First Rejection & Snow

Of the year. And it’s fine, it’s part of the process. It’s fine. I read somewhere once that being rejected just means your story has not found a home yet.

What hurts is that in the midst of the s**t show of the last few years, I lost both my physical log and the computer log of where I had submitted which stories.

In the rejection letter they were absolutely both extremely professional and kind. Especially since I had apparently submitted that story to them in 2021.

Sigh.

So many emotions are swirling in me right now. A morass. Not because of the rejection of the story. It will find its home.

And it hit hard because I’m trying to find my footing in my new home. Most of that is working through the mental state that I arrived in. My home is still in disarray, and when I lay in bed and close my eyes I see my old room. My old life.

Friday night & Saturday morning we experienced our first snowfall that stuck. My son still calls California home. Sunday we went to lunch with my niece & her family, and I borrowed a shirt for a wedding next weekend. Wednesday I put my kid on a plane to our old home to visit– and I’m hoping he gets on the plane back 12 days later. I’m hoping he doesn’t get into trouble.

I’m also looking forward to time without him. Time to make a freaking mess of the house so I can put it together the way I want to.

My words are messy, but they are coming out. I’ve got 2 stories I’m working on because well, messy. I wrote a poem.

I talk to my bestie on the phone everyday. She’s still in Cali, and is my backup with the almost adult boy I’m sending out there. I miss her. I have family here but haven’t made friends yet. I also don’t really go anywhere– haven’t even been to the library yet. I do recognize the cashier at the Dollar General, but I’m sure I’m just another face in the day to her.

Well. This has gotten a lot more personal than I thought it would. Hope you don’t mind. My brain doesn’t feel as messy.

Until next time, my lovelies!

Power of Prayer

I believe in the power of prayer. I understand that gut feeling that you need to help a specific person, or for me, send a certain person a card. There have been so many times that I would go through my address book pick a person and send them a card. There have also been so many phone calls, cards and instant messages telling me that they needed it so badly right there and then, that it came at just the right time.

 

Cool. I have a super-power. Spreading sunshine and love through cards.

 

But this is about the power of prayer.

 

I have a customer, and we’re going to call him Smiley. He’s a real Hot Rod of a guy. He lives on the other side of the country from me. We have never met in person, but we have a really good rapport on the phone. He always ends the call with “Be Blessed.” Which makes me smile.

The first time this happened, there was no way he could have known. I had just received a phone call from my sister. She used to reside in Paradise, CA. and at the moment when Smiley called, I didn’t know if she was alive or dead. He called in an order and at the end of it he said “I don’t know why, but I feel I need to pray over you.” And he did.

It gave me comfort. And then something happened at work, and both the computers and telephones were taken out. So i was able to pray constantly for a while… Until I got the phone call that my sister was safe.

The second time he prayed over me, I had just gotten an email from my son’s school. They were on lock down due to a bomb threat. I was beside myself. I couldn’t go, I couldn’t stay. What was going on? Smiley called, he prayed, and then another email came through. It was apparently part of a nationwide hoax. The police were checking everything out, just to be safe.

We’re going to detour here for a moment away from Smiley to one of my card buddies, T. She sent me a Valentine and wrote “I miss your smile.” and my first, the honest, gut reaction was— I miss it too. So I sat down and wrote her a note about it, and set about trying to correct that.

I’ve started making plans with friends, had a magnificent birthday weekend with Linda and our kids. Made plans for something I really really wanted to do in May and bought the tickets!

 

Friday, Smiley called. This was the only thing we talked about. I think he called specifically for this reason. The following is going to be a paraphrase because it was one of those times when the message was so important that the meaning sank into my heart instead of the words being memorized. He told me something to the effect of “you need to let go of all those things that are draining your energy, that are taking away your joy. You were not put on this earth to be miserable, but to be joyful. Your true purpose, your calling, will fill you with joy,”

 

It kind of knocked me for a loop. I have a calling that I’ve been neglecting, one that I enjoy and that brings joy to others. (2 cards went out today, btw.) I’ve been working on my writing and that is a joyful struggle.

But I had been bad. I was sucked back into facebook and the stupid stupid articles that i was reading just to have something to read. And I don’t know why my google page looks like it does, but it isn’t good stuff to read. I went off facebook for a long time and didn’t miss it too much.

 

But you know, I picked up Anne Lamotte’s Almost Everything before Christmas. Started it and put it back down. I am savoring it now, have been reading it enough that I’m almost through the first 5 chapters. The 6th chapter is on writing— it’s one of those I can’t wait so I’m making myself wait kind of things.

 

But also? I’m finding my smile again.

 

All because of a man who believes in the power of prayer, and in sharing his testimony.

 

 

 

Busy Brain

I’m happy tonight. Bouncing around, music in my head that no one else can hear happy. Busy brain is starting to kick in.

Busy Brain is an anomaly. I don’t tend to like doing a lot of things. After work, I like coming home, getting comfy and being DONE for the day. But there are, unfortunately, only so many books to read or shows to watch before your ass gets covered in moss. I know! It’s so unfair!

I don’t know if I talked about my busy brain idea on here before or not. But… here goes. Way back when I was in college, even doing my Masters Degree full time, working a full time job and a couple of part time ones… I was happy. Bad days, good days, of course. But fundamentally happy.

If you’re happy and you know it….

So. After going through a mild depression, I decided to join Partylite to get myself out of the house and start the busy brain phenomenon rolling. Then, the Princeling and I went on a trip (woohoo! loved it!). A brief pause while I had the stomach flu and then…

I signed up for an online writing class. And am debating taking a certificate program modelled on MFA programs. I want it for the writing, not the degree (already have an MA). So I did my writing assignment, gave feedback to others, posted my assignment and am now busily plotting my weekend.

Which includes laser tag and a Ren fair. WOOHOO!

Work is going well. I’m working on putting up a blog for my job, which is interesting. I’m writing, both fiction and here. I have a few Partylite things going on. I have a busy brain and that brain is happy.

Smiles…

I even did a garbage version of bullet journals for my son and I. I say garbage because I am not into the big expensive leather bound journals. Instead, I made one out of graph comp books. I didn’t do anything too fancy schmancy and we’ll see how that goes. I’ll keep you posted 🙂

I hope you had a great, music in your head bouncing around happy kind of day and are looking forward to a fantastic weekend.

Hey you

Hey you. Yes, you. I see you there. I know you’re scared, and I don’t want to tell you not to be afraid…

And yet…

Here I am. Telling you it’s OK to be scared, but you still have to go on. Maybe it’s something you’ve wanted for a long time, something positive even, but it’s such a huge change that you’re scared to death. 

It’s OK. Let’s breath through it. We will make it to the other side, and you might even wonder after all is said and done why you were so scared. You might even feel a bit silly, but that’s OK too. I’ve been there.  You’ve been there too, so remember to just breath. And maybe giggle a little. 

It releases tension.

Truly. 

And even if it’s not ok, I’ll sit with you on the darkest night and light a candle for you. Call me and I’ll just breath on the other end letting you know I’m there. Maybe it won’t be ok again today, or tomorrow….

But things will be ok again. And after they’re ok again, you’ll be able to search for the good days. The awesome days. 

You’re not quite ready to believe in them, but they’re out there. So I will hold the dream for the both of us.

Plans go awry

I have the house to myself.  The Princeling is with his father, and my father is off on a road trip. This almost never happens. I don’t think I’ve been alone in the house for this long of an extended period in…. well. Since becoming a mom.

I had plans. 

Grand plans.

Writing and crafting and this ingredients and thating.

Instead, I’ve been binge watching Say Yes to the Dress on Hulu (nope, no plans to ever get married lol). And sleeping. I fell asleep at 7pm last night. I wake up at 4pm, so that’s not as bad as it sounds.

But I haven’t been writing. I’ve been perking and idea, and I’ll have to start it soon. I have an essay or 2 that I want to write, and a market I want to submit Sins of the Mother to. 

Part of it all is just getting back to it. I know I do better, mental health wise, when I’m busier. I’m OK right now, but I’m trying to keep the darkness at bay. I had a Scentsy party and thought to myself I can do that. But I prefer Partylite Candles. The reasons are a whole other post worth, but they are important to me.

Thankfully, I know a Partylite consultant who has a team (hi Christie!). She is the mother of one of the Princeling’s very best friends. So I’m gonna get myself busy with a product I love, meeting new people and also getting over my fear of public speaking. She tried to get me to sign up right after the holidays, but I was in the middle of my rough patch. It would have helped, but I was too far in to see that.

Yes. I am a walking contradiction. The busier I am, the more I write. With the Princeling going with his father more often… I need something to keep myself busy so my brain will wake up. If I can get a product I love, meet new people and get a little travel money to boot?

Yah. We’re going to try this. 

 

Little Boys, Elderly Parents & Friends with Depression

The Poetry Edition

I recently had a phone call, where I was told that I am a natural “mothering” type of person. I like to take care of everyone, nurture them, all that good stuff. But I also need to learn to let go, to remember that not every battle is mine to fight, and sometimes people need to grow on their own. Mother and Smother are very close.

Last weekend, I broke a glass. I told the Princeling to stay out. Except, he didn’t. He calmly put on his shoes, gave me mine, then went to get the big dust pan. I swept up, and he picked up the larger pieces of glass and placed them carefully in the dust pan. The entire time, I was biting my tongue trying to keep the words behind my teeth.

Don’t do that! You’ll cut yourself! I don’t care if I bleed, but I can’t stand it when you do! What actually came out of my mouth was Be Careful.

He took the dust pan out, emptied it in the garbage can, and we went on. Except, you know… It hit me. My son is growing up. Helping. Taking care of me, even when it’s not all roses and sunshine.

Roses have thorns, and sunshine can burn, so I guess there really is no safe way to allow him to grow and never get hurt.

It was a broken glass. No drama, no life coming to an end. But something happened, and he came and helped his mom. Even if my neck muscles tightened as he helped me.

Then there’s my dad. I love my dad. He’s my hero, and one of my best friends. He’s still regaining what he lost, but he’s home. He’s walking with the help of a walker, and starting out with a cane. He does his exercises regularly, and enjoys going out. Nothing’s going to stop him.

Especially not a paranoid daughter.

He went out to the garage to wait for my son’s bus (which was late). Ok, fine. Except… When he first came home, I was trying to get someone to make a dump run for all the crap in there that has to go. His old recliner (replaced with mine), and old toilet (I know, I KNOW!), some wood and a broken lawn chair.

And dad went out into that mess to wait for my son.

You know, the mess that I’m afraid will kill me, let alone my father?

I can deal with him walking out to the mail box. He’s doing more and more and more every day. But that garage scares me. Now, I know my dad is a tough old war bird. He’s 89 and of sound mind. I need to let go, and let him be. I also called and rescheduled that dump run. I’m done waiting for it.

Done!

So that takes care of the two closest to me. But then, then… there’s my friends. I’ve touched before on the fact that I have had situational depression. It is nothing compared to what they go through, their struggles. I have no idea what they go through every day, one still in the midst of it and one keeping the delicate balance of not sliding back in.

There really is only one way to try and express my feelings about it. As a person who loves someone living with mental illness.

It took three tries.

Three.

A magical number.

Poem 1:

Tell the demons I’m here to stay,
There is no playground
For them to frolic
I locked the gate-
Threw away the key.
I smiled at each
And every
single
one
as my blade
shaped by love
Conviction
Strength
Love
Friendship

Pierced them
One
by
bloody
one

Until all heed
My battle cry
Be gone!

Yah, I loved that poem. Kick ass, it is. It’s also patently false. I cannot see, feel or fight their demons for them. It’s what I’d love to do. But I can’t fight their battles. They have to fight them on their own. No matter how much it kills those of us that love them.

Poem#2

I will hold the sword
as you ready for battle
I will hold the line
as tightly as I can
while you don your
armour piece by piece
Don’t forget the heart
Never forget the heart

I will walk with you by your side,

step
by
bloody
step
through the garden of your demons.
Although~
I feel helpless
and afraid
for this is a battle
you must fight

Why can’t I slay
               them for you?

I will stand beside you offering what I may.

This second one feels truer than the first, but it is also a pretty lie. We can’t walk with them, can’t help in so many ways. I can’t make the fear and depression go away even if I’m right there with them. It feels like there is no way at all to  do anything to help our loved ones. We want the battle to be fought and won, but that’s not how it works.
But there is something we can do. Even though it kills us. We, the nurturers, the mothers, made by God to help…. It feels so often as if we are failing them, failing ourselves.  But we’re not…

Poem #3 Sojourn

I cannot wield the sword
To destroy your demons
I cannot walk this mile
In your shoes…

Nor any other.

The tangled leaves blowing
Through your depression
Are a mystery to me.

So I sit here,
Quietly,
Holding a candle
That it might…

Maybe…

Possibly…

Send a glow of warmth
On your cold sojourn back.

I love you, my friends. I’ll try to keep lighting that candle: whether it’s with notes or phone calls or visits. I will always have a candle going for you.

© 2015 Wynelda Ann Deaver All Rights Reserved

Hello Darkness, my old friend

I have in the past suffered from what I call situational depression. In the past, it has reared it’s ugly head when I was unemployed. All the classic signs of depression– excessive tiredness, not wanting to do anything. Every day, being overwhelmed with the feeling of hopelessness. The stoppage of writing.

Something has been bothering me for a while.

The symptoms were there.

I chose not to see them.

Because I’m working. It can’t be the same situational depression if I’m working, can it? Well…. apparently, yes, it can. So I sat down with my dad on Saturday morning and had a long heart to heart with him about what’s going on. He didn’t offer advice— by this point I knew what was going on.

I started making the changes that I need to make to feel better. One of them was admitting and recognizing what the problem is. It’s not something that will go away over night, but it is something I can work on. I have to work through the feelings of inadequacy to do that… But hey.

I can do that.

One of the nice upswings of this edition of my old friend D. is that I am still writing. I am still getting up and moving. I go to work every day, make it through the day. Even though I get home and collapse, I still get back up and do dinner and homework with the prince. I’ve also been working on other projects that help push it away bit by bit.

This time is different. I am going to break this cycle.

I am more than this.

If i keep telling myself that, and taking the steps I need to…. Maybe I’ll be able to step back out into the light. Nope, I take it back. I’ll be able to step back into the light more quickly.

Tomorrow, I’ll be back at the writing posts with a guest post from my fellow pirate, Steven! He was nice enough to do an author interview of moi, which you can find here.

Talk to you soon, my lovelies! Be kind to one another

Pregnancy Depression

There are movies that hit the nail on the head, or in the heart. The movie Waitress was one of them for me. Our situations were different… but yet the same emotion. (And no, I didn’t cheat no matter how horrible it got.)

When people ask me why I haven’t had another baby, I just smile and say I’m too old. The truth is I was so depressed during my pregnancy that I wanted to crawl into a cave and die. I didn’t believe that I was going to come out of the situation with a baby, and to be honest at the time I wasn’t sure I wanted to bring a child into the situation I was in.

Add to that the fact that I gained exactly 36 pounds. The size of my mom’s tumor and excess water that they removed right before she died— and yeh. I hated being pregnant.

Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe it was the hopeless situation. I don’t know. But I am satisfied with my One and Only and have no desire for another.

And a good part of that is the fact that I was so…. Hopeless while pregnant. You hear all the time about post partum depression, but never about pregnancy depression. Am I alone here? Did anyone else go through that?

Everything changed once I came off the vicodin from the C-section. I fell in love and haven’t regretted it one iota.  He captured my heart and still has hold of it in one little fist.

But I wonder— if I did get pregnant again. Would I be as depressed? Is it something about the hormones? Or was it the situation? And do I really want to take that chance again?