No, I'm not referring to a district of any kind. I'm just recounting the last twenty-four hours of my life. I had a long day yesterday, filled with lots of emotions, physical pain, attitude adjustment, over exertion, more pain, memory lane travel, heart strings pulled, Netflix binge-watching, peanut butter and honey, one giant-ass spider, and another fall from my husband. (Never fear, the spider didn’t make it, but my husband is recovering.) My weekends tend to follow one of two patterns. I either do nothing, which causes a Tin Man after the rain kind of rigor mortis, or I do too much, and I end up with a fibromyalgia full body migraine. The weirdest part of this spectrum is that it only appears the last time I wake up for the day. The other two to three times I wake up to accommodate my bladder, I'm stiff and sore, but functional. It's the last hour to hour and a half of my night that leaves me longing to be hit by a Mack Truck. So, I decided I would try something different. The last time my bladder called, I would not go back to sleep. I would appease my bladder and get ready for work. AND IT HAPPENED!
I smiled and said, “Welcome to the Red Light.”
In that moment, I realized that even though I’ll never be a morning person, my train will jump the track more times than not, and I stay at least one step behind the rest of the world, there’s one thing that always evens out the playing field—no matter how many people pass me by, we all end up at the same red light.
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For God is not a God of confusion but of peace...
1 Cor 14:33a ESV But all things should be done decently and in order. 1 Cor 14:40 ESV Today's devotional is entitled "Clutter or Calm", and let me just say it's definitely a "twitching" moments. Butttttttt...the perspective is so simple I can actually see myself using this advice. The best part is this is nothing new. Just a gentle reminder of what I already know. Clutter goes hand in hand with chaos, confusion, and even depression. What I endear to "nesting" is really a defense mechanism I use to feel safe and secure. What starts out simple enough turns into more clutter and less security. So, today i decided to do something about it. I set my timer for 20 minutes and organized the clutter on my bed. When the timer went off the, I set it for another 20 minutes. This was more than just putting things away. I could dumped all of it in a box somewhere and be done with it in less than 5 minutes. But what's the point of decluttering if I'm not going to organize as well? After 40 minutes, I have all my patterns tucked away in a craft box, all the loose, unused yarn back in its bin, and I only have the 3 projects left that are easily moved around without getting tangled. Is my room perfect? Not by a long shot. Do I have more to organize? Ha ha ha! At this moment, I feel better, more motivated, and encouraged to continue. Onto my next 20 minute project, hopefully just as productive as the last! An Apple a Day 7 Day devotional provided by Michael Mol, Dalene Reyburn and Christian Art Publishers. For more information, please visit: https://www.cumbooks.co.za/ I have a very short attention span and must keep my tasks rotating to stay focused. The alternative leads to lethargy, headaches, overthinking, disarray... and this was a problem BEFORE Covid-19. 2020 has only magnified my inability to focus. For example, I set a timer to work on my website for 30 minutes. Then proceeded to spend the last several hours "revamping" the entire thing, only to delete everything I moved around because it only made things worse. This is my procrastination side trying to "look" productive, but only ends up being "busy" with nothing but a strained neck and a headache to show for it. So... I decided to actually blog, which was one of my goals today in the first place! I changed the name of my blog section to Goldfish Prose with the intent of adding short blogs to spur myself to write more. That hasn't happened, and considering the length of this blog, I might as well throw that idea out the window. But Goldfish Prose fits my personality so I'm going to keep it. Here are a few topics to be watching for: The Business of Writing
Craft of Writing
Short Stories and More...Faith and Inspiration
Last but not least...Better known as NanoWrimo (Just in case you're wondering, I pronounce it "Nan-Oh Reem-Oh". Others pronounce it Nan-Oh Rhyme-Oh." Not saying they're wrong, but...)
So, this is my plan in a nutshell... I know it's a pretty big nutshell, but what do they always say? Go big or go home...
Seeing my friends post their homemade masks on Facebook inspired me to try my hand at it. I located a stash of material from one of my sewing phases. My house is full of UFO’s (UnFinished Objects). Anyway, after watching a couple of YouTube videos, I was off. Now, using a sewing machine would make things go 1,000 times faster, but sewing machines and I have never danced well together. We can’t decide who should lead and who should follow. So, these puppies would be made by hand. Needing a flat surface, I pulled out an old lap board stashed away in my garage. This lap board is a glimpse into my past. When My best friend made it, she didn’t do the usual collage, because she knew that wasn’t me. Everything is spaced out nice and neat. There’s a sense of control. I have since learned to embrace chaos and disarray, so looking at this lap board is a reminder of how far I’ve come. Like many of my OKC friends, I’ve been home since March 26, trying to do my part in flattening the curve of COVID-19. It hasn’t been a complete isolation. I take my son to work, pick up groceries, and even get drive-thru for dinner from time to time. I sleep until I can’t sleep anymore, crochet until my elbows beg for a reprieve, and Netflix and Facebook until there is nothing left but a zombie version of myself. Experiencing the whole wheel of emotions is an understatement. I’ve stayed on this side of the brink for the better part of two weeks. Then Sunday morning I woke up wanting permission to give into my depression. The moment the thought crossed my mind, I felt God smiling at me like a concerned parent. The kind of smile that says I understand how you feel, but I’m not going to do that, because you wouldn’t do it for anyone else. And it’s true. If someone asked me for permission to give up, I wouldn’t let them. I couldn’t. I used to think depression was one sort of feeling or symptom. Over the years, I have found it comes in all shapes and sizes. Sadness. Tears. Overthinking. Guilt where there is none. Sleeping until noon. Eating to stuff feelings… and on and on and on. Sunday morning was my moment of acknowledgement. Wanting permission to give into my depression was the fork in the road. It would be so easy to lay in bed and dwell on all the things I can’t control, or I could get up and keep moving. Well, I overslept and missed the live feed of our online church service. It’s the third week to be online, and it has helped a lot, because I miss my Sunday morning peeps. I grudgingly rolled out of bed and grabbed my lap board so I could work on my next mask while listening to the sermon. It occurred to me that I haven’t read the quotes on this board in a very long time, knowing full well I was just stalling. Another example of how depression creeps up. Determined to stall, I read all the little clips. Then one hit me right in the chest. A poem by Annie Johnson Flint. Most of my friends know I’m a big believer in signs. Who knew my latest sign waited on a lap board I haven’t really paid attention to in almost 30 years? So, I pulled up YouTube and watched my church online service while working on a new face mask. As always, the sermon was great. Since I wasn’t finished with my face mask, I watched our other two services again. Of course, the sermon about confession was exactly what I needed. Confession can also mean acknowledgement. I needed to acknowledge—confess—my building depression. Confessing to God is the easy part for me, because he’s seen me through all sorts of ups and downs. Good and ugly. Then Pastor Ben said sometimes it helps to take it a step further and confess to a friend. Believe it or not, that was harder. When something weighs heavy on my heart, saying it out loud feels like weakness. I’m cool with being weak in front of God, because I’ve been there before. He already knows my weaknesses. Being weak in front of a friend is different. It’s a vulnerability not easy to share, but in doing so, I took my first step toward healing. Like having an abscess or blood caught under a smashed fingernail, the best way to release the pressure is also the most painful. The anticipation of making that cut is far more unbearable than the cut itself. Sure, it hurts like a mother trucker, but the relief that follows is worth it. So, I’m not as productive or organized as I could be right now, but I’m no longer looking for permission to give into my depression either. Does this change my situation? Yes, because it changes the way I look at my situation. Here’s to flattening that curve. Never did I ever think I could –
If this list tells me anything, it tells me NEVER to say NEVER. Lately, instead of driving all the way across town to my favorite library, I’ve been utilizing the one down the street from my house. I didn’t notice it for the longest time, because it’s a small branch located in a strip mall. I have fallen in love. There is always enough space for me and my sons to find a table and plug in. The library has better WIFI and helps me to focus on tasks whether it’s working on my novel or answering my much neglected emails. I have no other distractions, except maybe the people, who are always fascinating to watch. The last several visits, I have faced the juvenile non-fiction section. I can’t really read the titles along the spine of the books, but the library has strategically displayed eye-catching titles that are easily visible from across the room. One night, every time I looked up, I noticed a book about unicorns and other mythological creatures. I was intrigued. On a whim I picked it up along with a book on grammar. As we walked to the front desk, another book jumped out at me about Charles Darwin. I have no qualms of checking out titles for a younger audience. These books piqued my interest in topics I want to know more about. The next trip to the library came after participating in a workshop on poetry. The instructor had suggested a couple of poets to read, and while none of them were located at this library, I found two promising poets. Enjoying my hunt, I decided to check out their yoga section. (One of my newest passions) I DISCOVERED… There’s more to unicorns than meets the eye. I probably should apologize to all my English teachers from the 5th grade and up. Charles Darwin led a fascinating life. Poetry proves you can describe love using any terminology, even mathematical. And yoga rocks for any shape or size. What treasures have you found at the library recently? My dad has a copy of a story I wrote called My Life as a Clothes Hanger. The handwriting looks to be from the 3rd or 4th grade. I don't have any recollection of this story, but thought if I ever wrote a memoir, that would be my title. Then it hit me, I have a blog I never use...
Don't get me wrong. I can contribute to the writing world right alongside the rest. I have enough experience to help people along the way, even while I'm still learning. And I'm always learning.
But this page has been revamped to include more than just writing, because writing is only one "hanger" in my closet. (See what I did there?) There are plenty more hangers, maybe even a couple of skeletons. November is National Novel Writers Month.
What is NanoWrimo? A community of writers from across the world that come together for one month out of the year to cheer each other on by writing 50,000 words in 30 days. Even better, they raise money to support literacy and other reading/writing programs across the globe. What do I get out of it? Inspiration. Practice. New words. The beginnings of a new novel. The guts of a novel I'm stuck on. Support. Validation. Community. I discovered this wonderful world of writers almost twelve years ago. I have seven years listed in the "novel" section of my participant page. As I was gearing up to participate this year, I went through my memory lane and discovered little gems of my own writing history. I have to admit I teared up a little. I have attempted the same story several years in a row. Each a little different from the last, and now can be seen as the stepping stones of completed manuscripts. (at least 2 of them!) Even 2017 and 2018 are the same story. Different titles (much better, I might add). Even different character names! It is so much fun to see how things develop. It is officially day 8. I am at 11,307 words, which is a little shy of my goal. Even if I don't make it to 50,000, I will have something concrete to build from, and that's more than I an say before I started. If you are looking for a boost and a support system that will spur you into the right direction, check out it! www.nanowrimo.org I always start blogs, but never keep them up. I have a lot of things to say, but can never sit still long enough to say them. This is something I want to get better at. Then again, I also have plenty of entries that begin that way. So, this is me utilizing the space I have already created and allowed to grow dusty for far too long. I'm going to pretend that the gap in time doesn't exist and act like I've been here the whole time. I mean, what is anyone going to say? It's my website after all.
So this is HELLO to anyone who comes across this page. |
AuthorMy dad has a copy of a story I wrote when I was 9 or 10 years old called My Life as a Clothes Hanger. I thought if I ever wrote a memoir, that would be my title.Then it hit me, I have a blog I never use... Archives
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