addressing readability and grammar. I realize that might not be important to some…but to me that voice is often what makes the story.

I know others feel like they are a burden, like I do. For me though it is harder to fight that because I spent much of my childhood not being heard. I have spent a good bit of my adult life the same way.

Let me explain.

Have you ever walked into a doctor’s office and told them your symptoms only to have them yell at you for not taking medicine for a disease you did not yet know you had? or have you gone in and said I am having trouble and get diagnosed with something with no test or diagnostic process simply because the doctor was overworked and you were in his office like the hundreds before you that day? Oh, and then there were the doctors who were quick to blame all of my issues on my size. Yeah. I have had really bad luck with doctors.

Perhaps that is why I avoid going until I have no choice.

Still it is not just doctors that it feels like I am ignored by. Though I understand that I am not the only person in anyone’s life…there are days when I will speak and get the response of *Sigh* What? – Which makes me want to pull away. Because that response only hurts. I understand if you are busy. Say…Hey I am busy, can I get back to you? And I will get it. But to say it like that…

It silences me. And makes my inner voice into a scream.

I feel like eventually I will never speak again, but that voice…the one inside that never shuts up…the one that says how horrible I am and that no one likes me…That will be so loud that everyone outside will hear it.

Then who will I be?

So, today….I am going to be quiet, because that voice is too loud and my voice is too small. I hope that none of you ever are hushed.

The Existential Question

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So I have been busy working on publishing tasks yesterday, Well that for me included dealing with the dreaded Goodreads Now admittedly I don’t do everything I need to with it, because every time I go there it is the same thing. I can’t claim all of my books on there. Not even the ones all written as me. The reason – My name is too common. I should be able to give the information about the book and claim it…but no. It is based on the name of the author. I am debating doing a rebranding. Adding my grandmother’s maiden name in as my middle name (I tried my middle name to start with…it is even more common.) Still I wonder how much I should rebrand? Should I just start from here? or go back and rebrand from the beginning? There is a lot involved. I just don’t know if Goodreads is worth the effort. I have my amazon author page. I have my books2read reading list. Does anyone other than authors even really use Goodreads?

Though I have to say that I am annoyed by how common my name is. Names have always been a fun thing for me. I wanted to write as Susan Ann Andrews when I was a girl. I really thought it was the prettiest name out there. I chose to write my poetry and my kid’s books under my name because I wanted to love my name again. I wanted it to be mine again. It was part of healing the abuse I had been through. I chose to do the pen name of Serena Mossgraves for my horror and darker stuff so that my kid’s books would not be tainted by those writings. So I am struggling now. Do I really want to rebrand simply because of how common my name is? Or do I stick with who I am? This really feels like I am facing an existential crisis. Do I change my persona for the idea that I am not fitting in? Or am I fitting in too well? Oh crud. I really don’t know what to do here.

Yesterday I was sure that I needed to change the branding. Today, I wake up and find in my email in response to my help request…OK we merged this and this….I look on goodreads…now one of Serena’s books is listed as Patricia. And still not even half of my books are listed as me. I still can’t claim them. Changing my brand will mean I have to go and fight them for the right to the listing all over again. In order to change it I need to go into KDP and D2D and Google Play and Barnes and Noble. Change The Details on each. I need to upload a changed cover for each. Then I need to hope that I have not screwed something up. For one or two books it is not that difficult…but I have a catalogue of around 30+ It is a hugely daunting task. OK… I can change my branding from here on out…but the whole reason I wanted to do it was because of Goodreads not letting me accept my books…if I change my brand it will throw them into a worse fit.

I think I need to think on this. I am going to do nothing about it until after the first of the year at the least. That way I can be sure I am still needing to adjust and I don’t feel like I rushed in for stupid reasons.

Late Again

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I sometimes feel like Alice… the rabbit hurrying me for fear of being late. Admitted, I expected to be late for today. I was not in the mind space for blogging last night. To tell you the truth I am not quite there yet today. I survived the MRI. Though I was scared to death of it. This week I am going to be late if I post anything. I hate doing that but it has been a crazy week and it is only a Monday. I guarantee that I am not going to be able to do my blogging usual, but hopefully what I do post will be worth reading.

So, hurry hurry and let us see… what exactly the rabbit has in store for you and me.

Words, words, everywhere and not a thought to think

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I am five poems away from finishing The volume Handprints on my soul…and I am struggling with my writing…Not because I am unable – obviously. I just have too many topics and too many thoughts… so many that I have been fighting Insomnia. The end of a volume is always an anxious time for me. It is when I question my writing. It is when I question my motives. It is when I question my value…

Yesterday I answered a poem with a poem. The first poem was written by someone I love very much. A child I had given up at birth because I felt myself in a poor position to care for them. The child is now grown and I am amazed by the similarity they have to me. Also a talented poet, they posted one to their Facebook page. I have in the past found it fun to respond to poets with poetry…A slightly odd behavior perhaps but I find it a fun challenge. (I have been specifically responding to haikus written by my friend, on his Facebook feed In haiku because I find the syllable count to be challenging.) So I did not think twice to do the same with my child. Their reaction surprised me.

They said that they would never be as good as I am. I responded that they already were. In some ways that is such a lie. I see their poetry as better than my own. I see everyone who writes as better than my own. I am incredibly biased. I will never stop seeing the flaws in what I write. Though I imagine that most authors do the same. The problem is though I have some days where my writing is brilliance…I also have the days where putting more than one word on paper feels impossible.

I have days that I feel like I am too insane to be allowed to speak – much less use my voice to put something into this world that will be around for an indeterminate amount of time. (That is what writing is you realize? Passing your thoughts into the hazy future for the random person to read.) And I end up feeding the darkness of those days with my own self doubt and anxiety. That is why I refuse to be jealous of other writers or artists. Why I just judge my work and no one elses (unless I am editing their work which is when I am trying to help them get it to a state of technical perfection…) I shy away from people who cannot understand that I do not require judgement or want to be around jealousy. Those things make me harder on me. Instead I need honesty and just simply to be accepted for who I am.

Today I am a poet. I am strange and I am quiet. I am introvert. I am a writer. I am an explorer. Who are you?

Ps I also seem to update the blog more at the end of a volume…mostly because as I stated…This is when I am questioning myself more so I end up coming here with the random thoughts of am I good enough…knowing that I will never hear the answer I am needing to here.

Thursday Talk

Ever want to just scream? Or throw everything in the garbage and just say the first idiot thing that comes to mind? Yeah that has been me lately. I Don’t wanna be that girl who is always there for everyone. Hell Really I am NOT that girl but I am not that boy either. To be flat out honest I am not ever even sure what I am. I am not anything that I can put a label on. I tried to talk to my therapist about it…Only to find out the words I did use to describe myself were not good. (Weird is apparently hateful)

So I am the lonely introvert who pushes everyone away. I don’t fit anywhere. I don’t know if I mind that so much…though it adds to that feeling of not having anyone who sees me. Don’t get me wrong – I have a best friend…who I feel like I am burdening because I have no way of talking to with out complaining. It doesn’t help that I am high functioning in my anxiety. So I take on more than I can do…and then refuse to ask for help. She wants to help and I end up doing what I do ask her to do because my brain tells me I am asking too much.

My damaged soul is just enough that I can see the problems I put out into the world, but I cannot seem to help myself from pushing away those who try to accept them. I normally avoid talking about the mess that I am because I am trying to put forth an image of competence and professional nature…but as I said Lately I am wanting to say the first idiot thing that comes to mind. Instead…I think I will say thank you all for your patience with me and my lackluster blogging of late.

I am hoping after the MRI on Monday I will be in a better headspace. I am hoping to get back to our regularly scheduled half mad idiocy.

Imposter in the house

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I recently joined a few writing discord channels. There was an article shared. It spoke about Vanity presses, small presses, and indie presses. It advised the author to avoid all three. I will link to the article…as it was an interesting read. It gave me a bit of an issue, however…as I run a small press. It spoke in the article about checking the education of those running the press…I am not classically educated. I could not afford college. I learned via free classes and reading everything I could get my hands on.

Soooo this article made me wonder when the writers in that discord would call me out for the imposter I know myself to be. I have been publishing for a decade…and I am still learning. I don’t do everything perfectly. No human does. I, personally, advise you to use common sense. Does the small press expect you to do everything? Are they asking for money upfront? If you have to pay to get your book published then yeah they are likely not legit.

However, not everyone can afford to go to college. Those who go do not always know what they are doing, and those who cannot sometimes do have knowledge. Sometimes you have to ask questions and make choices that are not based on how many degrees are hanging on someone’s wall.