I was fresh out of the package,
and you burned me with your influence.
Fed me your lines and your rhymes,
All in perfect time and cadence.
You marked me with your ways,
and your faults,
so that whenever I do anything,
I am reminded of you.
Your rhymes and your cadences,
all getting stuck in my head as they are tattooed on my skin.
Sometimes,
the only way to heal is to break,
shatter until I can’t hear your melody anymore.
Break and twist until I can no longer fit in your machine.
Maybe you’re right.
Maybe I let go too soon,
Tapped out when I should have stayed in,
Let things go when they got too tough,
Gave up,
Gave in.
Maybe I am a coward,
For leaving,
For tapping out,
For wanting to protect myself,
For wanting to chase my own happiness,
Instead of feeling like I was stagnant and drowning.
Thank you for calling me “coward”,
I’m going to prove you wrong.
I’m working my way back to me again– Oysters, Tori Amos
Lately, there have been a lot of changes in my life.
Let’s start with the ending of the longest relationship I have ever been in.
2014-2017- The End of an Era
For a long time in that relationship I was oblivious to my own feelings. I had my head in the sand, thinking that I wasn’t really feeling the random thoughts that would pop up.
It won’t last.
He’s not your type.
Why him?
I chalked it up to hormones, or stress, or the natural feelings of resisting change, the typical thoughts you have when things are going so right and you’re waiting for the worst to strike.
It wasn’t until another factor came into play, another friend that I’ve been talking with for a few years on and off, that I realized how truly oblivious I was being, how much potential was still out there for me.
My boyfriend wasn’t the end all, be all that I thought he was.
So even though it was frightening, I ended up breaking up with him, and honestly, I’m happier than I can remember being for a long time.
And for the first time in YEARS, most of it is my own happiness, not relying on other people, or things that I think should make me happy, but things that actually make me happy.
I am more confident than I have ever been, finding myself after being in relationship after relationship with no time for me for about a decade with no real time for me.
It’s been that way since I was sixteen, flitting from relationship to relationship because I lacked confidence to do things on my own, settling for a boy because he gave me attention, and thinking he was the best option out there (Spoiler Alert: They weren’t; that’s why they’re exes).
Instead, they were all lessons.
How not to settle, How to find my voice, How to gain confidence, How to lose friends, among several other lessons that are more difficult to explain.
I’m beginning to wonder what lessons I can learn on my own.
The Haircut
We’ve all seen the movie cliché, girl breaks up with boy, cuts off her hair in an edgy way, etc etc. Yeah, I cut my hair after the break up, but it was so much more than that.
For years, in every relationship I have ever been in, I have always valued the opinion of my significant other more than my own–I blame this partly on my family and their values with the very 1950’s mindset, the woman exists to please the man– asking their opinions on the smallest of things, from nail polish colors to what shirt would look better etc.
This haircut was different because I didn’t ask anyone, I made my own decision and only showed my best friend after it was done. I didn’t post it on social media, or text or call anyone after it was done asking for opinions.
I just did it, and thought for the first time I think ever:
If someone doesn’t like it they can fuck themselves. It’s mine and I’m claiming it.
It’s been nearly two weeks and no one has said anything negative about it. It might have to do with this surge of confidence lately, but I’m enjoying it.
It’s small, but I’m starting to claim my body back as my own and make choices for myself.
Things that make me happy and comfortable.
Judo
It’s a little early to tell, since I just started Judo on Monday, but it goes back to choices and confidence.
This friend I’ve been talking to has been doing Judo for a while and Karate for longer, and he mentioned that I should join Judo. I was nervous because I have very little body-kinesthetic knowledge, and Judo is basically a fighting martial art, but I ended up going, actually breaking a sweat and enjoying it more than I thought I would.
Monday, it was more calm, groundwork, etc.
Thursday, it was throws, which were so empowering. Taking someone way heavier than me and throwing them like they weigh close to nothing. The first few were pretty bad, and frightening, but when I got it right, there was nothing like it.
With throws, you just know when it’s right.
I think that’s life too.
You can struggle through it, fight through the weight of decisions, force things over your head until they come crashing down, or you can adjust until everything is perfect and life flows over you like it’s weightless.
This last month has held a lot of changes, and a lot of growth, and I can’t wait to see what happens next.
As Tori says, I’m working my way back to me again.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if my parents had stayed together, or if I had lived with my mom instead of my dad. I’m not sure either would have been better than the life I have right now, but it’s still interesting to think about at times.
My mom and I haven’t always had the best relationship. When I was a toddler, my dad got custody and my mom spent years in and out of jail. She didn’t always make the best choices, but everyone makes mistakes. She and I didn’t see each other a lot during my teen years, and that was hard growing up, but it might have been for the best. For years, we were not in contact, but that changed in 2010.
In June of 2010, I reached out to my mom and we began emailing back and forth. It was lucky that we did because a few months later she was diagnosed with colon cancer. We were still just emailing at that time, she kept me updated on her treatments and I kept her updated on my writing projects and school. For a long time, her diagnosis didn’t seem real, so I avoided it. I stupidly thought “she’s getting treated, so she’s not as sick as it sounds”. Part of that too was that she kept a lot of it secret, how severe it really was. She focused more on my writing skills and encouraging me to continue my writing, and I am grateful for that, but at the same time, I wish I had known how serious it really was.
Two years later, around September of 2012, she printed my first completed story. She was not a tech expert by any means, but she took it down to the local Office Max and printed two copies. One for me to edit and read through, and one for her and her side of the family to read. That was the first time I realized my writing was ever really worth something. That was the first time I felt proud of my writing, and the first time I even considered going further than just writing it and leaving it in the “to be typed” tote in my closet. I can never thank her enough for that.
Not too long after that, in December of 2012, she was put on hospice. Hospice means that the medical professionals believe that the patient has less than six months to live. I started to see her behind my dad’s back, even though I was an adult, and she taught me a lot about her cancer, her treatments, and some of the things I had missed when we were apart. It wasn’t until February, and full swing in the first nursing program, that my dad finally found out about how serious her condition was and allowed me to see her on the weekends.
We talked about a lot on those weekends, and I am so glad we did, because I didn’t realize how short our time really was. It was around finals for the first semester in nursing school and I was convinced that I had failed one of my finals. I emailed her, telling her that I was convinced I would drop out of nursing school. She called me the next day, while I was in class, and she told me some of the greatest words that I needed at that moment. “You passed, I’m sure of it, and if you didn’t, then it wasn’t meant to be”.
Those words may seem harsh, but they were what I needed to hear. After, she asked me to call her back when I could, and I promised I would. I never did, and I wish I had. We had so much more to talk about, I had so much more to say, but we never got that chance.
It worked out that I actually got to be there when she passed a few days later. I had gone over for her birthday, as I had planned to, only it wasn’t the day I had planned. Her hospice nurse had increased her dose of dilaudid and she was basically knocked out. She died the next morning, but I stayed up most of the night with her, spending time with her. It wasn’t the easiest of nights, and we didn’t communicate with words, but that didn’t mean we weren’t communicating.
I’m dedicating my books to her, because she inspired me, she pushed me, and most of all she loved me, whether I was a writer or not, a nurse or not. She loved me for me, and I only wish she could be alive to see the book she helped to inspire published.
To whom would you dedicate your work?
Writing is hard work. On the good days, it’s like playing god in your own little universe, on the bad days, it’s like babysitting spawn from hell. Most of the time it all depends on the words we put (or don’t put) on the page. Writing should come easy. Put word after word until you have a sentence, then a paragraph, then a page, and so on and so on until you have a novel. HA! If only it was that easy!
Sometimes, we make writing harder than it has to be. We struggle with what words to put down on the page, what mood we want them to set, and what order we want them in. Sometimes, we put words down, and cross them out, or backspace until the page is blank yet again. Some days, it’s a wonder we get words down at all.
So how do we rectify this? Easy: Write Now, Edit Later
This lesson comes at the perfect time. The first session of Camp NaNoWriMo starts in April, and writing first and leaving the editing for later is what Camp NaNo is all about. The point of Camp NaNo, and its parent site NaNoWriMo is “literary abandon”. I take this literally to mean “write whatever comes to mind on that page and edit when that piece is done”.
So enough about Camp NaNo (There will be a post about that later this month), let’s talk about how to turn off the “inner editor” and just write.
Set a Goal- Well, look who’s talking about goals again! Laugh all you want, roll your eyes, whatever. Setting a goal works. What works best when having goals is setting one that almost seems out of reach. For some of us, that’s 2000 words and for others that’s 100. No judgement here, some days I can’t even get 5 words down, let alone 2000. So why a goal that seems just out of reach? If the goal is too easy, there is no challenge. If the goal is too hard, you will easily get discouraged. So finding the middle ground will motivate, but not discourage you in your writing endeavors.
Write as Much as You Can- Writing and writing skills, as I mentioned a few weeks ago, is a muscle. If you write as much as you can, you build that muscle and writing becomes easier, and you learn that your editor can take a vacation and you don’t have to doubt the words on the page. It might be difficult, but with time it will get easier.
When you start writing and just writing, saving the editing for later, you get more writing done and you start to finish more projects. When you write without the editor looming over your shoulder, you can enjoy your writing again, and it doesn’t have to be such a chore.Isn’t that what we all want from writing?
How do you silence your inner editor and write now?
Without something to strive for, to work towards, we are stagnant. No matter what your preferred calling is, whether it be your occupation, your hobby, or maybe even a little of both, goals are necessary.
For several years, I have had goals, both writing goals, and goals in other areas of life. I’ve had both long and short term goals, which in some cases can be interchangable. Sometimes, short term goals can morph into long term, or vice versa. If a long term goal feels unattainable, break it into smaller short term goals. For example: If the goal is a burst of confidence by the end of the year it’s not something to start the first day of December. Some goals take time, and that’s not a bad thing.
Sometimes we’re not ready for our goals, we’re scared, or shy, or we don’t have the means to complete them just yet, or the time and patience. That is perfectly fine, sometimes we have to fail a few times before we succeed. That’s part of learning and the human experience.
If we all succeeded the first time we tried something, we would never learn anything. We would not grow, or advance as a society. Failing is perfectly acceptable, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Of course, we never really want to fail, but sometimes it is inevitable. That’s why I am going to share some of my goals, both that I succeeded and failed in.
Let’s start with 2009. I was in my first year of college, trying to get through Anatomy, Psychology and College algebra. That was the first year I found out about NaNoWriMo (nanowrimo.org), which takes place in November. You know what else takes place in November? Finals. I had to make a choice between preparing for finals and writing 50,000 words, or fail both. I chose finals, and I succeeded in furthering my progress in my long term goal of nursing. Did that stop me from doing NaNoWriMo the next year? No way!
In 2010, I got into the CNA program and succeeded.
Then I had to wait three years for my acceptance into the LVN program. Three years is a long time to wait for your goal, and for a while, I lost track of my goals. I like to call those years my “dark ages” and for good reason.
2011- I was dating a guy for most of 2011 (let’s call him Poland). Thing went well for a while, and them my feelings for him died when I met another guy who I deemed more my type (let’s call him Hilter… It’s going to be a complex metaphor). Because of the conflict the rest of my 2011 sucked and I nearly failed classes I needed for nursing school because of it. I was writing a novel at the time and I nearly didn’t finish that either.
2012- Hitler didn’t work out, so I dated Himmler for a month, and that was like being stuck in a work camp, and after him Goebels, which was one of the worst mistakes of my life. I dropped more classes that I needed (and that counted against me later), I screwed up my sleep schedule, and I nearly jeopardized my chances of getting into the nursing program at all. I was aimless, I had forgotten my long term goals. Even my short term goals and my writing suffered.
And then 2013 came, I got into the LVN program, and I succeeded. Sure, there were pitfalls In that year too, but there were also triumphs. I made it through all three semesters, I wrote, I reached some short and some long term goals. I learned about myself and I was able to succeed once I put my mind to it.
2014 was even better. I worked my ass off through the RN year, I met the best man I have ever been with, who I love more than I ever thought imaginable, and I wrote ten (10!) short stories, finished a full length novel and faced my fears and submitted something to a writing contest. I could not have done any of that if I hadn’t struggled through those “dark ages”.
Goals, whether we succeed or fail, teach us something about ourselves and others.
What goals do you have?
