When People Who Should Know You, Don’t

So,

Four years ago I wrote a post about how I felt about suicide here and recently I’ve had to re-evaluate my thoughts on suicide in general.

When I wrote that post I was high on the anger that devastation leaves behind and I’m not sure I entirely subscribe to that thought anymore.

I do still believe suicide leaves those behind damaged in ways that can never really heal but there’s some kind of desolation in choosing the nothingness of death to the misery of life that should not be snubbed to oblivion.

When I heard that Chester Bennington died I was so incredibly sad I actually cried,on my way to work, with my poor husband not knowing whether I should just go home and deal with my feels first before facing the world or stopping in traffic to let me sob it out. I hadn’t listened to Linkin Park in a hot minute but I remembered when I felt I needed to escape from my own demons with their music. I texted a friend and told her that I was feeling really down by it and there’s a tattoo I’ve been putting off getting because… Who knows? Reasons, anyway, I told this friend I want to get my tattoo and somehow she read ‘on my forehead’ and not ‘on my forearm’ for this tattoo but didn’t express concern and that struck me as odd, very odd.

Here’s the thing, I’m not generally an ‘exhibistionist’. I can’t even commit to colouring my own hair and this friend has known me for something like ten years but somehow didn’t find it odd that I was planning on getting a forehead tattoo (in her mind). I don’t wear heels too often coz I think it causes too much sway in my hips (which on their own attract attention and I don’t want to deal with consequences of the extra motion) but somehow I will get a forehead tattoo? In case I’m missing the point here, I don’t generally do attention but a forehead tattoo is on my bucket list?

In her defence we haven’t seen each other in years and keep in touch online but this is someone I would send messages to about my fear of sexy heel purchases and I believe conservative is one of the words she would use to describe me but somehow forehead tattoo, yup, fits in your narrative and nothing to be concerned about even though we started off talking about suicide.

This isn’t an attack on her but my own evaluation of this interaction, certain things are more important to me than they are to her and vice versa.

The reason I mention this is because we don’t always know when we have ignored what could be a cry for help/attention or just plain company. After this interaction I was torn between feeling I was selfish and feeling that she didn’t know me enough to know that I was exhibiting a trait that should be concerning and also why I was spending so much time obsessing over it.

Here’s the thing, at the end of the day we don’t know how our interactions affect other people or worse, what that interaction is adding onto because no one knows your life. I was fortunate to have other people to talk to and they helped me sort out ‘my feels’ but a lot of people don’t have alternative people and these bruises can add up but you find some way to distract yourself and it feels like a kind of outlet but then you get a few more scrapes and the injuries are deeper because those people should know better.

My takeaway is this, try and actually listen to people you are conversing with. I’m trying to do it myself because sometimes I’m more focused on what my response should be rather than what I am actually hearing.

Doesn’t mean you have to over analyse everything, sometimes you are better off breaking up with people but we all need atleast one person that puts a salve on those wounds when the world Knicks us and when we can’t those cuts get infected to a point where we are trying help.

Be present to the people you actively choose to spend your time on otherwise, what’s the point really?

I’m still formulating an update to the suicide post but I don’t have the words yet.

Let me know if you’ve been baffled by the ignorance of people who should know you better?

O&O

On Celebrating Wins

So…

Recently I ran a giveaway for On Indi’s Pillow and originally I planned (mostly hoped) on giving away 100 copies. I didn’t schedule any advertising because it was really just for me to get in front of more eyeballs with the hope of harvesting some reviews. I beat that target on Day 1 which made me then figure I could give away 500 copies.

I didn’t.

And it bummed me out big time.

It made me forget that I beat my original target and that this was an experiment to see what ‘works’ and what doesn’t in terms of the whole eyeball thing.

I know I need to write more books, I know I need to fix Indi even more. I have an idea for a friendship story next but I still have another mother-daughter thread that won’t leave me alone so obviously I need to figure that out more.

I don’t yet know what stories I want to tell other than ‘all of them’ which really isn’t a great starting point when you have the attention span of a goldfish.

The biggest lesson I did learn though was I really need to learn how to celebrate my wins. I’ve given away 473 books on Amazon (and 4 outside the environment for people that couldn’t get it there).

We can always do better but let’s enjoy what we can do now.

Does anyone else out there beat themselves up more than they pay themselves on the back?

O&O

Goodbye Chester

Thank you for giving me music that made life a little brighter and less lonely.

#ripChester

Making Time

So…

They say you make time for what matters to you and if you don’t then it doesn’t matter.

I don’t know how many people I’ve told “I’m a writer“. In bold and when they ask for more details I fluff about in a response because I haven’t written enough to really know the answer to that question.

Recently I published my first book and I think it’s terrible… Maybe not terrible terrible but it needs a lot more work and i haven’t made time to fix it. On top of that I have a slew on reasons why i cant do anything about it and I’m afraid if i unpublished it that I will never publish anything again because I will have failed.

On Indi’s Pillow was a present to myself. An internal promise I made to finish something. Starting has never been a problem. I’m a gibbering lil rabbit with ideas but knuckling down and following through… Not as much. Unless I know I’m going to be good at it.

I don’t think I’m good now, but i cant change without doing more, so where is the logic in just watching my beautiful cover gain a bad track record?

I don’t have any answers but I was curious  what any of you are struggling to make time for? What burning desire aren’t you feeding? And if you know why, why?

On Indi’s Pillow

My first baby!

So…

In 2016, I told myself I would write a book. Sadly, I did what I do every other year and I started three different ones without finishing any of them.

But I had a goal that I would publish something so I bought a pre-made covers from Go On Write (you really should check them out) for a short story that was previously published and planned on putting together an anthology of works that I had actually already previously published and was available on my DeviantArt page and I was going to throw in my previously published short story ‘Wings on Indi’s Pillow’ but as I started working on it I realised there was more of a story and I wanted the best version possible to exist in the world.

On 25th November 2016 I threw up a preorder on Amazon that you can find here.  I did this without finishing my book (talk about pressure) but knowing that with an external deadline I would be more motivated to finish it than any other project and I was mostly right. What I didn’t count on was how much I needed to do to make it the best version of the story possible.

In my original version of the story, I had a woman dealing with an interracial relationship and a ‘difficult’ mother-daughter relationship. As I worked on the project, Indi turned out to be handling an unwanted pregnancy too and the tone of the story changed into something quirkier and less ‘serious’ than the original story. I’m not exactly a funny person but hopefully my quirkiness comes through in the pages.

My goal with the new version of the story was to publish on or by the time I turned 31 (12th January by the way) but I want to do more than simply fling something up online and call myself a ‘published author’. I want to build a career with this and I can’t do that if my first story is sub-par and readers get a negative experience. Why add more bad story telling to the world? There is a lot of competition not only on Amazon but in general for poeple’s time and I want people who give me their time to receive something that I believe is the best thing I can give them so I have put myself in pre-order purgatory and pushed my publication date back to 1st February instead.

I struggled with that decision because it feels like a fail and I am letting down the few people that took a chance on it but looking at the read-throughs and feedback I still need to feel content that the book is an actual good story in its best condition it needs more time.

My goal has changed from simply publish to build a foundation for a creative career. I may lose the few pre-orders I gained and I truly wish I could apologize to them personally but I can only wring my hands over but I believe this is the best thing for me to do to make sure its the strongest first block in my new creative career.

O&O.

 

Plodding Along

So…

It’s been a while.

Sorry for neglecting my cyber turf yet again. I’ve been trying to sort out what kind of person I want to be in the real world. Since I’ve basically hinted at my people pleasing and general professional dissatisfaction I won’t rehash it.

Today I took a step I started to believe I would never take. I hit publish (for a pre-order), tying me down to delivering a finished product at least 3 days before my birthday.

Here’s the thing, the older you get, the more rational your choices have to become. You have to do responsible things like buy a house and have health insurance. All great things but they lull you into a false sense of security.

I have one friend who’s health hasn’t been great and although I don’t tell her often it makes me think of my own death,of what I will leave behind when I’m gone and so far that feels like a hunking slab of nothing which is depressing. I have another friend who’s having trouble making a connection with her boyfriend after a whole bunch of misunderstandings and (because I’m a self centres person) I have to look at my own life and ask if I’m being the most positive version of myself in my relationship and the answer is ‘I could do better’.

Why am I saying all this?

We forget that we all have our own paths to follow and while one friend may travel the world on a regular basis and I consider that one of my ultimate goals in life,that’s not my lot now and that’s okay.

There’s always a struggle that the next person is going through and sometimes we are close enough to know what that is and others we aren’t.

I believe that we learn what we can from the people around us and use the lesson for whatever it’s purpose is. If jealousy drives you to achieve more, have at it! If it makes you start slashing your wrists then you have to take a step up. Life should ‘grow’ you and not diminish you.

Cut out everything that makes you smaller and nurture only that which makes you bigger.

O&O

It’s Not Me, It’s You.

Image from CreateHerStock

So…

This #teacherbae thing.

Who has never had a crush on a teacher before? I for one know I have had plenty of pre-teen and adolescent crushes. Very few of them had anything to do with how the teacher was dressed, but I’m a creepy girl I’m told.

Paris Monroe is an attractive woman and has a body type that ‘attracts attention’. I remember when my curves were just starting to come in, the first thing my mother told me about them was to cover them up. Other people will have a problem with my body and I should always make sure other people aren’t offended by my presence. As a good daughter I abided by this ‘cover up rule’ even when I didn’t necessarily agree with it.

I understood that if someone did something to me because of how I looked then it was my fault for looking that way. That may not have been what my mother meant me to learn but that is burned into my brain and its going to take a lot longer for that little missile of wisdom to leave me. When I was in 9th grade, there was a teacher in another class who wore heels to work. Heels! The scandal she caused. Then it was the pencil skirts and fitted blouses. This heathenous woman was taking children’s minds off their school is what the adults around me said often. My mum was also a teacher and when you hang out in her classroom after hours they forget you are there and chat away without any filters.

Here’s the thing though, her classes passed. Young girls wanted to be as bad assery as her, young boys saw another version of what a woman could be. Why would these things be bad? Why do we feel the need to save women from themselves? If a woman chooses to wear a bodycon dress or an abaya should be up to her.

Why shouldn’t a teacher be trendy if thats what she’s passionate about? Other body types wear the same outfit without the same ‘effect’ so we need to distinguish what is appropriate and what we perceive and infer.

That’s what I would like to take away, if a woman wants to wear a shift that covers her whole shape then she should be able to. If she wants to wear a slinky number then that should be her choice too.

If she’s terrible at her job, chances are her outfits wont change that.

O&O

Where Do They All Go?

 I'm Going Far and Wide
I’m Going Far and Wide

So…

The title I really wanted to use was a question Tyrion Lannister asks himself after his father “sends away” Tyrion’s wife. I remember reading it and my heart had all the feels for poor Tyrion but I don’t know that its an appropriate question for a heading. Especially after such a long break.

How have y’all been? I have to be honest I’m not sure I’ve been entirely alright because it feels like I’m ‘not where I should be’? Yes, I know, this isn’t new and I apologise for being so self absorbed right now but I think I need to purge my brain of all the negatives its hoarding.

First off. Life is good. I really cant fault that I am blessed/lucky/privileged. In fact if I weren’t such a greedy sod I would probably be very content but I am a greedy sod and I want more than just ‘contentment’.

I’m stuck on what ‘happens next’ in my life because I want to be self sufficient and control my own time while determining its value. I hate the fact that I work for a single payment at the end of the month that I cant adjust or negotiate and yet I pour way more time than I signed up for to ‘earn it’. As much as I hate to admit it, it irks my soul.  I don’t think I’m a perfectionist. I’m way too messy and comfortable with dirt in my life for that but I am ‘ambitious.’

What I’ve discovered is, my ambition is not traditional and I live in a generally traditional part of the world. That means you work hard in an organisation so you get promoted high enough that you no longer have to work hard but still get paid plenty (and no one messes with your parking).

The problem is, what I want is to faff about till 10 in the morning, work like a beast till 6 in the evening, play house until 10 that evening and still have enough energy to work like a beast till 2 in the morning. I cant do that in a traditional setting.

Recently an opportunity came upo at my previous work place that would have been a definite step up, twice the pay, additional perks. I brushed up my CV thinking, ‘yeah, I can definitely do the job’. Then I stared at a blank page that was my motivational letter. I wrote down a schpiel about how I both lead and participate in teams (true), I’m self motivated (true) and then I got stuck at trying to convince the reader that I would be the best person for the job. Not because I didn’t believe that I was. While I believe I can do the job I dont believe I can live and breathe it without feeling a whole bunch of negatives about it. I’d be a beast at acing things that matter to the bigger picture but make me feel even less of myself.

What I want is to commit to something that I can live and breathe without feeling shitty about the lil pieces of of me I lose to my work.

I never sent an application in and someone else got the job and they seem like a good fit. A few weeks later I met a woman who literally loves her job and doesn’t mind that she can spend 12 hour days at the office, go home and read more so she’s ahead of her curve and still think about her work on the weekends!

Normally I’d tear myself up with coulda woulda shoulda but I didn’t this time. The logical part of my brain would say ‘Of course she loves her job, she makes a truckload’, but that isnt it. Money is great. I want more of it. But I want a certain quality of life more.

Maybe I’m finally giving myself permission to be the version of myself that the little girl I once was has always wanted to be.

Thanks for indulging me!

O&O.