As A Little Child, I Liked To Dance In The Rain...

Now as an adult, it seems as if it rains forever.

I'm pretty good at making the most out of a draining situation, but the last 4 months or so have just taken a toll on me. My mental and emotional state seem shaky and my weight has slightly gone up. I don't know what any of it means, but it seems neverending as of late.

I know that there's a silver lining to my cloud, because I can feel it.

Anyway, it's the strangest thing to be honest. I didn't want to write about anything for a little bit of time and now I want to write about everything. But that's not what makes it strange. The other day, I wrote a two page poem titled "The Hood" and once I was done, I realized that I didn't want to share it. I'm noticing that a lot lately with many of my other poems that I have written in the last few weeks; that I don't want to share them. I don't want people to see them or read them even. I almost feel compelled to keep them from myself. Now THAT'S strange.

It could be that I don't like the way that it was written, or the style that I used, or the tone that I used, or even the amount of truth that I used. Hmm... Maybe it's the amount of truth because as I get older, with every poem that I write, the more "truth" I put into it. Not just "truth" either, a cold hard slap into reality. My Reality. And because they are my poems, the reader is the one being slapped by my words. My outlook on, well, everything...

I am seriously not sure that anyone, not even myself, is truly ready for that outlook yet...

No Truer Words Have Been Spoken...

Than the ones that I read right here:

"When we can no longer change a situation we are challenged to change ourselves." - Viktor Frankl

Everything that has happened to me in the last couple of months were a series of events that at one point could have been avoided, but when that point passed, then it was up to me to look within myself and find a strength that I didn't realize was there.

Multiple times I felt like my world was crumbling down around me. Continuously, I wanted to give up. No longer looking at waking moments as blessings but as burdens. My will and strength were starting to collapse and there was nothing that I was willing to do about it. That's when it hit me; how can I claim to be so strong in my faith but yet I'm willing to throw the towel in when the load became too much for me to bare? It was then that I realized that because I couldn't change the situation, that I had to change myself and with that, I "gave up".

"Giving up" doesn't make you weak, it shows that you were strong enough (especially in your faith) to "Let Go and Let God". - La Kata E.K.

I always feel that when you change your outlook on a situation then the situation changes, yet somehow I allowed the situation to change me; therefore, changing my outlook on everything. I'm not proud of where my thoughts were leading me and I admit that it wasn't one of my finer moments, but I can promise that it will not happen again.

It's strange though, that throughout it all, I couldn't collect my thoughts well enough to express my emotions through my writing. It worries me that I am becoming more guarded than I usually am and especially against myself. I mean, is that even possible? I don't know, but I need to find my mental middle ground so that I can do the one thing that's always been a guarantee to make me feel better...

A Blue Pen Comes From A Depressed Soul

And it's true. I have had an interesting couple of months and though I'm still here, it hasn't been easy.

Everything that could go wrong, has. As much as I want to write about EVERYTHING going on in my life, I can't. More or less, I won't. All the anger that I've been feeling and the sadness that has consumed me, isn't something that I'm comfortable sharing with myself, let alone the world. (Chuckles) Imagine that, words that I won't share with others. Yes, it's that bad...

I can't even think right now because my mind isn't clear enough to articulate my thoughts. How crazy is that.?! I'm trembling as I am typing because even this admission is too much exposure for me, but I want to get some of this out. So if I'm not going to write about it as a poem, then I will write about it in my blog.

I love to write. Writing is my form of therapy and sometimes I feel that I abuse it. But then, could it be that it is my drug? Does it make sense that I am more addicted to writing than one can be to an alcoholic beverage or an illegal substance? I don't know, but if that is possible, then I am. However, I don't know of any help groups for my addiction.

It seems as though I am just rambling, but again, I cannot seem to articulate a straight thought. As much as I don't want to write about everything that is going on, it appears to me (after reading this entry) that I'm going to have to. That is probably the only way that I will maintain my sanity and make it through this "phase" in my life.

Just another hurdle, another test...

If It Hasn't Killed Me Yet...

That means it's made me stronger...

Last week, after a series of events that lead me to the ER twice, I was finally diagnosed with Bell's Palsy. It was a tough pill to swallow because there were a lot of factors working against me that tried to break my very being down. Granted, my case is very very mild and the symptoms are temporary (for some anyway), that didn't make the pill any easier to swallow.

Every emotion that I can think of, I might've experienced it. Optimism, pessimism, and indifference. It's angers me to think about it because I'm usually a pretty optimistic person, but for some reason, I wasn't. Not the entire time anyway. It took a day and half, constant praying, coninuous tears, and a poem to allow myself to find that optimistic me again. And I did. But again, that path, though short, was not an easy one.

There are times when I wonder what exactly am I doing in this life. Am I achieving my purpose? Am I making that "mark" on people's lives? Am I going to be remembered when it's all over? I don't know, but then again, no one really knows now do they?

Every obstacle in my life, scratch that. Every MAJOR obstacle in my life, has always caused me to feel like my world is going to end. But in all actuality, it never does. Strangely enough, it just starts back over again. And again. And again. Almost as if it were a "Ground Hog's Day" kind of movie or something. For that, I am thankful.

I'm almost positive that there are people in this world and people who have left this world that only wish they could have an opportunity to "start over" continuously. To learn from their mistakes, to strengthen from their weaknesses, to right the wrongs that they had done. So many wish they could, but can't. I can and have; always been able to actually. Time to stop taking those moments for granted and start utilizing them. No more feeling like my world is about to end or letting the devil crush my spirit. It's time to remember, I mean truly remember, who I am and what I stand for.

I am a child of God and there isn't anything that will change that....

A Sigh Can Weigh So Much

And yet so little at the same time...

There are so many positive things going on in my life right now, that I am not in the least bit surprised that there is an undercurrent of negativity or even an undercurrent of things trying to bring me out of my "high". Even worse, it's the negative, aggravating things that once again drive me to want to write! I get tired of finding more inspiration to write when angry, upset, or aggravated; that is something that bugs me more than it should...

The majority of the poems that I have ever written, were written when something was bothing so much that I had to write about it in order to avoid exploding. Some people call my writing dark, others call it relatable(?). I don't know, but sometimes it would be nice to have more positive poems than negative ones. Then again, it was on negative emotions that I began writing; so I guess it only makes sense that it's the negative that drives my pen...

(Sigh)... So many words are said when not a word is uttered...

Friends Are Like Blues In A Sea Full Of Pinks

Why do you ask? Because they are. True friends are rare and they are very hard to come by. I, myself, don't have many friends so my true friends are even fewer. They might be the only friends that I really do have to be honest. Crazy part about it is that we're all not centralized in one location together; I kind of like to believe that my friendships with my true friends are global sometimes; yeah, global.

The friends that I do have are very important to me. They have a serious impact on my outlook and my life. They also keep me very humble. They uplift me when I am down, they encourage me when I need it, they protect me when I'm in danger, and they promote me without ever being asked to. My accomplishments are theirs, just like theirs are mine. There are many other things that they do, but those are just a few examples.

Lately, one of my best friends has been promoting me in her blog; it's in the beginning stages, but it's very neat and very creative. She also went and purchased EVERY published work that I have out there! I think that's pretty amazing when you sit down and think about it. It seriously was enough to make me cry, but it definitely kept a smile on my face, that's for sure. I'm thankfully blessed to have people like her in my life and in my corner because sometimes that's what a person needs to push forward with their dreams; as much as I dream, I know I definitely need that encouragement.

Anyway, here is a link to her new blog: http://amberrocksawesome.wordpress.com
Check it out when you can and if you like it, join and leaves comments. I know she would love to have you :')

I Have A Foe Named Fear

(Sigh)

I am a writer. I am more than a writer, I am an author. I am an author that has published 3 books. Two poetry books and a children's picture book. I am currently working on a picture poetry book, a regular poetry book, and four novels. Yes, I am an author.

I am an author who, as much as I would love it, am deathly afraid of the limelight. I don't like the attention or the acknowledgement that my writing brings. It probably doesn't help that my social skills come off as if I am a child who was told continuously NOT to speak to strangers; so in a way, I don't, or try not to anyway.

My social etiquette is kind of lacking. Partly because I am very humble about my talent and I feel like to talk about it, would be to brag about it. And partly because I don't like to discuss my emotions and A LOT of my poetry is based on my emotions. I'm a very private person and I instantly put up walls when it seems as if my private life is being invaded. Crazy thing is, I knew that was going to happen when I set out to publish my first book.

Fear can be a crippling foe. It is crippling my ability to get out there and promote my work like I should or even like I want to. It is crippling my want to read at open mic events. It is crippling my behavior when a fan approaches me with questions or compliments. It is just all around crippling.

And quite frankly, I'm tired of being crippled.