Knowing, When to Know…

An unsurmountable heaviness beats down deep within my chest, it’s familiar. It isn’t a hush or a faintness but a shrilling sound that only ones soul can feel when time and patience begins to spiral out of control. The something that was supposed to wonderful is seemingly turning out to be nothing. You know it isn’t the end but it feels like it. You want tomorrow to be yesterday and next week to be a year from now. Life is changing around you but you haven’t figured out exactly how you should change with life but there is a force of change happening that is relentless and inevitable. The world in the 40” screen is a world you can choose to live in at the press of a button but when that screen turns cold and black and the lights are back on, you’re center stage again except you’re the character that no wants to be, sad and feeling self-pity. All you want is for the uncertainty to be a memory. After so much time has passed and you’ve struggled to put all your financial ducks in a row, you finally have a plan that makes sense, and you become proud in your own courage to step out on faith or chance by leaving a dead end job, moving, or ending a relationship (in my case, losing the job) and that dreadful mallet crushes your plans and dreams, where do you go from there? What do you say to people, the people you thought you were being a champion for? You hide in your home, you go on a hunger strike against the lack of accommodations life isn’t providing you, and you begin deserting yourself from even the innocent ones who have many years to gain before ever walking in your ragged shoes.

 

For me, I knew that I was making the right choice. It was time for me to remove myself from a work environment that wasn’t feeding my purpose or the memory of the dreams I had for myself. Growing up and till this day I was vibrant and depressed, I was a creative. I sought out the meaning of making what was not–a what is, in the realm of artistry. I was an avid reader who could remain focused on three books at a time because I lived in those stories. I wrote poetry and was certain that writing would be for me and I still feel the same way, but there is nothing worse than learning that the creative roadblock you face is because of what I used to believe was a mythical disease has now plagued me. Me, a 31-year-old married mother of four is ravaged by Anxiety disorder, Depression and ADHD (the latter being the mythical one). Knowing that when I revealed this unexpected truth, I would be a woman alone on an island with good hearted people but they will also be deaf and blind to my reality. But I know it is time to be honest and say, “This is who I am, I have some struggles and I can be emotional and withdraw from friends and family, but it isn’t because I want to, it’s because I am sick.” Yes, everyone has moments of depression. But, the worst part of having depression as a disease is that when you have your worst moments, you really feel like the world is against you. You can’t get up from the couch or bed, everything put to use in your house is left at the place you use it, you lose control over yourself and your children and  you become a zombie, even worse, a prisoner in your own body and home. This doesn’t mean that you can’t get out it just means that you have to work harder at identifying the problem and be persistent in getting the help you need. When you know you are unbalanced consistently and everything that everyone says triggers an emotion from you, don’t be afraid to find a way to get help. Don’t be afraid of medication, try different kinds until you find one that fits, or try behavioral therapy, perhaps you have a list of childhood grievances to uncover. Speak up and get help! You know, when you know!

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Lost without a cause

In my mind I am a prolific writer, yet, my hands don’t write. Thoughts stream through consciously but immobility strangles the possibility of letters composed to tell a story. The world confounds me, my desires are set high upon a mountain but there is no inspiration. How can I get out of this rut? When I was 18 I didn’t know where I would be…I knew that I loved reading and writing. During the summers I would read endlessly living in the world the writer created. The inspiration would possess me to write and I would read my pages of work over and over again reveling at how good it was. My vocabulary was enough to keep interest but not enough to captivate. When I became pregnant the first, the second, the third, and fourth time I still didn’t know if I would be capable. Subsequently I just fell into a sea of despair. I started school and was inspired by my Public Speaking professor and my fellow classmates, they built me up to something that I was not ready to become. Something deep inside me told that I couldn’t do it and that it wasn’t possible. The intensity of writing takes precedence over creating worlds vivid with purpose–I begin and then I stop. Laziness must be the answer. If someone reads this maybe they could get in the car with me as my passenger and help me drive my way into the promises scrolled by my creator. Where do I go from here?

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New to the world of blogging.

I always heard of the phrase “blogging” but I never thought that it was something that I would end up doing. It all began with my Business Information Systems class. We all had to pick a technology to do a six page research paper on. I have always wanted to be a writer but I never knew exactly what I wanted to write about, usually I would just write about what is going on in my life – in a journal of course. It was no surprise that blogging would be an avenue that I would venture. In order for me to really learn about this vehicle I figured, why not start my own blog. I had not taken the time to read anyone’s blog other than a casual breeze through of the Huffington Post. I had seen a blog on Myspace before from other friends and I always thought I had a pretty interesting life, shouldn’t I try to blog? I realized after reading so many depressing blogs that I didn’t need to add to the piling stench of misery. It is five years later and now the promise of interacting with the thoughts of others and sharing my own, the prospect of starting a blog is more alluring. I write for my college’s newspaper as an opinion writer, although I haven’t been inspired to write anything lately maybe now is the time. I have exhausted any thought of writing about the political atmosphere in our country because people are insane with detest that we have failed to look in the mirror and realize maybe we are all apart of the cause and apart of the solution. A well collected sigh relives the stress of having to think about it all so for now I will leave it at that. I hope to learn from the other bloggers here. I am blog ready with growth ahead of me. My News Writing professor says, “The more you write the better!”

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