I know I only end up doing like 8-10 days….every year…but its fun to try. I can’t find the proper Drawtober prompts so I am using Inktober’s prompts – but I won’t use that hashtag due to issues on it. And next month it will be the PAD Challenge…
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.
So my daughter and I were talking. I told her I was happy that she was comfortable enough when the kitchen flooded to cuss at me. To me that feels like she was able to express herself without worrying that I would be angry about it. I am big on self expression, which should surprise no one. She said that her therapist encouraged her to use whatever language she felt the need to express the thoughts in her head. *This is where I should note that we really don’t know any other language except American English. We know a few smattering of words in other languages, but not enough to be a fluency of it’s own…but swearing…well…yeah We swear like sailors around here. She mentioned that my mom had said that swearing shows a lack of intelligence. I so completely disagree. I think that it often is looked down upon, but there are times when a good creative swear (note I said creative) shows more intelligence than not. And not always does the swear have to be dirty. One of my favorites is a foreign (for me) word that means shame on you.
I have tried to make my home a place that my kids can call to express anything. I don’t judge them for speaking their minds. They can literally tell me anything. I am their safe space. For me that is what home should be. It is not what all of us had.
The last couple of days have been a whirling shitshow. I am completely out of my routine. Today I am dealing with an enormous amount of laundry…and the various dishes that are actually normal for my house. I am squeezing in doctors appointments and errands. I somehow want to attempt to write today. I am an ambitious soul after all. The end of the month is coming quite quickly, and I have two anthologies and an indie author publishing in October.
I am already preparing for kid’s week – The first week in December. We have books planned by A.R. Clayton, D.W. Storer, C.M. Snow, Raz T. Slasher, and 2 by me. (One picture book and one middle grade). I feel like It is going to be a good offering this year. The first Call is out for the spring anthology. And I have submitted a poem and a flash piece of Serena’s to various places. Some things are just falling into place. I will let you know as I hear about the submissions and the results there.
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.
Reguardless of the reason why the conversation happened, I was struggling with imposter syndrome. It irritated my boyfriend. So he proceeded to point out that Mark Twain was not a college graduate. I smiled at him and started listing the authors that had a college degree. Unfortunately most of them we not known during their own lifetime. It got me to think…
What will be history’s thoughts on me? Will I be relagated to some dusty shelf for books that no one reads? Or will I be someone’s favorite author?
I got up early today and got in a big hurry… because I was scheduled to get the tires replaced on my jeep. So I am sitting in Walmart waiting for the mechanic. Now that is not worth writing about… even if it is an annoying thing for me. Though I suppose that anything can be a writing prompt at the right time… No, the reason why I decided to go into the writing mode… the email that reminded me of the appointment. It said that I was supposed to be on time – 7 am on a Sunday, and if I wasn’t there within 15 minutes then they would give my slot away. There was no one in the tire center until 12 after 7. So I am running around with anxiety…omg I will be late…of course I am 15 minutes early because I always am – thank you anxiety. Only to be made to wait wondering if anyone is going to be here for twelve extra minutes.
why do places do that? Doctors offices do it too. Don’t be late! Do they just like adding a layer of anxiety?
Pattimouse 