I have been battling, maybe not so much battling as that requires strength and some positive gains, enduring perhaps. I have been enduring depression for some time along with anxiety and panic and other things for quite some time. Lately, I often feel like I have hit a wall. I have hit a wall and there's this awful, horrible circle where I feel unable to control myself. Within that circle is when I feel helpless, forgotten, and destroyed. Within that circle is where the thoughts occur. The thoughts that terrify me, the thoughts that depression causes and I don't know how to come back from those thoughts. This buildup in my chest, this feeling that my chest is going to burst from an overload of emotion-grief, pain, fear, anxiety, depression, intensity, anger, concern, overwhelm, uncertainty, weakness, inability, despair..... This build up is locked away because no one will understand it, no one asks why my eyes look so sad or if I am okay. I have to figure this all out on my own because I am a grown woman. I am twenty-five and it is well past the time that I should have learned to stand on my own two feet emotionally. But the weight of all these emotions and doctor speak for being really fucked up is too much for my narrow shoulders to carry. The weight is too heavy for my damaged body and weary mind. These emotions are much too strong for one mere mortal to bear. The effects of this overflow of emotions is terrifying. In those moments it's all I can think of. It's taunting me like waving it's tiny hands calling 'I'm the only way you will feel better' and I am terrified that I am going to believe him. Sometimes I think I do and there is nothing more dangerous than that. A weak mind can not be exposed to such horrid, dark thoughts. A weak mind is defenseless against such nasty thoughts. I am terrified. I am tired. I am weak. I am terrified. And I don't know what to do about it.

I have decided to use this blog again. I am going to bare my soul because no one has ever been there for me to do that. No one has ever been interested in seeing the real me, in knowing the thoughts in my head, the pain in my heart, and the reasons I became this damaged woman. I am going to write those things on this blog for me, to see if it helps to heal the pain that is still very much inside of me.

Happy Thanksgiving.

On this day of thanks I am thinking of my mother. I am remembering various Thanksgivings with her and how she would spend hours cooking dinner for all of us. As I attempt to cook a meal and fail fairly terribly I think of my mother. I miss her. But I am thankful that I had her.

Nouns and nos

I didn't think about it before but now that you brought it to my attention I can't stop thinking about it. I am really starting to like the idea but I'm afraid it's just the idea that I like and not the noun that goes with it. But the noun is pretty appealing too. When I stop and think about it that is. But there are a lot of verbs and adjectives that aren't so nice that go right along with said noun. I wish I could stop thinking about it because it is seriously driving me crazy. If I try that's a bad idea. If I don't that's generally the way I go. I am curious of how I would be with that noun. Maybe nice? But maybe not? And then there's the other noun that I can't tell if it's referring to me and if so I feel bad. I never asked for this. In fact I'm pretty sure that I have built myself up to be protected from it. What should I do?

November 6th

So, yesterday was the 10 year anniversary of my mother's passing. I truly can not believe that it has been 10 years. It seems like only a few years ago not 10. Often on November 6th I am very sad. I might cry. I might be really depressed. I might be withdrawn. This year I wanted to celebrate my mother's life. I wanted my family to all get together on this one day and talk about my mom. We never talk about our mom. I don't know why. I often feel this overwhelming need and desire to talk about my mom but I don't really have anyone to turn to. If I bring her up I run the risk of hurting everyone else. Yesterday, I didn't cry. I didn't break down. I felt okay. Which is the most ridiculous way to feel on that day. Isn't it? I take some comfort in my reaction. Everyday is another day without my mother. That probably sounds odd. It's just this crazy, awkward, sad, stomach dropping, skin tingling feeling occurs when thinking about my mother being gone so gone, thinking about the ten years that I have faced without her, and the possibility of more years without her. It's sad and difficult. I think my mom would actually be proud of me for not breaking down. I just hope I can keep it up.

It's just crazy that it has been so long.

????

I haven't been writing much lately. I haven't written on this blog, I haven't written stories. I just haven't written. I continuously find myself wanting to write things that belong in a journal and not on a blog for anyone and everyone to see. But I do feel that writing what I am thinking and feeling could help me feel better about them. I want to write about what I feel but I don't want it to sound like I am whining or complaining because that is not my intention. Well, I'll think about it.l

Books have souls to bare, lives to share, and time to spare

Books are the things with feathers
That perches in your soul... (Isn't that what Emily Dickinson said?)

Books are amazing things but they are also dreadful things. Maybe I am the only weird one who feels this way. That is a complete and likely possibility. Each book gives us a glimmer of life for each character.

It permits us to see Chloe fall in love with Derek, in Kelley Armstrong's Darkest Powers Series, even though Chloe doesn't see it herself. "When I thought of Derek leaving, the ground seemed to slide under my feet..."

It shows us the terrible inner struggle that Annabel Greene fights everyday in Sarah Dessen's Just Listen. "There comes a time in every life when the world gets quiet and the only thing left is your own heart. So you'd better learn to know the sound of it. Otherwise you'll never understand what it's saying..."

The words of Lisa Tucker startle us with the horrific truth of Patty Taylor's life in Shout Down the Moon and the mistakes we watch Patty make cause her intense pain that makes us nearly cry. "He grabs the belt loops of my shorts and spins me around. I'm out of breath, but I manage to scream, "Let me go"....."

Lois Duncan's Ransom conjures the emotions of a boy with a underdeveloped arm and lifetime of mental scars. We see Dexter and Jesse push each other away only to realize they understand each other far better than anyone else can. "Jesse sat in silence, gazing down at the boy before her, at the sturdy man's body with the wasted, underdeveloped arm and shoulder no bigger than a child's. So this is the reason, she thought. This is the reason for all the anger, the defensiveness, the bitterness. This is the reason for Dexter Barton..."

The House Next Door oozes Emma's need for understanding, acknowledgement, and love. She's lost in world, beautifully written by Richie Tankersley Cusick, where she longs for the love that makes her feel whole. "I miss the way he loved me. I miss the way I was special to him..."

Our devotion to the ones we love and our desire to keep them safe is expertly portrayed by Joan Lowery Nixon in Murdered, My Sweet. ""I did listen to you," I said. "You promised to protect Mom's reputation, and I believed you..."

Words are immeasurable in the effects they have on people. Good or bad, words have the possibility to inspire a profound reaction. Words put the reader into the world of the character. They allow us to hear, see, feel, and observe the world the character faces. We relate to the emotional state, we endure the painful dialogue, we flinch at the disturbing experiences the characters go through. We compare these lives to our own lives and then we spot the differences. They feelings we've never felt but long to experience in person. The unity we do not have that we crave so badly. The sense of family that we are missing that makes us want to weep. Words are powerful. Words are moving. Words are much more than simple things on paper.