The Good with the Bad

The day began with insomnia

drifted into lateness

and fell into despair

One found dead, the news feed reads

the reaper’s  prize

at last

sorrows grips friends

still other silent cheer the end of the road

two kids in a doctor’s office sick with the flu

 

two strangers cling to life

victims of happenstance

attended by the best

No news is good news or so the fellows say

No news is bad news worries the friends

beloved ones

Victory arrives late

lesson learned, acceptance obtained

a child born

new shoes,  credit extended ,

then end of an abusive relationship

 

No clever words need

or cliques expressed

Just another day

the good with the bad

the bad with good

perspective the only means of definition

 

 

Advertisements

Not A Real Family (April Page 18 )

He’s not your real father.  So don’t expect him to care. She’s not your real kid so don’t expect her to love you. Step-kids aren’t really kids. And Step-parents are just playing a game that they can stop at any time.

But my Papa loves me. He shows me everyday and has always got my back.

Years ago, Papa made a choice to be a father to my siblings and myself. He didn’t have to do it as I have said many times before, but he did and we are a stronger family for it.   My sister and I needed him in more ways than we can count.

Our birth father is a good man, just not an emotional one. He loves us in his own way.  Sometimes however that way is toxic to his children who want love without judgment and strings. Believe when I tell you that your kids need your love more than anything else. They need to show them how to love, how to maintain healthy relationships and how to stick with it.  They also need forgiveness and second and third chances. They need to be told no a times as well.

I know my birth father loves me and is proud of me, but there is a seed of doubt in me when it comes to accepting that it is real.

With my Papa, there is no doubt. None at all.

Last night, I was blessed to be able to take my parents out to dinner for Papa’s birthday which was earlier this week.  It was a new level of adulthood, paying for their dinner without them fretting at me.  Momma told me how proud he was of what I wrote on Tuesday and that he was going to take a copy of it to the family reunion. Some of our northern family has told him that stepchildren aren’t real kids. They have even gone so far as to tell my Papa that we will abandon him if something happens to Momma.

My sister and I aren’t going anywhere. His grandkids, his grandkids, will not abandon him. He is family and he has made us a strong family by supporting us, guiding us and loving us unconditionally.

It is sad that some people have to hate on the happiness of others. I know that our family is unique and not every blended family is like ours, but we work and we are happy. In the end, isn’t that all that should matter.

If you’d like more information on Lucinda’s work subscribe to this blog, follow her on Twitter or like her page on Facebook.  Her new novella, Blood Child is available on Amazon.

Yet Another Manic Monday

This week, I will turn 38 years old. This past weekend, I decided to celebrate my birthday with a party. Why? Why not? Too much of my life in the past year involved going and going with not much enjoying. So a break was in order.

New phonots 070
The crew.

It was a great break.  Friday, I went to EPCOT with my Mom and Aunt.  It was a lazy day, a wonderful day, with two wonderful whom I love more than life itself.  My aunt and my Mom met in college over fifty years ago.  Aunt Joanie may not be my blood aunt but she has loved me from the moment I stepped foot on this earth.  We ate and chatted and just had a good time.  It was well worth taking the day off work and playing hooky as my boyfriend calls it. Saturday was the birthday party and my house was filled with family and friends as well as music thanks to Mr. Kevin aka the Professor.  He gave me a nifty gadget to record my poetry and other story ideas. Sunday was restful and a trip to the beach.  My feet ended up in the ocean.  Something that I love to do whenever I get near the ocean. I felt great right up until I woke up this morning.

Today, I took off job number one, but failed to take off job number two.  Thus, it really was another manic Monday that I wished was a Sunday.  Even if it did begin at 5:30.  Nap time wasn’t productive. I wasn’t productive knowing that I had to go to work. I wander through this day and made no headway on the to-do list or cleaning up the house after a party. (And to be fair, to my guests, there wasn’t much cleaning up that needed to be done, just putting things back in their pre-party places.) Mostly, I just wasted time which lead directly into my mini manic Monday.  I did it to myself. I failed to plan and ended up driving myself  crazy, which isn’t hard to do since my main profession in teaching.

My only regret is not taking the whole day off. Take time for yourselves and don’t cut yourself short.  Take the whole day off  celebrate yourself even if it isn’t your birthday.

Happy Anniversary!!!

Today is the two year anniversary of my first blog posted.

Wow…

Two years.

When I began this blog on the advice of a friend, I didn’t know where it would lead me. I hope it would form the basis of a much larger writing career. This blog has been my laboratory. I have grown as a writer, not just someone planning to write one day.

Last year, the friend who encouraged me to start this blog moved back to New York to pursue his dreams and make a better life for himself and those he loves.  It isn’t easy going in a new direction.  It isn’t easy leaving friends and what you know behind. Words cannot describe how much I love and admire him. He is still taking risks for his dreams and seeing him take those risks and struggle with them makes it easier for me to the same and at the same time appreciate the stories behind the authors and artists that I admire. The words of encouragement that he has for me are so very precious.  He doesn’t have to give them, but he does and I know that he encourages others out there who he believes in. It is an honor to have him in my life.

There are a lot of lessons that I have learned over the last two years and one of them is about my voice as a writer. As a teacher, I always want to educate people.  Writing for me is a different kind of outlet and I find that my teacher voice doesn’t work well in my writing. I don’t like it when I use it. When I take on the voice of my characters, I fall in love with the stories I am writing.

I can’t tell stories like some of the authors I love, but I can tell them.

Blood Child will be birthed this fall come hell or high water; like many first children she is overdue but coming when the time is right. Timing has been perhaps one of my biggest lessons this year.  You can’t wait until the timing is right to start a project and if you fret too much you will never get started; getting started is really the hardest part.  Then you need to finish what you start.

Thank you for being here with me. Thank you for reading my words and giving me feedback.

thank-you-rocks

Are you ready?

There is one question that continually draws my ire.  Are you ready? No, I am not.

I am not ready for school to begin in a week. I am not ready for tomorrow or the next day. They are coming anyway.

Time slips past me and deadlines always loom.

So I am not ready for today or tomorrow, but they are coming anyway.

Good news, bad news. It is coming and I will deal with it when it comes.

That may be too late, but some days that is the best that any of us can do.

Upside Down and Turned About

Life has a way of complicating and un-winding itself all at once, which way it goes is up to the user. Sometimes a day goes both ways at once.

This summer, I have been struggling to finish my first book, make enough money to pay my bills, complete multiple on-line classes and work on other writing projects. I had this idea that I could finish a second book before August.  I haven’t been doing very well or at least I don’t think so.  What I was doing was moving slowly but surely forward.

Then the bottom fell out of my emotional world last Thursday.  Everything seemed hopeless and I slid back into the depression that I have been fighting most of my adult life slammed into me.  I struggled for most the day to get myself together.

My roommate’s husband tip-toed around me as the tears just poured out.  I called the colleague who I am collaborating with on a unit plan and told her that I was sending her what I had and won’t be up to working on it anymore that day.  It was hard, but I just couldn’t text what I needed to say.  I donned thick sun-glasses and when out to run some errands including laundry which really couldn’t wait.

And that is when the narrative changed.  My support system kicked in and even though I am still struggling to figure things out, I feel better equipped now to hand things then I did the last time I was spirit slammed by depression.  And I am writing.

No excuses.

I am writing and I finished a chapter on a project entitled Eden, last night.  It feels good.

My heart still aches and I know that depression is lurking ready to pounce, still, there is something to be said for throwing yourself into work at times like theses and trusting that some how everything will work out.

Second Day of Gratitude

I am grateful for my depression. Grateful for the moments of joy that I feel in between the lows create by years of ugly mental paradigms, negative self-talk and off kilter brain chemistry.

It makes me appreciate the friends new and old who have stuck by my side when my brain has been in a negative loop and I’ve spend too much time dwelling on things I cannot change.  They haven’t punished me for things out of my control and see the woman fighting to get better and healthier as beautiful. They acknowledge my struggle and support me the best way they can.  When I go on too much they tell me or change the subject in a not so subtle way to let me know it is time to give it a rest. Sometimes they tell me where they are so I understand that I am not so alone.

1472978_576704382385047_77682498_nIt makes me appreciate that they aren’t perfect and I can’t expect them to be.  They won’t always have time for me and my problems which also makes me examine those problems a little more closely.  If it is really an emergency then they will be there as soon as they can be. If it is something I can handle on my own I do.  It may be frustrating to them when I don’t reach out when they think I should, but I am getting better at knowing when to ask for help and when I really can do it on my own.

My depression makes me less likely to sweat the little things as it were because my time and my emotions are simply too precious to waste on them. I need to spend my time working on the big picture and the details that really affect it not the other way around. It doesn’t matter if the picture frame is crooked if the roof is leaking. My priorities need to be in line with my goals.

1456009_570488713006614_666406869_n

Smiles are precious things.  So are tears. And I have been learning that sometimes I just need to cry and say whatever ridiculous thing has been twisting my emotions.  Sometimes they are silly. Sometimes they aren’t.  But either way, it is far better to have them out than in.

“In 900 years of space and time, I’ve never meet anyone who wasn’t important before.” From  Doctor Who

And that includes you and me.