FU, Cold.

As I was preparing to leave a horrible shift at the diner, a small tickle hit the back of my throat. Then, I started to cough. After some time, my nose began to run, and all I could think was how fitting it was to start a cold at the end of a equally nasty day.

It was my Friday and my immune system could care less. That night, I slept in an anxiety ridden sleep. I woke with the hopes of doing all my tasks, only to be defeated by a stupid cold.

Today, the cold still lingures, but I refuse to let another day pass where I do absolutly nothing.

Last week I blogged about my supreme organizing skills for a new book I am writing. Which can be found at Chanillo. I am part of a writing group called Ninja Writers, (it can be found on FB). Each day, for the 31 day writing/reading challenge, I get an email from the creator of the group telling us what each day brings. Last week, I printed out these goal sheets for the book. Beacause of my cold, I have yet to write in them, but I did want to show them off.

Just a list of books I am going to write. Yay for number 1!Page 4Page 3Page 2Page 1 of book organizing. My printed motivation. The Book Cover. Don't take it, bitches. It's mine.

This is an exciting journey, and I am happy to have you here with me.

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I’m Trying – A Lot

What a morning. It isn’t even 10 am and I’ve already felt very overwhelmed. My anxiety is hitting me hard today. But alas, I must move forward while I have a few minutes of peace.

I was starting to blog today about some really cute items I picked up at Micheals. Then the anxiety started sinking in. I had to stop to regroup before I exploded and everyone around me became a victim.

If you have anxiety (you do not suffer from it), you know it can be hard to regroup. Luckily, I have my dog. He helps me find my center.

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Today’s focus wasn’t about my anxiety, though. It just ended up being all I could think about at the moment. What I really came here to tell you about is my top-notch, over the top, organizing skills. Here’s what I acquired at Micheals. I spent too much money, but oh, it’s so cool.

I pretty excited about my new things. Hopefully, I can get my life on track and keep up with what I pretend to be: a normal, functioning adult who loves shiny things, and her dog.

How do you keep organized?

Oh Yeah… Again

Yesterday I blogged about my amazing accountability notebook. I have been so involved with my notebook and starting this novel, that I forgot about real life, and in real life, you have to pay bills and be an adult. Well who’s managing that for me?

Oh right… me. Shit.

So I forgot to pay a few hundred bills, and… well…. shit.

Well, while writing inside my accountability notebook, we will call it, The Responsible One, I reminded myself, or perhaps it did, to take responsibility over my other life.

So today, I entered a couple of notebooks that have been collecting dust, (sorry notebooks).

I purchased these at Micheal’s. I love them. Though not enough to use them on a regular since I purchased them two years ago.

But alas! They have returned to keep me slightly productive, and almost completely organized. They can only do so much. They are just notebooks, you know.

However, now I think I need a bigger binder.

Here is to keeping organized, keeping my bills paid, keeping my credit score at average, (no one likes an over achiever), and to keeping me sane, because that’s the most important attribute.

And. Here. We. Go.

Oh Yeah

Obviously, I love to write. Lately, I’ve been succeeding in keeping myself organized.

I’ve downloaded Grammarly to keep me in check. I’ve been participating in a writing challenge, and I’ve been pretty diligent.

The most important thing about the challenge is how it makes you think creatively.

It asks you to write 10 ideas. Let me tell you, writing 10 ideas every day is difficult. I’ve labeled mine 10 impossible things. Since writing 10 ideas is nearly impossible.

However, today, while doing the impossible, I thought – what’s the point of writing all this down if I don’t get something out of it.

So today, I challenge myself to go back to my impossible ideas every month and act on the best ones and even the not so great ones.

Let’s see what I can do.

Also, on a side note, I wrote some for my upcoming book which you can subscribe to on Channillo

It’s going to be amazing. I can’t showcase the work here, but here are some pictures of me being productive.

I gave myself a hulk sticker because I deserve it.

Happy Writing!

Thanks A Lot

Do you ever have so much going on at once that you’re not sure what’s up and what’s down?

That’s me right now. I’m a highly organized person, but I still have trouble staying on track.

However, I was introduced to an idea called an Accountability Folder. It has really helped me and it’s also helped me see how lazy I am.

Nonetheless, I am doing it. Here’s some photos. How do you keep organized?

It’s Tough

I saw an email today that talked about how writing was hard.

I agree.

It’s a hard habit to get into. Much harder than all my other vices. I have to yell at myself. Get my self away from everything else. I can’t write while I’m doing something. I need time and a small batch of solitude.

I started this 31 day challenge to write everyday, and it’s hard.

But what’s harder is how I am toward myself.

So here’s to letting go, finding peace, and a place to let my fingers type and my brain be free.

Day 5: Losing Control

What will I do?

What will I say?

How will I get

Through this day?

My thoughts are spinning

Much too fast

How long will the feeling

Last. It can’t last.

I feel my skin peeling

Please say it’s there

I feeling my head reeling

As I pull out my hair

My heart races faster

As it beats through my chest

My head throbs in conjunction

I wish I could rest

My eyes start to water

My throat starts to shrink

My space is getting smaller

Please help me think

It’s all spinning faster

I’m losing control…

This poem is a look into the mind of someone with anxiety. Often, I deal with panic attacks brought on by PTSD (no, I wasn’t in a war. You can get PTSD from other traumas too).

Lately, I am increasingly overwhelmed and I am triggered more easily. I write to find solace and to bring awareness.

Thank you for reading.

An Ugly Game

It’s cold. An unbearable chill. Ceasing my existence. I can’t breath. I feel my muscles clenching, trying to create warmth; failing. Water flows from my eyeballs, freezing on my cheeks upon impact. It isn’t me who is crying about my situation, it’s my body. My emotions are frozen. Locked into my soul which is escaping; the only thing smart and brave enough to set itself free. Minutes pass like hours as the sun sets and the black clouds crawl across the sky. The wind increases. The Earth falls silent. The last tear falls, reaching the corners of my mouth. A fighter, unlike myself. I am cold until nature warms the soil. By then, it will be too late.

It seems amazing how one sentence can form into a group or a even a thousand groups of words. One sentence can nag at me for hours until I set it free, or I don’t. When I do not, the guilt sets in and I tell myself I could be writing with all my free time. Instead, I look at my phone for hours; submitting my self to the lazy side of life. It’s easy. Easier than trying, than working, than giving myself a chance.

I fall victim, but I am not a victim. I am the criminal. I am the one who sabotages. I hold myself for ransom. The price is high, nothing I can afford, so I torture myself to compensate for not getting what I want.

It’s an ugly game. I play it everyday.

It’s a habit now. Nothing changes when we secretly want it to stay the same.

I’m trying my hardest to break my habit. I remind myself of what I could be doing. I am trying to change the way I think. It isn’t easy. I suppose it never is.

I am good, in my own way. I have had my share of praises and failures. I am okay with this. I try to remember all the positives. Oddly, it’s the positives that scare me. I am stricken with the “what ifs” of success.

When I stop, I ask myself why. What stops me from being driven? The answer is simple and yet complex. Unfortunately, I don’t have the answer, and if I did, I would stop myself from answering.

I write this week about anxiety, failure, success, and the drive to get everything I want, if only I would let myself grow.

Anxiety is what keeps me cold, frozen in my own cycle of self-destruction. I am my own criminal in storm created by my own self-doubt, my own anxiety.

I thought of the first sentence today because I was, in fact, cold. It led me to my own self-realization. A story that transformed.

My only way out is to write. An ironic twist in my own hands of fate.

Anxiety – My Ultimate Demise

It happens every time. I cry, I feel something, and I write. It’s just that I am so fucking stressed. I am not coping well and I really do not know what to do. So here I am, contemplating all that I am. My finances, my job, my assists, my life. I am not alone. I know this. There are some who are much less fortunate than me. I have a place to stay. I have people that care. I have a job. It’s one of the most unstable jobs I’ve ever had next to dancing on a pole, but I do have a job.

It’s what’s next that I can’t stand. I hate it because I have no idea what “it” is.

I ponder. I probably ponder too much. Overthinking will be my demise. It’s why I can’t finish projects. It stands in the way of my success and welcomes failure with open arms. “Hello OverActive Brain. What shall we burn today?”

There is something I need to do and I stop myself from doing it because it exposes too much – an oozing open wound I am ferociously trying to heal. It is a project, an idea inspired by a new friend and idle talk. It needs to grow, but it also need to flourish. My brain will not let it. After all the inspiration leaves, I’ll be left with pondering of what could have been.

If you were ever curious about what anxiety must be like, this is it. Read this. Read between the lines. Open yourself to interpretation. Anxiety hinders my every being. I often can overcome, but anxiety will never let me succeed. It will let me settle. I’ll write metaphorically about my life and what it could have been. It will never subside to let out who I really am. I will forever be trapped by the constraints of my mind. Tortured by my own grief.

If this is how it is supposed to be, perhaps I can just give in and learn how to cope.

Perhaps one of my loyal readers has some advice.

It Sucks

It’s been a while. In fact, any piece you have read lately is just a repost. I haven’t had the drive . It sucks. Many of us go through a dry spell, but mine has lasted over a year. It sucks. I have spells of wisdom ever so often. My mind creates a great idea and I run with it for about a week, then I stop. It sucks. What can I possibly accomplish. I am my friend’s quilts. Start one, put it down, never come back. I’m a closet full of quilts. Except for me, it’s a warehouse. I need a forklift and that’s not pretty.

Writing can often seem like a chore. Something I am forced to do. However, no one is forcing me to do anything. Except myself and I hate listening to that nag. Bla, bla, bla. That’s all I hear. She’s annoying. But I need her to tell me what to do. If she would actually shut up, I’d lose all ambition. I’d be gone.

I talked to my ex-husband today. The conversation gave me closure. We talked about who I am, who he knew I was(am), and how he hoped I was happy because I deserved it. He deserves it too. It made me think about how I may have used him as an excuse to not write something that has been plaguing me. I did. Now, I wont. I can write that story. I will write that story. It’s about who I am; who I have always been.

It sucks, but it’s an amazing journey. To write about it will help me more than I may be prepared for and it will help others in the same way.

I’m so glad I talked to him. I am so thankful for my friends who give never ending support. They are the ones who give me the strength.

I can’t say it here. Not everyone I love knows.

You’re smart. You get it. Keep it to yourself. When the time is right, the world will know. They will say, “you know what? Good for her”, or “you owe me money.” Some will not be happy; the ones who say they love me. They will never understand. It will never be okay. That is their demon to struggle with and mine to let go when they know the truth. I don’t want this demon anymore. It has nearly killed me. It has affected me in every aspect of my life. It has always kept me running, searching, lying, and never living my truth. It has kept me in denial. It sucks.

I don’t want it to suck anymore – literally and figuratively.

That's my demon. He keeps me silent and bound. One day, I'll break free.