It's Friday and that means it's time for the linkup at the Five Minute Friday blog! Since the last time I linked up with the FMF community, Kate has moved things from her personal blog to a new space that is totally dedicated to FMF. Go check it out! This week's prompt word is....
Friends, it is June. More to the point, it's almost the middle of June. I have been so inundated with the stuff of life lately that I just haven't had the time or mental energy to write in this blog. I don't know why I can't seem to make myself do it. I guess I've gotten out of the habit (not that it was such a firm habit to begin with!). I start posts and then don't finish them. I just looked and I literally have over 100 posts that are drafts. They're just sitting there, waiting for me to do something with them. I don't know what I'm expecting. It's not like they're going to finish themselves or edit themselves. Some of them aren't actually too bad.
Several months back we actually had this prompt word and I had a pretty decent post going with it. I had actually finished it, but it was long and seemed really disjointed to me, so onto the scrap heap it went! Looking back over it, I can see now where it can be cut and not lose meaning or impact. That's what I feel like I'm always chasing. I write so many words and so often, I'm scared of cutting things. I'm scared of just writing without editing too. I don't know what I expect the reaction of others to be to my verbose ramblings. Maybe they'll think I'm crazy. Maybe they'll think I talk too much. Maybe they'll think that I need to just stop writing altogether because I really really suck at it. These are the voices in my head that keep me from writing a lot of the time.
Even when I do write something that feels like it's pretty good, I wind up getting scared to publish it. I've felt this way from the beginnings of this blog and I don't know how to conquer these feelings. I don't know how to change this. I think it's because I expect my writing, my blog, and all of it to be as good and polished and lovely to look at as my fellow bloggers. The thing is, I don't really like polished and pretty all the time because it's not who I am. But polished and pretty gets people to read and to comment.
Baring your soul, talking about uncomfortable things like mental illness, and trying to write in such a way that causes people to think seems to be met with silence and indifference. It makes me wonder who is reading and if they care. Then I wonder why I care so much about that. I try not to care, but here I am, caring again. Here I am second guessing myself. Here I am wondering if when you finish reading this, you will forget this as soon as your eyes hit the last word. Here I am wondering if what I have to say about anything is worth sharing with the world. These thoughts and wonderings and fears are what keep me from writing. I don't want to expect anything of this, but I am only human and we human beings are messy, complicated, and complex that way.
I don't even know if any of this makes any sense to anyone but me or if I should expect it to make sense. I just know that I feel compelled to return to this space and write. I just don't know if I ought to expect anyone to read it.
Showing posts with label words. Show all posts
Showing posts with label words. Show all posts
Friday, June 9, 2017
Thursday, March 10, 2016
A Little Housekeeping
Hi friends! Just wanted to give you a quick heads up that while I'm going to be continuing to talk about mental health and fandoms and the like, over the next few months, I am going to be doing quite a few entries on faith. This isn't a promotion or a series (although it may wind up looking like one), but just to let you know that I'm veering a little bit more toward talking some about faith.
The reason I'm telling y'all this is that I need some accountability. As usual, I spent over an hour in the presence of Jesus in the tabernacle after my meeting with Fr. B this week. I spent it offering prayers for many people I know who have needs, praying for healing for me, and just being silent before His Majesty. When I pray like this, I find that I get little gentle nudges from the Holy Spirit throughout my prayer time directing me how to pray. It's like I'm somehow a bit more open to His leading in the quiet of the church. One of the things that I have felt led to do many times is lie prostrate as I'm praying.
Yesterday was one of those days when I felt led to lie prostrate and pray. As I was praying, the words of the prophet Samuel "Speak Lord, for your servant is listening" went through my head and so I offered that up as a prayer and then lay silent, listening and waiting to see if the Holy Spirit would nudge me or speak to me in some way. And so He did. I don't hear audible words, but the nudge of the Holy Spirit was very, very clear and very very strong. What I felt Him commanding me to do is to meditate on the Psalms each day. Start at the beginning and read one each day. I agreed readily enough and then there was another strong nudge. Write about it each day and put it in the blog. I agreed, although with some trepidation. Still, I agreed, so here I am, about to start.
Would y'all help keep me accountable? This is a big task and I'm, quite honestly, a bit scared. I feel like this is a LOT that is being asked of me, but I've never refused the Holy Spirit and I'm not about to start now. I know for a fact that obedience to His nudges always winds up with me reaping some good from it, so it's to my benefit to be obedient. Please pray for me. I need prayers not only for the task ahead, but also for the strength to persevere. I know He wouldn't have asked this of me if I was unable to do it, but this isn't going to be easy.
Thanks everyone! God bless you!
The reason I'm telling y'all this is that I need some accountability. As usual, I spent over an hour in the presence of Jesus in the tabernacle after my meeting with Fr. B this week. I spent it offering prayers for many people I know who have needs, praying for healing for me, and just being silent before His Majesty. When I pray like this, I find that I get little gentle nudges from the Holy Spirit throughout my prayer time directing me how to pray. It's like I'm somehow a bit more open to His leading in the quiet of the church. One of the things that I have felt led to do many times is lie prostrate as I'm praying.
Yesterday was one of those days when I felt led to lie prostrate and pray. As I was praying, the words of the prophet Samuel "Speak Lord, for your servant is listening" went through my head and so I offered that up as a prayer and then lay silent, listening and waiting to see if the Holy Spirit would nudge me or speak to me in some way. And so He did. I don't hear audible words, but the nudge of the Holy Spirit was very, very clear and very very strong. What I felt Him commanding me to do is to meditate on the Psalms each day. Start at the beginning and read one each day. I agreed readily enough and then there was another strong nudge. Write about it each day and put it in the blog. I agreed, although with some trepidation. Still, I agreed, so here I am, about to start.
Would y'all help keep me accountable? This is a big task and I'm, quite honestly, a bit scared. I feel like this is a LOT that is being asked of me, but I've never refused the Holy Spirit and I'm not about to start now. I know for a fact that obedience to His nudges always winds up with me reaping some good from it, so it's to my benefit to be obedient. Please pray for me. I need prayers not only for the task ahead, but also for the strength to persevere. I know He wouldn't have asked this of me if I was unable to do it, but this isn't going to be easy.
Thanks everyone! God bless you!
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Five Minute Friday: Morning
It's been a while since I've linked up with my friends at Five Minute Friday, but today's prompt was such a good one that I knew I had to write something on it. I don't exactly do the whole "five minutes" part of it as I'm not good at writing under that kind of pressure, but I love the prompts and reading all the various things people write about. The community are a really great bunch of folks too! If you're interested, check out the link above for more information and to link up with this week's prompt, click here. This week's prompt is MORNING. The following is my take on that prompt in a free verse poetic sort of style.
I am waiting for morning.
Every night, I wait for a day that has yet to come.
It isn't dawn or sunlight or birds tweeting their birdsong
Which makes me wait and yearn.
It is what a new morning signifies.
Hope.
Oh Hope, you temptress you.
I look for morning
Because I am promised that you are found in her embrace.
When the light filters through the trees and illumines the world
I am told that you are to be found amidst that wondrous moment.
So I wait.
And I wait.
I wait for morning.
I am waiting for morning.
Every night, I wait for the scent of dewy grass and cooler breezes.
It isn't the air so pure with freshness or quiet stillness
Which makes me wait and yearn.
It is that I may find new purpose in the morning.
Purpose.
Oh Purpose, how you seduce my senses.
I look for morning
Because I am promised that you are found in her embrace.
When all the world has just awoken and nothing yet dares to stir,
I am told that you are to be found amidst that wondrous moment.
So I wait.
And I wait.
I wait for morning.
I am waiting for morning.
This night, this endless, dark night keeps me waiting.
It is the raging tumult of rain and storms, howling wind, and impenetrable darkness
Which keeps me waiting and yearning.
It is these that pull me into hopelessness and worthlessness in this horrible night.
Hopelessness.
Oh Hopelessness, how you tear me apart again and again.
I look for morning
But you blind my eyes and tell me that I will never find morning again.
Worthlessness.
Oh Worthlessness, how you inject your venom like a drug into my heart.
I look for morning
But you deafen my ears and tell me that I am not worthy of seeing morning again.
In this onslaught and torrent
I am buffeted about, as weak as a thin piece of paper.
I am doomed to the night.
Morning with all her promises does not come.
Night and all his terrors abound.
But there are voices in the howling wind.
Voices that I strain to hear.
Voices that urge me to keep waiting for morning.
I am weak, like paper.
I am tired of waiting.
I cannot wait any longer and the night is fast stealing my voice.
Then strong arms hold me fast in the night.
Compassionate and understanding ears hear my wails of exhaustion.
My head and hands are lovingly tended with prayers and oil.
The voices walk with me through the night.
So I wait.
And wait.
And keep waiting.
And although it is still night
And dawn seems unimaginable and impossible,
These supports give me the strength
To keep waiting for morning.
I am waiting for morning.
Every night, I wait for a day that has yet to come.
It isn't dawn or sunlight or birds tweeting their birdsong
Which makes me wait and yearn.
It is what a new morning signifies.
Hope.
Oh Hope, you temptress you.
I look for morning
Because I am promised that you are found in her embrace.
When the light filters through the trees and illumines the world
I am told that you are to be found amidst that wondrous moment.
So I wait.
And I wait.
I wait for morning.
I am waiting for morning.
Every night, I wait for the scent of dewy grass and cooler breezes.
It isn't the air so pure with freshness or quiet stillness
Which makes me wait and yearn.
It is that I may find new purpose in the morning.
Purpose.
Oh Purpose, how you seduce my senses.
I look for morning
Because I am promised that you are found in her embrace.
When all the world has just awoken and nothing yet dares to stir,
I am told that you are to be found amidst that wondrous moment.
So I wait.
And I wait.
I wait for morning.
I am waiting for morning.
This night, this endless, dark night keeps me waiting.
It is the raging tumult of rain and storms, howling wind, and impenetrable darkness
Which keeps me waiting and yearning.
It is these that pull me into hopelessness and worthlessness in this horrible night.
Hopelessness.
Oh Hopelessness, how you tear me apart again and again.
I look for morning
But you blind my eyes and tell me that I will never find morning again.
Worthlessness.
Oh Worthlessness, how you inject your venom like a drug into my heart.
I look for morning
But you deafen my ears and tell me that I am not worthy of seeing morning again.
In this onslaught and torrent
I am buffeted about, as weak as a thin piece of paper.
I am doomed to the night.
Morning with all her promises does not come.
Night and all his terrors abound.
But there are voices in the howling wind.
Voices that I strain to hear.
Voices that urge me to keep waiting for morning.
I am weak, like paper.
I am tired of waiting.
I cannot wait any longer and the night is fast stealing my voice.
Then strong arms hold me fast in the night.
Compassionate and understanding ears hear my wails of exhaustion.
My head and hands are lovingly tended with prayers and oil.
The voices walk with me through the night.
So I wait.
And wait.
And keep waiting.
And although it is still night
And dawn seems unimaginable and impossible,
These supports give me the strength
To keep waiting for morning.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Breaking My Silence
If you have read my blog for any length of time, you may have noticed that one of the things I speak about most frequently - outside of the three Fs (faith, family, and fandoms) -- is my struggle with major depressive disorder. I'm sure there are some who read my words about this and wonder why on earth I would be so candid and open. I am certain that some of you who read this blog regularly may even find yourself squirming a little with discomfort when you see the words "depression" or "suicide" cross your screen.
Can I tell you something about that? It's okay. It's totally okay that you feel that way -- for now.
Eventually, I'd like you and everyone else to get to a place where those words are less disturbing and are instead a cause for you to stop and listen with concern -- not just to my words but to anyone who might need to speak those words aloud.
I'll be honest. I've only just gotten to a place where those words no longer make me cringe and flinch. Even as easy as it's become for me to write about those things, I'll admit that there are still times when it is a little hard to say them out loud and face to face. But I do it anyway.
Why do I keep talking about this? Quite simply, because it's necessary.
Because silence, in the face of mental illness is no longer an option for me.
I have been silent for over 25 years about my struggle and about the role of mental illness in shaping the person I am today. I have been silent about my struggles with depression, PTSD, self-injury, and suicidal thinking. I have been silent out of fear of what others might think of me or how they might treat me if they ever found out. I have hid my secret from friends, neighbours, and close family. I have struggled with being totally honest with my husband, my therapist, and my dear friends who have supported me for fear of being rejected outright or having someone I love and respect give up on me.
Part of this struggle has come from having had some bad experiences with sharing my struggles. I had a therapist who violated my trust, a friend who got angry, a neighbour who immediately laid hands on me (in a charismatic prayer way), family and friends who acted embarrassed that I'd shared with them, and some family who suddenly became possessed by a desire to be overly supportive. On the flip side of this, I've had a therapist (Pendragon) who has supported me and helped me immensely, friends who have listened compassionately and not judged, numerous friends (and family) who have prayed for me when I've asked (and without my asking), and last but not least, my sweet husband Gray who has loved me and supported me without hesitation for as long as I've known him.
Silence doesn't help increase awareness or education.
Silence keeps depression and other mental illness in the shadows.
Silence ensures that those who are struggling in the throes of suicidal thinking remain fearful of reaching out for help at a critical moment.
Silence perpetuates the stigmas surrounding mental illness in all its many forms.
Silence is an enemy to my own healing.
Silence begets more silence, more suffering and encourages others to suffer silently.
Silence is, in its own way, an agreement with the stigmas, misunderstandings, and confusion that surround mental illness and suicide.
So I refuse to be silent.
I will continue to speak out. I will speak through my own discomfort at times. I will continue to take risks in speaking to people one on one about my experiences with mental illness and suicide. I will continue to educate, answer questions, and advocate for better care, less stigma and a tomorrow where those who suffer do not feel the need to suffer in silence.
When Gray and I were just getting started in our relationship, he shared one of his favourite sci-fi/fantasy book series with me and in that series of books, I found one of my favourite quotes about sharing our struggles:
Now I'm going to ask something of you.
If you've read this, would you please comment below and then share this post somewhere else online? You can share it on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, your own blog, via email, or wherever you like.
I know it's a little scary to think about doing something so vulnerable and open, but let me do the heavy lifting. Just share this post. You don't have to say why. The point is to share it to break the silence.
I believe it is important to keep this idea going. I'd like more people to feel free to share their stories and know that it's okay. I'm here. I'll read your story if you want to share it with me -- here in the comments or via email. I promise I'll reply. Maybe in all this sharing, we'll find a way to lessen the pain of mental illness and increase joy for everyone.
Will you help me?
Can I tell you something about that? It's okay. It's totally okay that you feel that way -- for now.
Eventually, I'd like you and everyone else to get to a place where those words are less disturbing and are instead a cause for you to stop and listen with concern -- not just to my words but to anyone who might need to speak those words aloud.
I'll be honest. I've only just gotten to a place where those words no longer make me cringe and flinch. Even as easy as it's become for me to write about those things, I'll admit that there are still times when it is a little hard to say them out loud and face to face. But I do it anyway.
Why do I keep talking about this? Quite simply, because it's necessary.
Because silence, in the face of mental illness is no longer an option for me.
I have been silent for over 25 years about my struggle and about the role of mental illness in shaping the person I am today. I have been silent about my struggles with depression, PTSD, self-injury, and suicidal thinking. I have been silent out of fear of what others might think of me or how they might treat me if they ever found out. I have hid my secret from friends, neighbours, and close family. I have struggled with being totally honest with my husband, my therapist, and my dear friends who have supported me for fear of being rejected outright or having someone I love and respect give up on me.
Part of this struggle has come from having had some bad experiences with sharing my struggles. I had a therapist who violated my trust, a friend who got angry, a neighbour who immediately laid hands on me (in a charismatic prayer way), family and friends who acted embarrassed that I'd shared with them, and some family who suddenly became possessed by a desire to be overly supportive. On the flip side of this, I've had a therapist (Pendragon) who has supported me and helped me immensely, friends who have listened compassionately and not judged, numerous friends (and family) who have prayed for me when I've asked (and without my asking), and last but not least, my sweet husband Gray who has loved me and supported me without hesitation for as long as I've known him.
So with such different responses, why continue to speak out and expose myself to possible judgement, betrayal, or anger?
Because silence helps no one.
Silence doesn't help increase awareness or education.
Silence keeps depression and other mental illness in the shadows.
Silence ensures that those who are struggling in the throes of suicidal thinking remain fearful of reaching out for help at a critical moment.
Silence perpetuates the stigmas surrounding mental illness in all its many forms.
Silence is an enemy to my own healing.
Silence begets more silence, more suffering and encourages others to suffer silently.
Silence is, in its own way, an agreement with the stigmas, misunderstandings, and confusion that surround mental illness and suicide.
So I refuse to be silent.
I will continue to speak out. I will speak through my own discomfort at times. I will continue to take risks in speaking to people one on one about my experiences with mental illness and suicide. I will continue to educate, answer questions, and advocate for better care, less stigma and a tomorrow where those who suffer do not feel the need to suffer in silence.
When Gray and I were just getting started in our relationship, he shared one of his favourite sci-fi/fantasy book series with me and in that series of books, I found one of my favourite quotes about sharing our struggles:
.png) | ||
| For my fellow book nerds, this quote is from Callahan's Crosstime Saloon by Spider Robinson. It is the first of a whole series of books featuring a barman named Mike Callahan and the very unique folks who show up at his bar, Callahan's Place. If you need a fun read and like stuff that is a little different from your average sci-fi/fantasy book, I highly recommend reading this book and its sequels. |
If you've read this, would you please comment below and then share this post somewhere else online? You can share it on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, your own blog, via email, or wherever you like.
I know it's a little scary to think about doing something so vulnerable and open, but let me do the heavy lifting. Just share this post. You don't have to say why. The point is to share it to break the silence.
I believe it is important to keep this idea going. I'd like more people to feel free to share their stories and know that it's okay. I'm here. I'll read your story if you want to share it with me -- here in the comments or via email. I promise I'll reply. Maybe in all this sharing, we'll find a way to lessen the pain of mental illness and increase joy for everyone.
Will you help me?
Monday, February 9, 2015
Where Do I Go From Here?
Lately when I sit down to write in this blog, I find that I just can't make the words come. I'm not entirely sure why that is. It isn't that there aren't things in my head or ideas that I have. I have actually started quite a few posts which have gone unfinished because I just can't make them come together. I feel like I sit here staring at the screen quite a lot and trying to make sense of things.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
The cursor sort of sits there and mocks me -- or at least it feels that way. What to say?
Blink. Blink. Blink.
The cursor sort of sits there and mocks me -- or at least it feels that way. What to say?
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Five Minute Friday: Keep
Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here
for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get
involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word,
click here.
Have you ever heard someone say about a secret that it was just "too good to keep to myself?" I've never really understood that sentiment. If someone confides something in me and asks me to keep it under my hat, I have no problem with that. There are exceptions, of course (like if keeping the secret will result in something horrible or evil -- I'd have an ethical and moral obligation to tell someone who could help prevent it), but I've never been one of those who likes to share another person's dirty laundry. Quite honestly, I have enough of my own life that I keep close to the vest to be worried with sharing someone else's misfortune.
Until now. There is something that I am struggling to not shout from the rooftops. It is something that has happened and as a result, I have gotten some major closure to something that I never thought possible before now. When I heard about this, I practically did a jig where I was sitting. It's been a very very long time indeed since I was that joyful. I told Gray that it gave me a kind of infusion of joy that I've not felt flowing through me in a very long time. I would really, really love to tell you all about the details of this thing, but I feel like, for now, it's best to keep it to myself.
Since I don't feel totally comfortable sharing that with the world at large, how about I share something else with you instead? It's a link. If you have read my 31 Days series, you'll know that the topics of depression and suicide are very close to my heart. After much prayer and discernment, I have decided to participate in the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention's Out of the Darkness Overnight Walk in Boston, MA this June. It promises to be an amazing experience and the funds raised go to help those who are struggling with mental illness and suicidal thoughts, those who have lost loved ones to suicide deal with grief, and to fund educational programs that help prevent suicide. It is an excellent cause. I have to raise $1000 in order to participate (although I would love to raise more than that) and that's why I'm sharing this link. It's a link to my fundraising page on the Out of the Darkness Overnight website. I hope you'll consider a donation. It can be absolutely ANY amount you like -- even a single dollar! :) Even if you can't donate, I hope you'll keep me in your prayers as I try to raise funds for this and as I physically train for the walk itself. Thanks!
Out of the Darkness Overnight Walk
Oh, and one more secret that I've decided not to keep is who I really am. This link shows my name and my face along with my story (which isn't such a secret if you've read here much at all). One of the hardest things about having gone through (or when you are struggling through) something like a near suicide attempt is the fear that someone will find out that you did and how they might treat you because of it. There is a shame that comes from that fear and causes silence. One of the biggest reasons I am doing this is to break that silence, to share my story, and in doing so, help others find their voice and reach out for help.
I have decided to no longer keep hold of my fear.
I will no longer keep shame so that it renders me silent.
I will keep this experience as a part of my story, because it is.
I will keep telling my story -- all of it -- so that others may find the courage to face their fears and let go of their shame.
Finally, I will keep putting one foot in front of the other as I continue on my own road to recovery.
****
Have you ever heard someone say about a secret that it was just "too good to keep to myself?" I've never really understood that sentiment. If someone confides something in me and asks me to keep it under my hat, I have no problem with that. There are exceptions, of course (like if keeping the secret will result in something horrible or evil -- I'd have an ethical and moral obligation to tell someone who could help prevent it), but I've never been one of those who likes to share another person's dirty laundry. Quite honestly, I have enough of my own life that I keep close to the vest to be worried with sharing someone else's misfortune.
Until now. There is something that I am struggling to not shout from the rooftops. It is something that has happened and as a result, I have gotten some major closure to something that I never thought possible before now. When I heard about this, I practically did a jig where I was sitting. It's been a very very long time indeed since I was that joyful. I told Gray that it gave me a kind of infusion of joy that I've not felt flowing through me in a very long time. I would really, really love to tell you all about the details of this thing, but I feel like, for now, it's best to keep it to myself.
Since I don't feel totally comfortable sharing that with the world at large, how about I share something else with you instead? It's a link. If you have read my 31 Days series, you'll know that the topics of depression and suicide are very close to my heart. After much prayer and discernment, I have decided to participate in the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention's Out of the Darkness Overnight Walk in Boston, MA this June. It promises to be an amazing experience and the funds raised go to help those who are struggling with mental illness and suicidal thoughts, those who have lost loved ones to suicide deal with grief, and to fund educational programs that help prevent suicide. It is an excellent cause. I have to raise $1000 in order to participate (although I would love to raise more than that) and that's why I'm sharing this link. It's a link to my fundraising page on the Out of the Darkness Overnight website. I hope you'll consider a donation. It can be absolutely ANY amount you like -- even a single dollar! :) Even if you can't donate, I hope you'll keep me in your prayers as I try to raise funds for this and as I physically train for the walk itself. Thanks!
Out of the Darkness Overnight Walk
Oh, and one more secret that I've decided not to keep is who I really am. This link shows my name and my face along with my story (which isn't such a secret if you've read here much at all). One of the hardest things about having gone through (or when you are struggling through) something like a near suicide attempt is the fear that someone will find out that you did and how they might treat you because of it. There is a shame that comes from that fear and causes silence. One of the biggest reasons I am doing this is to break that silence, to share my story, and in doing so, help others find their voice and reach out for help.
I have decided to no longer keep hold of my fear.
I will no longer keep shame so that it renders me silent.
I will keep this experience as a part of my story, because it is.
I will keep telling my story -- all of it -- so that others may find the courage to face their fears and let go of their shame.
Finally, I will keep putting one foot in front of the other as I continue on my own road to recovery.
 |
| Join the Five Minute Friday fun over at Kate Motaung's blog! |
Thursday, January 1, 2015
One Word for 2015
Every year, for as long as I can remember, I have made New Year's resolutions. Sometimes I've been super formal about it and done the whole "this year I resolve to....." kind of thing. Sometimes I've been more casual about it, like "I'm going to try to.....this year." Some years, I've sworn that I'm not going to resolve anything at all because it never works and then wind up resolving something anyway and only half attempting it for a few days.
This year, I'm trying something totally different. This year I'm going to join up with oneword365.com to choose a word to focus on in order to better myself this year. The idea behind this is that rather than making some specific resolution that requires a lot of effort, planning, or motivation to stick with, you choose some kind of idea that you want to incorporate into your life via this word. You can choose any word you like, but most people choose a verb or an adjective that means something to them.
Because I'm an overachiever (or more likely because I'm crazy), I've chosen not one, but two words for 2015. My two words are....
Friday, November 28, 2014
Five Minute Friday: Give
Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here
for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get
involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word,
click here.
I hear the whisper in my consciousness that reminds me that it is yet again Friday and time for another five minutes of writing without regret. I wonder yet again if I am ready and go to look for the prompt.
Give.
What can I do with that? I stare at the word for the longest time and think a million thoughts, none of which are remotely related to "give" or if they are, they are more along the lines of some of my previous Five Minute Friday entries which have fed off the darkness in my mind. I hold back and wonder if I can really do it this week. Am I hesitant because I do not wish to share any more of my journey or is it for another reason? Is it because I wish to write something new instead of the same old thing? Why do I care so much? This is supposed to be writing that is done for me primarily and only shared because I enjoy the community that goes along with it. How long will I sit here and dither over this before I finally screw up my nerve, start the clock and begin typing? Not much longer, it appears as inspiration suddenly strikes and my fingers fly across the keyboard in a rhythmic tapping, leaving letters and words and phrases in their wake.
As I read back over it before hitting publish, I wonder if I dare to share this with the rest of the community. I muse over it and think that perhaps it would be best to stop and leave these words to another day or perhaps another season. I am tired and perhaps I ought to turn in for a few hours sleep before contemplating this again. My fingers still their pace over the keyboard as I insert the last few characters and glance back up over my work. I am quiet for a moment or two, pondering and weighing whether to delete it all and begin anew or stay with what I have written, link up and see what happens. In a moment, the decision is made and I am finished. I decide to offer this up as a little gift of thanksgiving in light of the Thanksgiving Day that has just passed.
It is my gift to you who so kindly come and read my natterings on this blog. Did you notice what I have given you?
****
Give.
What can I do with that? I stare at the word for the longest time and think a million thoughts, none of which are remotely related to "give" or if they are, they are more along the lines of some of my previous Five Minute Friday entries which have fed off the darkness in my mind. I hold back and wonder if I can really do it this week. Am I hesitant because I do not wish to share any more of my journey or is it for another reason? Is it because I wish to write something new instead of the same old thing? Why do I care so much? This is supposed to be writing that is done for me primarily and only shared because I enjoy the community that goes along with it. How long will I sit here and dither over this before I finally screw up my nerve, start the clock and begin typing? Not much longer, it appears as inspiration suddenly strikes and my fingers fly across the keyboard in a rhythmic tapping, leaving letters and words and phrases in their wake.
As I read back over it before hitting publish, I wonder if I dare to share this with the rest of the community. I muse over it and think that perhaps it would be best to stop and leave these words to another day or perhaps another season. I am tired and perhaps I ought to turn in for a few hours sleep before contemplating this again. My fingers still their pace over the keyboard as I insert the last few characters and glance back up over my work. I am quiet for a moment or two, pondering and weighing whether to delete it all and begin anew or stay with what I have written, link up and see what happens. In a moment, the decision is made and I am finished. I decide to offer this up as a little gift of thanksgiving in light of the Thanksgiving Day that has just passed.
It is my gift to you who so kindly come and read my natterings on this blog. Did you notice what I have given you?
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| Join the Five Minute Friday party at Kate Motaung's blog! |
Monday, November 17, 2014
One Lovely Blog Award
The first nomination came from my fellow 31 Days blogger buddy, Charlotte whose blog really is very lovely and who is a genuinely lovely person too. The second nomination is from another 31 Days blogger buddy, Barbara who writes so eloquently about being a caregiver on her blog and is someone I'm so very glad to say is definitely a part of my online tribe! Finally, I was nominated by Tara, my sweet friend from 31 Days, whose stories about her mom's struggle with mental illness and her relationship with her mom touched my heart on so many days and inspired me to continue sharing my own story of mental illness. All of these ladies have been a wonderful encouragement to me as I've written my 31 days journey and I am very grateful to have met them and gotten to know them through this challenge.
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