I haven’t done this for a while. Chatted with myself. Trying to figure out what the hell is going on in my head. Where I am going. What I am wanting from myself and from my life. I cannot continue to surf along being a passive participant. And truthfully I am. I do not actively write for a poetry collection. It is a dream yet I keep telling myself it will happen when you have the time. When you are on holidays. When you have this when you have that it isn’t gonna happen without my doing something about it. So I have.
Tember received his report card last week. I am happy with his grades. There are a few things he needs to improve on one such thing being his use of punctuation spelling sentence structure to name a few. We were talking about it on the way to school the other morning. Yesterday. I was asking a few questions probing wondering if he was having some difficulties. He said no it was how he wrote. Now I get that. I spew out a lot too so I understand what he is saying. (As is most apparent with these types of posts) He is trying to keep up with the ideas that are forming in his head. There are times when I write that I end up on autopilot because I have too much to say and if I slow down I loose the rhythm. I can go back and edit. Which is what Tember needs to do. Edit that is I suggest that during the week he is with me in the evening he could write a page and go back over to edit it. He is grousing at me and how am I going to gauge a page? When it hit me: Buddy we will do it together. During the time that you are writing I will do the same. I will begin my poetry collection for publication.
Called Evenings spent with my Son. That is a working title but we are doing this. Tember will work on his short stories. I will work on my poetry.
My problem is I like to share my poems. Once upon a time I despaired of being a poet. I wanted to be a writer. A Writer. Who spun stories. Who had a wellspring of tales in her head that needed to be told. Some of this may sound familiar to those who have followed my blog for awhile but for those who are relatively recent a quick run down: I was sure I was the next best thing in the writing world. Please cut me some slack I was a brash teenager. Aren’t we all as we head into adulthood? I had written the next great novel. I sent it off. I was rejected. Now they acknowledged I had talent but that I should avail myself of some classes. Writing classes. Broke my spirit. At that time I had no idea that I had depression/living with depression.This was enough to send me into an episode. I did not write for years. Approximately 5. Then the dam broke and out came the notebooks filling them with poem after poem. This became a cycle for me. Eventually it boiled down to: I burned my collection of works. Swore I I was never going to write again. Ever. Yet here I am. And I realized I am a writer. I write for the pleasure of others. My stories. My words. My imagination. My creativity. My emotions. I write for myself. Actually I will let you in on a little secret I am not sure that I am the real author of the poems. I may be channeling someone greater than myself will ever be because I can never believe that I wrote that. That I put those words together. Oh look at me off on a ramble and boasting.
I am making myself cry.
Originally I was sitting down to write because I was annoying the hell out of myself. I have been finding myself lately second guessing things that I have said or done. Examined them over and over obsessively to see if I could have handled them differently. Coming up with answers to questions that have not even been asked. Given how f**ken hard I worked to break myself of this very bad habit yet here I am doing it again. I have had several conversations with myself. When I do catch myself (it is becoming easier to see what I am doing and why. It is having to face what is inside me) and chivy myself along with a stern talking to. I keep having to remind myself that it is passed in the past. Nice tongue twister there. I have to remind myself that coming up with answers to questions is futile and so…..was going to say idiotic but stopped. That is such an insult to myself. I am not an idiot. I am someone who when she is bothered by something begins to obsess over it. Poking and prodding.
More tears.
I have a friend who seems to have an uncanny knack for messaging me at a time when I need it. I asked her a couple of questions about what was bothering me and told her I was obsessing over it. With that she shot back that I do a great job. To not obsess in anyway. And that I had actually accomplished something that others could not. I almost spit out my coffee when I read that. She has been on this incredible ride with me for the last two years. I was not sure if I ever told her how much I appreciated her and all she has done for me. So I told her today.
Crying again.
Someone will be pleased to know I am sentimental. (Stop smirking J) And maybe I am crying for myself too. For how far I have come. I have further to go but right now I am good with myself. I do have to work at being more accepting of myself. Loving of myself. Quit looking in the mirror and despairing at what I see. Refind my confidence. Grow.
Well now I began in one spot and as usual when I begin to write these conversations and everything comes spewing out. I know it it is because I think of some as family and our community here is supportive and close knit. and you all create so you will understand my abrupt brain shifts. Squirrel. Hope that made someone laugh.
I am going to give a brief recap of my 2019:
Tember and I have continued to grow our relationship. I am that cool mom. Only because I almost never get mad and even if I do it never lasts long. We will still do things for each other even if we are mad. I have realized hanging on to anger is ridiculous. Yes I might yell however after I calm down I always go back and we talk. Oh and as I am at work I provide great comedic entertainment for Tember’s friends. I.E. putting my glasses on over my contacts and then accusing Tember of having done something to them. OMG I felt dumb on that one.
The ex and I are getting along really well. He is back with his significant other which I am so appreciative of. She is good for him. And I like her.
Me? Mentally I have done really well. I have been struggling with alcohol I am going to be honest. However I am quitting. I can see mom shaking her head as she has heard it time and time again and shit I sound exactly like it. Ever need a swift kick in the ass to realize you are exhibiting the behaviour of someone you despise? Just had that moment. Gonna make it stick this time.
Met a really nice man. However much to my dismay it did not work out and while we still text some times we have parted company. I have been watching a lot of Murdoch mysteries hence the ‘parted company’ comment. He made me laugh.. And ladies…..hang on to your hats…..he even listened every once in a while. I know I had to bestill my beating heart as well.
As we are heading into the final days of 2019 I look forward to Dec. 23. It will be two years that I have been pill free. 24 months. With no slips. No cravings except maybe once but I was stronger then that. I am damn proud of myself. I have had heartache and allowed myself to experience it. Twice. Once with mom although I had to drink to get the words out with that one. But the crying. The pain. The loss. The everything…..I allowed it all to flow over me. And let me say I did not like it. I did not like experiencing all those feelings like that. I understand why I took pills for so long to mash down my feelings. The fact is I have beaten the pills. Not my addictive personality. That is something that I always am going to struggle with. But the desire to escape from them. I do not want to do that ever again. And I think that I really ready to open up myself. To myself. I need to come out and chisel the metaphorical ice that I have around my heart and to let it warm. Sounds so damn corny. But I cannot be afraid to live any more. I need to reach for the stars. I need to believe in myself. I need to be 100% not 92.9% as I hold the rest in reserve.
I am looking forward to growing more in 2020. I look forward to loving all of me. I look forward to all the life has to offer me. All of it.
Merry Christmas & Happy New Year Folks. I appreciate each one of you who are a part of my WordPress family even though I am more the quiet lurker in the corner with all the kitties. Sorry more warped humor. Hope all enjoy if you made it to the end of my endless ramble. Not sure how to end this but I cannot type forever so I shall just stop now………
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤓💜
Dec. 5/19
The Wonderful and Wacky World of One Single Mom 