Three Important Things No Writer Should be Without

Dear Mama

Dear Mama,

I love you. All that I have ever wanted was to feel like you were proud of me.  I tried to be who you wanted.  I found that didn’t work. Then I tried being myself.  I found that I was happier,  but you still were not proud of me.  Mama I am fourty one,  and I have succeeded.  I am published.  I am usually a happy soul.  Yet when I fall,  and I do occasionally fall.  It is your voice in my ear,  telling me you expected it all along.  When I get rejected for my poetry, (as rejections are normal for the writer to recieve) that everyone else would tell me I wrote so well?  I hear you telling me that you didn’t want to hear it because of how depressing it was.

Mama,  I have published five volumes of poetry,  three children’s books,  and a novella.  You know that family have hardly even acted like it mattered?  I am doing what I told you I wanted to do at nine.  I am a writer. So I may never be a  novelist,  children’s books still need written. I have never asked for much.  Just a hey,  that is awesome.  Or even… Uh sharing it on social media that you have a daughter who is printed.  So I put space between us.  I admit that I was tired of feeling like you just didn’t care. I deserve to be someone who is cared about. I’m sorry that I was never the daughter you wanted,  but Mama,  I have always just been me.

Love always,

Your daughter.

Addressing F.E.A.R.

Dr. Angela Kowitz Orobko's avatarHearts That Care

ako-blog-oct31_fearGood things come to those who believe. Better things come to those who wait, and the best things come to those who never give up and NEVER give into their fears. ~ Dr. Angi

Spiders, snakes and bats, oh my!
What do you fear most and why?

What truly scares you the most in your life? What is that “creature” hiding in your inner closet (your heart) that is preventing you from moving to the next level of success in your life? Most of us fear intangible things, like being on stage, doing something new, getting your heart broken, having your feelings hurt, and failure. Dr. Wayne Dyer referred to fear as an acronym for False Evidence Appearing Real (from his book Inspiration: Your Ultimate Calling, p. 239). Intangibles are not going to kill us; therefore, fear in this case does not prevent death. It prevents life!

The best thing we can do…

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Therapy

Not everyone is healed by medicine,  not everyone is healed by therapy.  Don’t get me wrong,  it can do a great deal.  Still it is alot like an addiction,  being mentally ill. Unless you are ready to heal,  all therapy will do is give you someone else to depend on. Someone else to expect judgement from.  This is often more detrimental to self esteem than helpful.  I have been seeing a therapist since I was nine years old.  For me it was just something that I had to do.  I have had some good ones,  ones who could make me see them as human.  I’ve had a few who abused my trust.  To tell the truth,  I have done more towards healing when I was not seeing one.  I used to dissociate.  For the ignorant among my readers,  the term Dissociate is technical jargon for saying that I was multiple personalities.  Twenty years ago I was a true mess.  Nearly twelve personalities that we knew of.  I was never sure where I would wake up,  and how much time would have passed.  One of my personalities was cutting. As stated,  I was not in a good place.  When I was in control,  I was having nightly nightmares. I was terrified of being put in a hospital. Mostly because I figured I  would not be let free. I am extremely claustrophobic. When I was little,  I was molested. I finally got the courage and told him that if he came near me again I would scream.  Well I guess he believed me… But he did decide to put one last scare to keep me from talking.  He locked me in the trunk of his car and told me I would die there.  I am not sure how long I was in there.  But I was there long enough to scare me.  I was nine.  It took me four years to gain enough courage to speak.  He said that I would never be believed.  Damn him for being right.  I was told that I was insane.  I showed all the symptoms of a abused child.  So much so that I was put in therapy.  I was put on medicine… But I speak up… And I am insane.  Fine.  I am fourty one.  I am finally one,  not many.  And I am insane.  He raped me at five.  He raped me until I was strong enough to say no. Then he raped my mind for the majority of my life. And if I had been believed he wouldn’t have been able to rape the girls after me.  He wouldn’t have been free. He is in jail,  but I check on occasion.  I am fourty one and I am scared of a small man who ruined my life.  I am not sure I will ever not be. Ask my family… I am a depressing poet who has always been crazy.  Oh wait,  many of them (not all)  will not even Acknowledge that I write. I embarass them. After all,  I was telling the truth.  I don’t lie,  because thanks to the dissociation,  I often have a hard time remembering things.  So why lie if I will only be caught. I am not crazy.  I need no therapist to hear me.  I am whole.  I have good coping mechanisms. And I will not hide who I have become for anyone!

Speak your own truth.  No matter what anyone else thinks of it.

Breaking the Legacy of Silence # 20 A Handful of Quietness | Kim Bailey Deal

Well written and thought provoking.

Kim D. Bailey's avatarKim D. Bailey

http://five2onemagazine.com/breaking-legacy-silence-20-handful-quietness-kim-bailey-deal/

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Don’t believe everything you think.

Dr. Angela Kowitz Orobko's avatarHearts That Care

JUNE22_dont_believe_everything_you_think

My thoughts are usually positive, but occasionally I do entertain doubt, which could lead to dismay. This only becomes an issue if I start BELIEVING my doubts. The best thing for me to remember to do is NOT to believe everything I think. So, I have made this reminder, DON’T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU THINK, into an art journal page (a work in progress) and a coloring sheet to share with you. Please feel free to download, print, and color today’s image as a way to absorb this bit of wisdom into your life: Don’t believe everything you think.

All rights reserved. ©2016 by A. K. Orobko

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Tired ramblings

Last night was not a good one.  I doubt that I slept even a full hour.  Every time I would try it would be falling into yet another nightmare. I have had them all of my life,  as far back as I remember. I rarely remember them,  only wake feeling afraid and small.

So I have been sleep deprived and shaky… Not a good combo. Well it has had me trying to gather all of the random thoughts swimming in my head. Quite unsuccessfully I should add.  So much so that I have decided to post some here to help my mind to relax.  And that it is a glimpse for you of my chaos?  Bonus.

1. I miss my grandmother,  well both of them.  But mostly my maternal grandmother.  I have been trying to learn to crochet.  And she was amazing at it.  She was just plain amazing,  but it is the crochet that is bringing her to mind this time.

2. Samhain.  Yes I am pagan.  And this is a time for family.

3. I am very likely not going to end up with the death of neverland as anything but a novella.  The halfway point is 5000 words.  So I find myself wondering if I am trying to exceed my reach.  I am a  poet.  I am a children’s author. I apparently can do short stories (aka novella). But can I do a novel?

3 i really am enjoying doing the art thing.  If you are curious about how my art is… Myne drawings album is public on my personal Facebook (Patti Harris).  Go ahead,  look!  I would love new input.

4. My daughter is starting to get into create music.  I really want to encourage that.

5. Yule.  I have a idea for a few of the people on my list.  Not that my list is big. I am not able to afford much for even those.

6. Butt coasters.  A friend of mine on Facebook is doing novelty crocheted coasters (www.facebook.com/nothingbuttcoasters/) and I am so tickled by the pug ones… (Thinking about them for one of my list…

7 money.  Always a issue.

8. After the first of the year,  do I want to do another bedtime tales?

9. Zombie castaways.  Android game..  The villa (a building to make needed items in the game)  if you combine love and rubber… You get bedsheets….

10. I really want a small crockpot for the truck.  I wonder if I can pull it off this month.

11.whether I should do a blog post about religion.  Or poets that I love and why….

12 my sister’s faeries.  I feel like I should help more than I do…

So much rambling.  I am heading to bed soon.  I hope that I sleep better tonight.

What is writing?

So I am a published writer. I have just recently published my third children’s book.  I have published several volumes of poetry,  and a novella.  I write this blog and contribute regularly to another. After all of that,  sometimes I feel doubtful that I should claim that I am a writer. I do not have a novel,  and the current story that I am working on… Well I am likely doing a novella again. I am at five thousand words… And I realized that I am about half done. So should I stop calling myself a writer?  NO, because I am still writing.  I will likely have a new volume of poetry to release early in 2017. I will still finish the death of neverland.  I may never write a “Full” novel,  but I wonder if that really is that big of a deal.

So what is writing?  Writing is taking one’s heart and pulling it out through the fingertips.  Writing is creating a tender spot on your own soul,  and exposing it to the world. Writing is late nights,  sore fingers and crying yourself dry. Writing is the feeling of accomplishment of a job well done. Writing is all the tortures of Hell and all the pleasures of heaven. And in the end… Writing is an obsession stronger than any.

#amwriting #always

 

Normalcy 

I am obviously by no standards normal. I am a creative soul who is often forgetful and messy. I am anxious and freak out over the strangest things.  I have a poor self image,  so I often fail to accept compliments. Not because I don’t want them but because I think I am being made fun of. My brain and mouth rarely work together, so i have no filter and often make no sense.  I love deeply and quickly,  often the wrong people. I am often slightly crazy. I honestly see the worst in me.  Social situations end me up saying the wrong thińg because it seemed right to to me. So I end up the sad lonely girl in the corner. So I am slightly anti-social. I am crafty,  i write,  i draw.  I even sometimes do those things well. I have children.  My youngest is a fairly well behaved child who fairly much like me. She is not social.  I have tried to expose her to a variety of social options… She sees the cruelty of others and is unimpressed. She is mature for twelve. Should I force her to be something she is not?  So I have to consider what is normal? Really is it something different for each person?    And if it is what does that say for the ones who look at me because I am different and say it is wrong? 

I survived 

It seems as though I am running still

Trying to fight such a long gone foe,

That sometimes today is a haze.

I survived.
Shouldn’t it make me stronger?

So why do I feel so weak?

I survived.
So when can I rest?

When will it finally be over for me?

It seems as though 

I am running still

From memories of so very long ago,

That it takes over me.

I survived.
What did I lose to be who I am?

Was it worth it?

I survived.
Can I ever escape those memories?

Should I try?

It seems as though 

I am running still

Just to escape things from before,

And I wonder if I ever will.

I survived.
Shattered and broken,

Afraid and uneasy.

I survived.
So how do I survive yet another day?