Not in her Shadow

***Originally I was going to write about gratitude. But as usual what I assume/think I am going to write about ends up changing.***
I am my very own worst enemy. Forever I am telling myself why I cannot do things. I have an idea. I want to write about my journey through depression. It will be filled with my own brand of quirky writing and some of my blog posts and poetry. I have gotten as far as writing the introduction to myself. I have ideas but I am not sure how to implement them. Little bits and pieces float around in my brain and yet I am unable to bring myself to actually begin to write. Why? Because I keep stopping myself.
Both Grateful Single Moms and Claire S. had posts this morning that basically kicked me in the ass. Once more the universe is telling me to get my shit together. And if I don’t do it, I am going to miss my opportunity. So why am I so scared to begin? What do I have to lose? If I do not do this I am going to spend the rest of my life regretting it. If I do, an entire world will open before me. Yet I am still hesitant.
Today DD and me were talking about kids and how they can feel like they are in the shadows of their siblings. That they feel they will never come out from there, finding their own niche. My response was that I never had to contend with that, baby bro is 7 years younger than me and male. I mean he has payed me the biggest compliments twice in my life. Once when in junior high he found my atroctious first novel, changed the cover page and tried to hand the work in as his own. It was over 200 pages long of the worst drivel imaginable. Although he was looking for an easy out on an english assignment he still chose my work. And than this year, he told me I was talented. I don’t think he realized how much that meant to me. (I am crying as I write this.)
Than I thought about it and I do have a shadow that I have always felt I have been in. My mom is an amazing woman. I know I have written that like a thousand times and I will write it a thousand more. I can never be as kind, helpful, nonjudgemental and wonderful as she is. She coped with being divorced in the 1980’s. She coped with two children who as teenagers were selfish little snots who caused her so much hurt and pain. She found her dream and went for it. 1999 she retired and moved down to Mexico. For a couple of years she sort of floated around not sure what to do. The original plan was to open a beachside clinic as she is a trained nurse. Yet the more she looked around mom realized that the need was to help the families that lived in poverty around her.
Mom decided that she needed to give back to the community that had welcomed her. She set out to and created a foodbank. Mom travels to meet families in need to determine if they are eligible for assistance. She began a prenatal program for pregnant women. She developed programs within the school and has psychology students going in and working with the kids for free. (I maybe a little off on some of this in regards to the programs developed) She plans and co-ordinates the fund raising.
Clothing is donated for men, women and children. There are cruise ships that stop there and there are so many people who have been in touch with her and bring down school supplies and toiletries. Many people who visit her bring down a suitcase full of humanitarian aid. My mom is an amazing and selfless woman. And I know that I am not in her shadow nor do I need to fill her shoes. Yet subconsciously I think that I am not able to live up to her. An interview done on her several years ago called her the St. Sharon of Chixchulub. She will be the first to dispute this title. I am so proud that she is my mom and all the things that she has accompllished. And I am afraid that I am going to fall short.
Please do not think that in any way shape or form, has mom done anything to deter me. Not once has she insisted that I do things her way. Well she really wanted me to attend University but that was not in the cards for me. I did not have the desire to attend more classes. Maybe if I had been smart and gone into a writing program I would have perservered. Or not. Maybe the life that I have lead has brought me to this point. I know that she is proud of me and wants me to live the best life that I can for me. And I need to believe that. I need to believe in myself.
I have written that before . Goodness but my post is a lot of repetition today.
I do not know why I still doubt myself. Why I can talk to others and help them with their problems or issues and yet am unable to deal as effectively with my own. Every time that I start to talk about belief, all I can hear is Eminem singing ‘Believe’ in my head. Not the enitre song but just when he says ‘Believe’ in the chorus. As though even he is telling me to believe in myself.
I began this post saying it would be about what I am grateful for and yet it has turned into another one of my wandering stories. Covering everything and nothing. Yet I learned something within these words. I am going to end this post with one thing that I am grateful for.
I am grateful for my mom. She has shown me the discipline to reach for my dreams. She has shown me that anything I want is possible. She is my mom. And I love her so.
P.S. Mom is going to be horrified by all of this. Most likely will feel an inkling of guilt. I will get a letter or call later in which she will tell me that I am not in her shadow and I do not need to compare myself to her. That I am a wonderful woman in my own right. And she is right. But she is the woman that I look up to the most so inevitably I am going to compare myself to her. I love you mom.
P.P.S. This is the link to the article about mom written in 2012 if you would like to learn more.

Go Me!

I feel like I need to say something. I am not sure what it is that I want to say though. Thoughts keep flashing through my head. Not one stops to let me latch on. My inspiration seems to have fallen short. Truthfully I do know what my problem is. I am unsure of how it is that I am going to deal with it. I keep starting to build scenerios in my head and than stopping. This is a dangerous road for me to go down because it starts small and spirals. Every time this happens, I tell myself to not go there. I do not know what the conversations are going to bring. And no matter how much I plot and plan, I do not know what the other person is going to say.
I do not want to return to work. I have been in Customer Service since I was 17 years old. As a waitress, a receptionist, rental and kitchen supplies, taking orders in an industrial setting, and for the last 14 years have worked for the same company in a variety of positions. I am working at a job that does not satisfy me. That does not challenge me so I need to create challenges. I fell into Customer Service by default. It is something that I am good at. Talking to people. Welcoming them. Remembering them. This was not where I was planning to be. A career in writing, that is where I saw myself but the path sorta veered out to the right, crossed to the left and has finally straightened out again.
I recently wrote about how T believes in me. It is time to start to believe in myself and my writing. I recently took the plunge and submitted a poem to the New Reader Magazine. I have mentioned this before and as I type this it has been exactly a month since I sent the poem in. I patiently await a response and am prepared for anything. Rejection is what I am expecting. Not because I do not think that the poem I submitted is not good but because it is my first submission anywhere.
This passed weekend I had the weirdest inspiration. And I wrote a poem that my baby bro told me was pretty good. He was not sure how one goes about measuring a poem as he has never read one before. Which let me know that it actually must be good because this is a man who reads absolutely nothing if he is able to get away with it. (It is due to my wonderful SIL that my niece and nephews are such voracious readers.) I had another poem that fit with this one so I put them together and submitted them.
Of course last night after submitting them I had an ‘omg what the hell have I done? I am so pretentious. Who am I to write about this material?’ I sent a message to K who of course talked me down. She is actually the one who encouraged me to submit Moral Bankruptcy  in the first place. The other is called Subvert. Two brand new and unpublished anywhere poems. And now I wait. Again I am fully expecting to be rejected. I submitted to The New Yorker.
Who am I to do this? That is what is going through my head over and over again. How could I have the audacity, an unknown writer, to submit to one of the most prestigous magazines out there? And in my voice I can hear my bro telling me over and over again to jump. Mom is behind him saying JDI-just do it. And most of all there is T cheering the loudest with ‘Mom you can do this. You can do anything.’
I am moving out of my comfort zone. I am proud of the poetry that I have written. Proud of the poetry that I have submitted. Poetry that as of yet has only been read by K and my bro. Proud of myself.  I am putting myself out there. For good or bad, I have done it.  Go me!