At Home

What to write here?

The last few days have been wonderful, difficult, emotional, and tiring. 

Coming home will do that to a person. 

Dealing with medical issues with an aging parent will do that to a person.

I write this from my mom's cozy living room on New Year's Eve. We're listening to music, having eaten our pizza and junk food for the night. An hour remains before it officially turns 2023 in this time zone. We've been talking all night about this and that - Christmases past, family memories, our jobs, our lives, and everything in between. I needed it.

I haven't worked on my novel, but I may in a few minutes. A nice way to ring in the New Year, eh?

Thursday and Friday I spent time with my brothers and my father as we dealt with a health setback for him. Decisions need to be made, and they're hard ones (he's okay, but things are different now for a variety of reasons), and I'm not ready to make them. I don't like being at the age where I'm concerned about my parents' health and financial situations, and they need my help and input. I'm very glad my two brothers and I get along well and we can have discussions about hard topics without stepping on toes. Many families don't have such an experience.

My hometown has changed a lot since I left 25 years ago. Some families from my childhood still live here, others have moved on, and new ones have moved in. I've recognized several people in my forays into the small grocery store, hardware store, and restaurants, but many others remain strangers to me. I almost feel like a stranger, unable to see myself as part of this community any longer. I've officially lived most of my life in the city I currently reside in now. 

But it will always be home.

One of my favorite Christmas songs is "Christmas Eve in My Hometown" by Kate Smith. It's a 1940s song, which is fitting, and whenever I listen to it, I think about my childhood Christmases in this, my hometown. Those will forever be the best Christmases ever. 

This is a rambling post. That's okay. I'm in a rambling mood. Lots of emotions to process. I've felt particularly nostalgic this Christmas. Getting older does that to a person, I suppose.

2023's Motto

 I'm not one to really make New Year's resolutions any longer. I figure every day is a day to start over or renew your goals. It's too hard to just say, "I'm making ALL THE CHANGES this year." Human beings don't work like that.

What I hope to do this year is be more intentional with what I do with my time. I do not mean that every spare minute must be spent doing something I love because that's simply not realistic. The day job often brings tasks I don't particularly enjoy - and so does daily living. Dishes, laundry, etc. I also do not mean that every minute I spend has to be productive, either. Rest is something I need to learn how to do - really rest, not just take a ten minute break. Those of us with ME/CFS need to pace ourselves or else we risk crashing and putting ourselves into terrible flares. Therefore, if I feel the need to sit in front of the TV and watch classic movies all day, I'm going to do it and not feel guilty. 

But, when I take the time for my own activities, I want my time to matter. It needs to bring me joy. Whether that's reading, doing a puzzle, or working on my novel, if it doesn't bring me joy, then I'm not going to do it. I want that specific time to have a purpose, because that purpose will fuel my passion and my joy.

Therefore, this is my new mantra for 2023:

I will be cutting some activities out of my life to make way for those things that bring me joy. I no longer want to spend my precious spare time (which is further limited by my chronic health issues) doing things that bring me stress and do not fulfill me.

This may be a tall order. Or maybe it's exactly the kind of goal I need for this new year. 

Here's to 2023!

Merry Christmas!

 We had a very quiet Christmas. This is so different to the Christmases of my childhood and during my marriage. As a kid, we had tons of family nearby, so we always went to my grandparents for Christmas Eve with all the cousins, and then sometimes we'd also go there on Christmas Day, or host Christmas dinner at our place. The days were full of family and laughter and fun. 

During my marriage, we ended up going several different places. My parents divorced, and my (now ex's) husband' parents were also divorced, so there were some Christmases we ended up going four or more different places with all three kids in tow. Whew. I don't know how I survived.

All the kids are grown now. My grandparents on both sides have all passed. And each of my siblings has their own little families that have become bigger through marriage and babies. 

Christmas always makes me a little melancholy now. As an adult, I don't think we ever quite capture the magic of those innocent childhood Christmases. Our parents do all the shopping and wrapping, play Santa, make the goodies, and the arrangements. We are mostly unaware of tensions within the family (though as far as I can remember, my family didn't have much tension - or they were very good at concealing it!). I realize I'm very fortunate to have those memories. In contrast, my boyfriend didn't enjoy the holidays because when his family got together, they ended up bickering and fighting the entire time. 

It was just the three of us today. We were up early to open presents, and I received some wonderful gifts. My daughter got me the Prince John action figure because I LOVE the Disney Robin Hood movie, and she also got me this vintage 1940s brooch.

My BF gave me these two gorgeous fox pins plus a few Snoopy bags and a super cool Snoopy miniature book set. 

We watched the new Top Gun movie, Maverick, this evening, but other than that, it's been very quiet. That's okay. I am rather glad the holiday is over. I know Christmas is a very hard holiday for many, and while I am quite fortunate to have my boyfriend and my daughter here, plus other family close by, I know others are not so lucky.

I'm headed home this week to see my parents and my brother. I'm looking forward to some time alone on the road. I plan to listen to some podcasts and just enjoy my own company. I don't have to return to work until Jan. 9, 2023. I can't believe it's going to be 2023! Wow.

The New Workspace

 A writer's workspace is quite important. I think all of us have a dream office in mind - I certainly do. I want a large room lined with bookshelves and dark wood, with a fireplace, 18th century paintings, a huge desk, and a wonderful chaise lounge. Hopefully I'll have that some day.

But for now, I'm pretty happy with my new workspace. I originally had one desk, but found that it was far too small and worse, working on my laptop with its non-ergonomic keyboard would play havoc with my wrists. I had carpal tunnel about 15 years ago, and I have no desire to get it again. I moved away from a desktop computer years ago, but kept my ergonomic keyboard. I figured if I was going to spend a great deal of time writing, I needed a desk setup conducive to making my body as comfortable as possible.

I ordered a fairly cheap desk from Amazon that my wonderful boyfriend put together, and he also brought home a broken chair from his office, fixed it, and gave it to me. And it is a wonderful, comfortable chair that I have no problem spending hours in. 

Here's how it turned out!

It is so cozy - I just love it. I don't have much of a view through the window - we live in a duplex and my room is sort of smashed in between two garages - but I do have some lovely London-themed curtains and plenty of Snoopy as the Literary Ace to inspire me.

Of course, there will be days I spend in bed writing - that's a given with my illnesses - and because writing from bed is comfy! But I'm so glad to have this new space.

Insert Witty Title Here

Janet Leigh and Robert Mitchum in 1949's Holiday Affair 

I always have such a hard time coming up with fun titles for my posts. Some days I focus on a particular topic, and other days my thoughts meander. 

Today is probably a meandering one.

My heart beat decided to regulate itself. I'm still headed to the doctor because it's better to be safe than sorry, and I'm sure I'll have some tests done. I did manage to exercise on my treadmill Tuesday and Wednesdays nights (45 minutes each night!), something I desperately needed to lift my mood. If I don't exercise regularly, my mood disintegrates, and I become a bit of a bear. My anxiety starts to spike and so does my depression. So I'm quite glad I've felt well enough to jump back on the treadmill, put on my oh-so-Gen X-playlist (80s and 90s songs!), and walk, walk, walk!

I use this time to think about my novel, or other projects I'm formulating. I have ideas for future articles and books, and walking gives me the opportunity to mull them over. I'd much rather walk outside, but as it is winter in the Great Plains, that's not gonna happen.

I watched two of my favorite Christmas movies tonight - Christmas in Connecticut and Holiday Affair. I don't bother with Hallmark Christmas movies or more modern ones - with the exception of Home Alone and Elf. I did watch the new Will Farrell and Ryan Reynolds movie, Spirited, and did enjoy it, but I doubt it'll end up on my "Must Watch Christmas Movies" list. That list is mostly comprised of movies made before 1960!

All the sugar cookies I made are gone - and silly me, I'm thinking of making some more. My waistband is yelling at me not to be so foolish, and I will probably listen to it since gorging myself on sugar cookies once a year is probably enough.

Trying to watch what I eat during the holidays usually ends up being an exercise in futility. And I think that's okay, though I maintain we work all year to lose the weight we put on during the holidays. It's an endless cycle. Ha!

Stay warm!

Preparing to Hunker Down!

We're set to get hit with quite the winter storm this week. Maybe I'll get my white Christmas after all! I decided to venture to the grocery store in order to replenish my chocolate supplies (one must never be stuck in a blizzard without chocolate) and cars jammed the parking lot. Apparently everyone had the same idea to head to the grocery store. Not only are people preparing for Christmas this weekend, but for the cold Siberian air scheduled to descend on the Great Plains. People exhibited exemplary behavior - standing patiently in line, apologizing for running into each other, etc. - a far cry from the grumpiness I saw a few weeks ago at Barnes and Noble. 

My heart palpitations continue, but I do have a doctor's appointment this week. Curiously, I walked 45 minutes on my treadmill without an issue, and afterwards, I listened carefully to my heart beat. It's skipping a beat. Hopefully it's nothing to be concerned about, but we'll see what the doctor says.

I have a wonderful new-to-me office chair! Of course, Slick has already claimed it as his own. 

Season 3 of Jack Ryan starts today and I cannot wait! I've really enjoyed this series with John Krasinski as the title character. I've also been watching SAS: Rogue Heroes about the British SAS during World War II. It's different and fun, and I've been enjoying it. Here's hoping we don't have any power outages during the storm. 

At least I'll have enough chocolate on hand...

Always Something

Way back in 2008, I was diagnosed with a heart flutter. In scientific terms, I had supraventricular ectopic activity.  I took meds for awhile, and then went off them since it seemed to resolve on its own. Over the past ten years, I'd only occasionally get a heart flutter and it wouldn't last long. 

That changed this month. 

The last few days, I've felt my heart beating and it just doesn't feel right. There might be a bit of fluttering in there - I'm just not
sure. Any small activity I do - like going upstairs or downstairs - leaves me winded. This has left me exhausted and thus, I haven't been able to get on the treadmill.

I can feel the weight creeping back on and I'm panicking.

But shouldn't I be more worried about my erratic heart beat than gaining weight?!? Good grief. My brain frustrates me sometimes.

I'm going to call the doctor tomorrow and see if I can get in before the holidays, but that might be a stretch. 

It's always something with me. And I'm so, so tired of it.

But I did manage to finish some tasks today. As part of my new project, I mailed out questionnaires to my older cousins who knew my great-grandparents. We'll see if I receive any responses. I also wrapped some more presents. 

Now it's time to work on the novel. 

Odds and Ends

I love this picture of Blitz gazing at the Christmas tree

A little round up of odds and ends from the week...

Bowling

I'm exhausted. In a good and bad way, I suppose.

Last night was my boyfriend's Christmas work party, and we went bowling. I love to bowl. Really love it. And I dont' get to do it very often so I probably way overdid it last night by playing three games. I kicked ass during the first game, and did all right during the second, but the third game...oh I shouldn't have done it. My body kept sounding the alarm to STOP but did I listen? No. I knew I'd pay for it today, and I did. I've been achy and exhausted all day long. 

But I desperately needed last night. I needed to laugh, to be around other people, to do something I enjoy. So in the end, maybe it was worth it to feel the way I did today. 

Christmas Shopping

I'm not done Christmas shopping. I still have a few last minute gifts to buy, but heck, I still have an entire week until Christmas. Plenty of time! I wrapped some gifts today and put them under the tree. So did my boyfriend. Speaking of the boyfriend, he is so very hard to shop for. He doesn't like useless items - and what he does like or need, he buys for himself. So what does he tell me? "Don't get me any presents." Ha! Like I'm going to listen to that! Of course I'm going to get him gifts! I'll figure something out this week.

Writing

I have a new writing habit. I try to "touch" the novel every day - i.e. I open my document and try to write a few sentences every day. Some days I manage to write quite a bit - other days, all I manage are a few sentences. But I'm interacting with the story each and every day - and that means I'm staying immersed in my story world. I've never done this before so I figured I'd give it a try. So far, I like it. 

Holiday Weight Gain

I try not to limit myself too much on holiday goodies because I want to be able to eat the cookies without the guilt. This works only sometimes. But as I've not been able to exercise, I'm concerned about the inevitable weight gain. Part of me worries about it, and the other part of me says, "Worry about it next year." I think I'll go with that.

New Project?

For years I've wanted to write a novel or a memoir about my paternal grandfather's family. It will be on some weighty subjects - suicide, mental illness, etc. - and the time has never felt quite right to tackle it. A few months ago, I wrote an entire outline of sorts, but didn't do much more since graduate school took precedence.

Today at our work lunch, my boss asked me what book I planned to write next. I'm already working on my next novel, but I don't have a nonfiction project lined up. Except...maybe I do. Maybe it's time to write this memoir.

I thought fictionalizing it might be the way to go, but the more I ponder the stories I want to tell, the more I realize it needs to be raw and real: it needs to be in my voice, and it needs to be about my life and the lives of my family.

My great-grandparents came to America from Italy in 1908. They had nine children - and two of those children died by suicide. My great-grandmother also died by suicide. That is three from one family. Not only is that unusual, it is absolutely tragic. 

I've struggled with mental illness since high school, and have been on antidepressants since college. Others in my family have also dealt with it. I'm absolutely certain my great-grandmother suffered from mental illness, perhaps as a result of untreated post-partum depression, or grief from losing two babies, or adjusting to life in a new country. I don't know the answers, but I feel like I desperately need to find out.

My great-grandparents bought a farm in 1921 and my brother is now the fourth generation to farm it. I grew up in the same house my great-grandparents in which my great-grandparents and grandparents lived. Memories have burrowed into the very foundations of that house, and there's a deep sadness inextricably tied to the land itself. When my boyfriend first came home with me to visit, he immediately sensed it. Energy, both negative and positive, emanates from the place. 

I've always felt a very special bond with this side of the family. Our lives intersected with them far more than it did my mom's family, or even my grandmother's. Italians tend to be close-knit, and boy, did we ever fit the bill. My dad grew up with his cousins - they were his best friends - and my great-uncles farmed land right beside each other. I grew up visiting great aunts and uncles, cousins, second cousins, etc., and I spent so much time with my grandparents that I feel as though they were my second parents.

Pietro and Domenica Amateis with their son, John

But something lurks in the bones of this family, and I want...no, I need to find out what it is. I want to break this stigma surrounding mental illness in our family, bring it out into the open, and make it safer for the next generation to reach out for help if they feel it necessary. I have my mother to thank for setting such a wonderful example for me - when she went through a major depression, she found help with a therapist and medication, which meant when I endured the same struggle, I had a role model and a roadmap for help. My daughter also struggles with depression and anxiety, and you bet she's been to see therapists and also takes meds. I am determined not to let mental illness lurk in the darkness.

Ideally, I'd like to go to Italy, visit the "old country," so to speak, and see what I could discover. What were conditions like in that part of the country when my great-grandparents decided to leave? Family lore and mystery surround my great-grandparents, and I don't know what is true and what is not. Maybe I never will. But I must try
.

Sugar Cookies!

 Even though there are lots and lots of Christmas goodies to make, I usually only stick with one: sugar cookies. I use one of my Mom's recipes and it yields quite a few cookies.

I haven't made these the last few years. Last December I traveled to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota where I was diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia. I had little energy to dedicate to making cookies or much of anything else that month. 

This year I hesitated about making them. Did I have enough energy? And if I did have the energy, would I crash the next day?

Well. I had enough energy today - and I guess tomorrow we'll see if I crash or not. I hope not because I have a Christmas lunch with my coworkers that I'd really like to attend. 

I know I could make a simpler treat. Cut-out sugar cookies take a lot of work. Rolling out the dough, cutting the shapes, baking them, then frosting them. I make homemade buttercream frosting, so that's another added step. 

But to me, there's something wonderfully nostalgic about sitting in front of the Christmas tree late at night, after everyone is in bed, and munching on a sugar cookie with a mug of cold milk. I think that stems from my childhood Christmases. Mom always made a lot of yummy holiday treats, including sugar cookies. 

From start to finish, it took me four hours to complete these cookies. They turned out great!

Embrace the Good Days

I'm an introvert, and thus, I need time to myself to recharge. 

Thankfully, I've had that time over the past few days, and it has been glorious. 

Setting the mood!

My boyfriend went ice fishing with his best friend, and my daughter has been working quite a bit (retail during the holidays is a tough slog). I've had the house to myself - plus the pets, of course - and have taken the opportunity to just revel in my alone time.

I put on my vintage Christmas records and danced in front of the Christmas tree (Blitz stared at me in astonishment). I watched several Christmas movies while eating some Christmas goodies. I read a few books. I did some research for my novel. I wrote. And I actually felt good enough to exercise. I jumped on the treadmill Saturday night, and yesterday afternoon the weather allowed me to take a nice, long walk.

When you're chronically ill, good days must be cherished for they are, indeed precious moments, and we never know how long they'll last.

Now if I could just get some snow...

Be Kind!

The boyfriend and his best friend decided to go ice fishing out of town for a few days, which means I have some free time. I needed it. I'm an introvert, so naturally, it's imperative I have time to myself to recharge. 

But Friday night I decided to escape the house for awhile and head over to Barnes and Noble for a bit of Christmas shopping and book browsing. I managed to find a couple of items, and stepped into the checkout line. The cashier was helping a customer who appeared to be buying books for her school, or something else that led to a complicated purchase on the register. The line behind me grew and only one more cashier appeared to help out.

And then the grumbling started. One man kept making rude comments about the customer who just wasn't hurrying fast enough for him, while a woman actually said something rather rude to the cashier. I was appalled.

So, being the passive aggressive person I can be sometimes when my goat is up, when it was my turn to go to the cashier who'd had to deal with the previous complicated customer, I said, rather loudly, "Wow, you have a lot of grumpy people in line. You'd think they'd be more understanding and have more patience around the holidays."

The cashier agreed with me, and then I said again, loudly, "I think every person should work retail during the holidays at least once in their life so they know what it feels like. It's hard. And you're doing a great job. Hang in there!"

I completed my purchase and didn't even bother to turn around to see if my words made an impact or not. I don't care. What I really should have done is just turn around to face the cranky customers and told them straight to their faces how they were being giant jackwads. 

I've worked retail during the holidays, and it is tough. Tempers are frayed and the people that most generally receive the brunt of this are the cashiers or employees just trying to help out customers. My daughter works retail and came home in tears tonight because a customer had yelled at her because the coupon they had was expired, and thus, my daughter couldn't accept it. 

As a society, why do we act like this? Several reasons, I suppose, and I know that I've been guilty of being a snot to an employee who doesn't deserve it. 

We all need to show more kindness to each other over the holiday season, and hell, we need to show more kindness to each other every single day of the year. There's too much hate and anger and hurt in the world as it is.

So. This is also a reminder to myself to be kind and show more understanding to my fellow human beings. Join me!

Exercise and Me

I've never liked to exercise. During childhood summers, my brothers would try and convince me to come outside and play baseball or basketball or some other sport. I would accept occasionally, but I much preferred to stay in the comfort of the air-conditioned house on my bed reading a book. 

We had P.E. class at school, and I didn't enjoy that, either. I played volleyball in middle school and decided to try out for track. We spent the entire first day running around the gym and I promptly quit.

I loved playing tennis in college, but after college and marriage and motherhood...well, I just didn't like exercising. I went to Curves for awhile, then quit because of cost, and would walk when possible. But I didn't make it a habit.

Once I did start making it a habit, however, I discovered how much my body craved movement - as long as it was the type of movement I enjoyed. Don't try and get me to run a marathon because I will absolutely say NO WAY. Don't try and get me to do one of boot camps where you pick up tires and logs and ridiculous things like that. Not only can't I do it, I don't want to.

But walking? Oh yes. I absolutely love walking. I started making it a daily habit about a year ago when my doctor at the Mayo Clinic said it was beneficial for my chronic illnesses. My boyfriend and I love to take long nature walks and when I can't go outside, I jump on my treadmill.

That's why the last two weeks were so hard for me physically and emotionally. If I'm feeling pent up anger or depression or something, going out and taking a walk will dramatically improve my mood. When I'm on the treadmill, I listen to music. Either way, it's a win-win situation. But when I'm sick? Exercise gets shoved to the back burner because it can make me feel worse. And my body misses it, leading me to feel anxious and frustrated. 

Tonight I finally felt well enough to jump on the treadmill. I created a playlist on Spotify - a mixture of grunge, 80s and 90s pop, and hard rock - and just walk, walk, walk. I only did 35 minutes, but after being sick for two weeks, that's fantastic! (Gotta celebrate the small wins) My boyfriend and I usually try and walk for an hour, but that all depends on my health. Even if I can get in 20 minutes, it helps me feel better.

No, I'm not going to have a six-pack just by walking nor will I kill myself trying to get one (in this instance, I literally would be killing myself to try and get a sick-pack ab due to the stress that type of high-impact exercise would put on my body). I've made peace with that. 

I use my walking time to think, to look at nature, or to enjoy my music. Many a time I've taken a walk and figured out a plot point, or written the beginning to a class paper. 

Walking is essential for my well-being - and it's essential to my life as a writer.

Setting the Mood

 Do you start your writing sessions by setting the mood? Do you need to light a candle, have a cup of coffee or a soda nearby, maybe some chocolate to munch on? For me, it depends. Lately, I've been reading inspirational blog posts or articles about writing, or I immerse myself in the world of books (Lit Hub is one of my favorite book newsletters) before a writing session.

Sometimes I write in silence, others times with music. Often I'll write with a classic movie playing in the background. The music changes - instrumental one night, big band or Frank Sinatra another. Movie scores are wonderful for writing - very atmospheric and energizing. 

A few times I'm able to just dive right into the manuscript, but I find I do better overall if I prepare myself a bit first. Immersing myself in the writing world means I'm focusing my brain on the task at hand. These little rituals signal my mind that it is time to write.

What about you? 

Triggers and Trauma

Slick has decided to become part of the decor.

Today I endured a stressful event.

Now, be forewarned - this event really wasn't that big of a deal. More of a nuisance than anything.

I had an appointment with my neurologist today in Omaha for Botox shots for my migraines. He has two offices, and since I missed my appointment last week at the office I usually go to, I had to go to the other one in the heart of Omaha. 

I whipped into the parking lot about 10 minutes before my appointment, congratulating myself for managing to get myself out of the house and down Interstate 80 in good time. But when the elevator door dinged open and I walked into the office, a sign sat on an empty desk. The office had moved, and the sign gave me an address: 133rd and Dodge.

Well. I do not live in Omaha. I am not familiar with the city at all, and when I looked up my neurologist's name on the mighty Google, it had the old address. To add insult to injury, when I called them, they had a new phone number. So here I am, trying to call the new phone number while also trying to figure out how to get to this mysterious 133rd and Dodge address. 

Long story short...I finally made it to the new office 30 minutes late and my amazing neurologist was still able to give me my Botox injections.

But I did not handle the situation well at all. I completely lost it. I drove like a maniac, swearing and yelling, my body growing hot and sweaty with stress and tension and anger.

After I made it home and the adrenaline rush began to face, I realized that this was not the first time I've completely lost it over something that really isn't that big of a deal.

Do you know why?

Because of my marriage.

Because for 18 years, I prided myself on handling stress like a pro. And there was STRESS, my friends. SO MUCH STRESS. (Yes, I realize I'm using all CAPS but believe me, the stress...dear god, the stress.) For 18 years with my husband, I endured police visits, outbursts of crazy, bizarre behavior (chasing after cars who cut us off was normal for him), frequent firings (he was fired 3 times, I think?) and so, so many other things. 

I handled the stress well because I had to handle it well. I had to be the sane one, the calm one, to keep my children safe, to keep myself safe, to keep the household running, to keep paying the bills. So I didn't come unglued when the next event came around the bend because I was used to it - and because I couldn't lose my crap. There had to be at least one adult who kept it together.

After the divorce, I worked through a lot of these issues. I realized I'd been stuck in the trauma bond and the cycle of abuse,  and also learned why I reacted the way I did.

What I didn't understand then, though, was how my brain would interpret stressful situations after I did all that healing and work. After I learned more about my chronic illness diagnoses and how my brain was stuck in the fight or flight mode, it all began to make sense. 

 Now, little things will set me off when they wouldn't even faze me before. My brain is trying to figure out what the appropriate response is for stressful situations, and it is over-compensating because it is free to do so. 

Unfortunately, having that rush of adrenaline after these outbursts leaves me shaky and exhausted. When I came home tonight, I just wanted to sit on my recliner and do nothing. This is part of how my body developed these illnesses in the first place! So, the next step is to learn how to deal with stress in a healthy manner that will not cause harm to me emotionally or physically.

It is disappointing to realize that after I went through 18 years of stress, then another five of learning, healing, and processing, that the trauma has not left. I am still dealing with the aftereffects of my marriage. 

It is what it is. 

Our work is never done. We must constantly evolve, change, grow, and learn.

The Tree Is Up!

Today, I finally felt good enough - and energetic enough - to put up the Christmas tree. I asked my boyfriend if he'd help me, and bless his heart, he did a terrific job. He put all the lights on the tree (he has a special technique and I just left him to it!) and helped me fluff the branches. Turned out I needed more lights, so off to the store we went.

I spent the rest of the evening decorating the living room, and I really love how it turned out. When I was a child, my mother had a Reader's Digest Christmas collection of records, and she gave it to me several years ago. See that vintage-looking stereo in the picture above? It has a record player. The sole reason I have that record player, and not just a cool vintage radio, is because of those Christmas records! It's just not Christmas without them!

And see that candle? I started collecting vintage Christmas decorations about 6 or 7 years ago, and I like to pair vintage with more modern pieces. My grandmother gave me several of her vintage Christmas decorations (like this candle!) before she passed, and I always incorporate them into my decorating. In addition, you can see the tree skirt she crocheted and also gifted it to me.  

I almost didn't put everything up this afternoon, but had a "f*&* it" moment and decided to just go for it. I'm so glad I did. 

However...I anticipate I will wake up in pain tomorrow because I overdid it. When will I learn? Sigh. Oh well.

Tonight, as a treat to myself, I ate some almond-bark covered pretzels (SO GOOD) and watched a classic Christmas movie, Remember the Night, with Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray. It's a warm-hearted, wonderful film. Surrounded by beautiful colored lights and my grandmother's vintage decorations, I felt at peace. 

I sorely needed it.

Overall, it was a Very Good Day. 

Mood: Indigo

My mood is all over the place lately. Depressed one moment, sort of happy the next, then just...blah. 

Is it this time of year? Is it being sick for a week with strep throat, and then a flare? Is it not being able to take my daily walks? Maybe. I haven't found much Christmas spirit, either, and I have a living room stuffed with boxes of Christmas decorations. When I look at them, I don't feel joy - only this feeling of "ugh, I have to put these up, and then take them down again." I've decided to put up the tree, but I may not do some of the other items. I put up my small Snoopy Christmas tree in my bedroom but the big tree...gah. I have to wrangle with the lights, mess with the fake branches so that they fan out and lay correctly, and I just don't wanna. There's nothing saying I have to, of course, but I know that if I don't do it, I'll regret it. I do love having a Christmas tree in my living room with all the cornucopia of ornaments: childhood ornaments given to me by my grandparents and parents, or those I made in school, my daughter's ornaments from her childhood, ornaments we've bought on our travels, my vintage ornaments, etc. But the very act of putting up the tree is hampering me. Maybe I could convince the boyfriend to do all the heavy lifting and I could just decorate it! That's a thought...

But I digress.

All my life I've struggled with depression and mood swings. I'm on antidepressants which certainly help to keep me from falling into that black pit of despair, but I do wish I could maintain a good, consistent mood. I think too much, worry too much, and then worry that I'm thinking too much and worrying too much!

Sigh.

Writing helps, which is why I'm blogging at 11:30 p.m. I feel off at the moment, and working through those emotions might be just the thing I need. I want to work on my novel tonight (I had a spectacular writing session last night!) but would like to banish these dark thoughts first.

You know what sounds really good? A frosted sugar cookie and a glass of milk. Except I do not have any frosted sugar cookies. Usually I'll make sugar cookies for Christmas, but I didn't last year because I was dealing with health issues for the entirety of December. And now I'm so worried about gaining weight that I don't want to make them...yet I know I would enjoy it. 

Sometimes I don't have enough variety in my life. I read, I write, I watch classic movies, I do puzzles...but I miss baking cookies and little things like that. Of course, I don't have the energy to do a lot of that anymore. Chronic illness has robbed me of that.

I realize there's really no point to these last few posts of mine...just a lot of rambling. And that's okay. This is my space to do with as I please.

Here's hoping for energy and desire to put up the Christmas tree this week and maybe, maybe even make some cookies!

                 This was my Christmas tree waaaaay back in 2008 when I lived in an apartment. I loved it!

Spoke Too Soon

Hear that maniacal laughter? That's me after thinking I was back to 'normal' on Thursday. I woke up Friday and could barely move. Everything hurt. Yep, another flare decided to invade my body, and I ended up sleeping most of the day.

When I woke up, I didn't feel any better. I ate some lunch, took a pain pill, and stayed in bed. I was so, so FRUSTRATED. I had all these plans to go outside and take a walk, spend some quality time with my boyfriend, and enjoy the day, and here I was, stuck in bed again.

But we had a nice evening anyway. My boyfriend built a fire in our downstairs den, I worked on my puzzle, and we watched a few movies. And even though I slept so much, I was still exhausted and I went to bed at a reasonable hour (for me). I didn't get any writing done on the novel which annoyed me, but sometimes, you have to just listen to your body and stop trying to push, push, push.

Today is a tiny bit better, but not much. I was determined to get out of the house, so my boyfriend drove me around to do some errands. I returned all the books I'd borrowed from my university library, then we headed off to buy some Christmas lights, a new chew toy for Blitz, and a few other odds and ends.

Now I'm back in my recliner, watching Turner Classic Movies, because it just makes my life easier. I'm planning to work on the novel later. I'm at a really fun - but tricky - part and I need to carefully work my way through it. 

I still haven't done anymore decorating for  Christmas - it's such a big job and I don't have the energy for it. I doubt I'll put everything up this year - but we'll see. If I have a good health day, I just might be motivated to put some Christmas cheer into my home!

Back to Normal...For Now

The antibiotics did the trick, thank goodness, and the fiery sore throat has eased considerably. A ticklish, slightly sore remnant reminds me of the hell I went through for three days, and here's hoping I don't experience it again any time soon, if ever.

I still took it easy today - no walking on the treadmill - but I did tidy up my bedroom - washed the bedding, took out the trash, dusted, and vacuumed. The atmosphere feels much better, as though I've swept away the icky germs. 

I'm planning to work on my novel tonight (my creativity usually kicks in after 10 p.m.) and here's hoping I'll continue to feel better tomorrow. I need to get out of the house, for one, and two, I'd like to take a walk on what looks to be the last warm day we'll have for awhile. 

Of course, as a chronically ill person, my normal is quite different from other people's normal. I always have pain or discomfort, always have symptoms. Some days are worse than others, but anytime I feel halfway decent, I'll take it!

In other news, my professor already returned the first draft of my paper and I'll only need to make minor changes to it. Tremendous news, indeed! It shouldn't take me long to edit, and then, it's time to focus solely on the novel. 

I have a new desk arriving next week. If I'm going to be doing a lot of writing, I need to make sure I'm doing it in a healthy way. Therefore, I'm going back to an ergonomic keyboard and now have a comfy desk chair. I'll still have times when I write on my laptop while reclining in bed, of course, but I want to have some options.

Tomorrow is Friday. Huzzah!

Fight Through the Fear

 All day long I worried.

I'd been reading a novel set in the same time period as the one I'm currently writing. I didn't like it, so I found some reviews. Many readers saw the same flaws I did in the novel, and I wondered again why some books are published and others are not. 

But I also know that books are art, and art is subjective. 

What if my novel received bad reviews? What if I couldn't pull it off? Should I even bother?

I could feel the resistance starting to build the wall in my head, brick by brick. 

"Maybe I'll skip tonight's writing session," I thought.

But then I rebelled. "No. If I cave in to the fear and the dread, it'll drag on and on, and I'll end up avoiding the novel for days, if not weeks."

So. I decided to face the fear. 

I grabbed my headphones, put on my writing playlist, and opened the Word doc. 

And I began to write.

I wrote and wrote, and before I knew it, I'd finished the chapter. 

It's amazing what can spook our psyche. 

But we can either give in to it, or push back. 

Last night I chose to push back. I ended my writing session on such a high I wanted to dance around the room. I didn't, of course, because I'm sick with strep throat, but inwardly, oh did I dance.

Fight the fear. Write.

Wanted: A Sabbatical from Life

 I'm on day three of this horrendous sore throat. My doctor thinks I have strep, so I've taken two doses of antibiotics today. It still hurts. I have not had a sore throat this bad in years. As a child, my tonsils were huge, and my mother constantly worried they'd cause me problems. But they didn't - until I became a teenager. I kept getting sore throats and finally, at the ripe old age of 21 (that's old for getting your tonsils out!), I had them taken out. The pain during recovery literally made me cry. My ears and throat hurt so badly that I could barely stand it. But as the human body does, I healed, and life went back to normal.

Over the years, I've still had some sore throat, and have had strep a few times, but nothing like this latest round. When I wake up, it takes me a good two hours to get it calmed down enough to not swallow without crying. I've been eating ice cream as that seems to help, and then feel guilty about it because OH MY GOD I MIGHT GAIN WEIGHT. Ah the brain is just so much fun, isn't it?

Worse, this sore throat comes on the heels of me having a long flare of my chronic illnesses. I feel worthless, depressed, and worn out. I look terrible, I feel terrible, and hate that I'm being a burden on my boyfriend and my daughter.

Those are my thoughts, and as I wrote about earlier, they're wrong because I know I am not being a burden. When they are sick (which is rare for my BF), I take care of them and don't see them as a burden. It's not their fault that they're sick, and it's not mine, either!

I'm still trying to do the day job throughout all of this, and I had to finish the first draft of my class paper. While the paper has been submitted, I now await the inevitable edits I'll have to make for the final.

I haven't been able to exercise, and I know that's a big part of this depression - walking helps me not only physically, but mentally and emotionally.

I'm not excited about Christmas, not excited about the novel, not even excited by the books I'm reading. 

Honestly, I don't want to do it anymore, it being all the responsibilities I have. I want to take a sabbatical from life: do nothing on the day job, don't worry about the paper, don't worry about the novel. Just check myself into a hospital/sanitarium and listen to podcasts or read or have someone wheel me around the pond. 

I'm sure that once my throat stops being on fire, and I'm able to get on the treadmill, or even get out of the house, I'll feel better. 

But it sure is tempting to just say, "I'm done for awhile," and check out of reality for a week or so.

If only.

Honestly, I'm not feeling too resilient today!

Down the Research Rabbit Hole

As a historian, I love to research, and the internet makes it oh so much easier. I'm guilty of looking for one piece of information only to find my attention snagged by something else, and sooner rather than later, I've completely forgotten my original research query.

My current novel is set in Hollywood in 1940, and I am having a blast researching it. The best part is that there are tons and tons and TONS of early L.A. photos available. This means I can research to my heart's content. This also means I can get completely lost in minute details that I don't need for my story.

When I was working on my master's degree in history, I found myself making copies of files that I didn't know if I'd need or not. But as one of my fellow historians said, "The historian who has the most stuff wins." Even if you don't end up using most of your files, you just never know when a little tidbit might come in handy.

The gorgeous actress Gene Tierney

It's the same when researching for a historical fiction novel. In fact, finding one of those little tidbits can sometimes send your novel in a direction you never considered before, or add some color to a snippet of dialogue. 

Of course, you can't research forever.  You need to put words on the page at some point, but having that historical knowledge while you write is crucial. It's one thing to use anachronistic language, but it's another altogether to put a house in a neighborhood that didn't even exist at the time you're writing your story. 

I'm trying to be extra careful with my current novel because it's a topic a lot of people know a LOT about. And historical fiction readers know their stuff. They have no hesitation in calling out an author who got something wrong! I'm hoping to avoid that at all costs.

My problem, though, is that I feel like I need to read every book on a particular topic which is, quite frankly, impossible. Sometimes I wish I had the ability to just put my hand on a book and immediately absorb (and retain) all the information. Wouldn't that be something?

I Am Worthy

 I'm not sure when I started feeling that my chronic illness made me a burden to those who love me.

Maybe it's because my ex-husband told me my illnesses were one of the reasons he cheated on me and left (he was a master at emotional abuse. I mean, really. Blaming me for him cheating and leaving? Classic narcissist.)

Unfortunately, how he made me feel in that moment stayed tucked into my brain. 

My boyfriend and I have been together close to three years. The last year and a half has arguably been the most difficult due to my worsening health issues. He is invariably patient, kind, and understanding - but I thought my ex was, too. Yet behind my back, he chose to find someone else.

My brain knows it wasn't my fault. My heart, however, does not.

When I wake up feeling  ick yet again, even "normal people" sick - i.e. if I have a cold or the flu - I feel tremendous guilt and worry my boyfriend will think, "God, not again."

He assures me he doesn't. He assures me he won't leave me because I'm sick. 

But it is at these times when I feel very vulnerable. I don't feel worthy of his love because I cannot do all the things I feel is necessary for a healthy relationship. Intimacy is hard when you feel like crap most of the time. Going out and doing fun stuff takes a backseat unless I'm having a good day. 

I constantly worry I am holding him back from doing things he wants to do. He says I'm not at all.

But because of my past trauma, my heart keeps telling me, "He says that. But does he really mean it?"

It is at these moments when I have to remind myself that even if I am sick, even if I have limitations, I am still worthy. I am still worthy of respect, of devotion, of love. Why is this so hard to accept? Every time I get sick, this conversation pops up in my head.

As my therapist said, I am resilient. I will be okay no matter what. I remember the first day I met my therapist. I'd just found out about my ex's cheating, and I desperately needed help. She told me, "It doesn't feel like it now, but one day you will be okay. I promise you." I didn't believe her. I was in so much emotional pain that I wanted to die. 

But I didn't die. I kept going. I grieved, I learned about trauma bonds, I did the work, and I healed.

Healing is not linear, however, and sometimes we end up going backwards. Even three years into a new relationship, I still get triggered. But it is up to me to deal with those triggers in a healthy way.

Above all, I need to remember that no matter what, I am worthy of happiness and love and contentment. 

And so are you.

A Quiet Thanksgiving

We had a nice, quiet holiday, just me, my boyfriend, and my daughter. The BF and I took a walk today - it was a little windy but otherwise not too bad outside - and when we returned, he started cooking dinner. He's so much better at it than I am! We have a deal - he cooks, I do the dishes. Win, win!

After we ate, my daughter and I spent an hour laughing our heads off playing a fun game on XBox. So much fun to just let loose and be silly. North by Northwest, one of my favorite movies, was on TCM, so naturally I watched it. 

Tomorrow we're planning to visit my brother and his family. I'm looking forward to seeing my nieces and nephew. No Black Friday shopping for me! My poor daughter works retail, however, so she'll be in the thick of it. 

I'm hoping I can get some more work done on the novel this weekend. I wrote a bit on it last night and thoroughly enjoyed it, so need to keep the motivation going.

Gosh. What a boring post. But hey, I am sticking to my daily blogging schedule, and even if the posts are boring, they still count!

Huzzah!

Would it surprise you to learn that I have a sticker on the back of my car that says, "Huzzah!" It shouldn't. I found it at Colonial Williamsburg, and I snatched that baby right up. I wanted it on a t-shirt, but couldn't find it, so settled for this.

And why am I saying "Huzzah!" right now?

Because the first draft of the class paper is done. Oh my. This paper has tormented me from the start. My original outline promised a book-length treatise of my subject, which simply wouldn't work. So I had to narrow. And then narrow some more. And then cry - literally - because I'd start to overthink the entire process and thus, didn't even want to tackle the thing.

Of course, quitting wasn't an option (tempting, though). 

But tonight, I finally managed to crank out the conclusion. I'm not thrilled with the paper, but we'll see what my classmates and professors think. Then, it'll be time to edit it. 

It's been a hard semester, and I've struggled to try and figure out if grad school is still something I'm really passionate about doing. 

Life is short. Shouldn't we spend our time doing what we love? I know we all have jobs and need to make money to pay the bills...but I don't want to be pursuing a path that isn't the right one for me.

So. I'll be spending my December vacation from school thinking about what I truly want to do with my life.

As the illustration says, it's okay if we do something that doesn't work...at least we tried. At least we know. 

And that's what matters.

This Must Stop

Another mass shooting in the United States, only days after the last one.

This time, it was at a Wal-Mart in Virginia. According to early news reports, at least six people are dead.

Six lives lost.

Six people looking forward to spending time with friends and family on Thanksgiving.

This. Must. End.

Mass shootings in America are so common now that they no longer shock us. Nowhere is safe. Malls, shopping centers, movie theaters, schools, bars and clubs...NOWHERE IS SAFE.

I'm sickened by the gun culture of this country, and I'm sickened by our political leaders' refusal to do anything about it. One party tries, and the other party blocks it. There is no compromise, no discussion. People are literally dying over this issue and even that cannot unite us?

This sickness within our society has made me seriously look at moving overseas. No country is completely safe, but I don't have to worry about getting shot while out shopping or going to the movies or any other public activity in several other countries. 

Why is the Second Amendment being abused like this? I'm not going to go into the whole "it's my right to own a gun." Fine. But your right to own a gun doesn't overrule my right to live. No one - I repeat NO ONE - outside the military needs to own an AR-15, the gun that is used for the majority of mass shootings. You don't need an AR-15 to keep varmints off your land (I grew up on a farm - we never, ever had an AR-15!). 

We have a gun problem in this country. Some people will try and say it's a mental health problem, and that is absolutely part of the equation, but it is not the only part. There are steps we can take, but the gun culture refuses to even consider them. 

I don't know what to do anymore. I write to my representatives in Congress and they. don't. care. They do not care that people are dying. 

What have we come to?

Monday Musings

Marilyn Monroe in a Thanksgiving pinup!

I find I don't have much to say this evening.

The day went by rather slowly. I fought to stay awake, knowing that if I took a nap I'd be worthless at class tonight. My body craves sleep most of the time - that's the reality of living with chronic fatigue syndrome - and lately I've been trying to indulge that craving. When I don't, I usually end up in a flare. I'm a little worried that might happen tomorrow.

Still, class went well this evening, and I was able to have a nice chat with two of my classmates afterwards. That's one of the things I love about grad school - making friends with people who love history just as much as I do.

We'll be spending Thanksgiving at home this week - just me, my daughter, and my boyfriend. On Friday, we'll head over to my brother's house. I'm looking forward to that as I adore my nieces and nephew - they're all under the age of 7, so the place usually bursts with energy.

I find myself missing the holidays of the past, when we usually went to my grandmother's house, or we hosted Thanksgiving at my parents' place. Lots of good food, family, and laughter. Now, with everyone grown up, with their own families, and living in different parts of the state, it's hard to get everyone together. We try but are not always successful.

I'm both excited about decorating for Christmas and dreading it because it takes a lot of energy - energy I do not have. But as I'm in a different house this year, I will get to decorate it however I want in new-to-me ways. That's always fun. Plus, I have a fireplace so I can actually hang up the stockings on the mantle! 

The semester is almost over - which means I can start to focus on my fiction again. I'm quite looking forward to it.  

The Wonderful Barbara Stanwyck

Some of the first classic movies I ever watched starred the wonderful Barbara Stanwyck. I loved her spunk and spirit as Molly Monahan in the 1939 western Union Pacific, and I adored her street-savvy, wise-cracking gangster's girlfriend Sugarpuss O'Shea in Ball of Fire. Not only could she play comedy, but she could play drama equally well, and she just captured my attention whenever she was onscreen.

It wasn't until years later that I realized why I so loved Barbara Stanwyck: it was and is because she reminds me of my beloved grandmother.

This is my grandmother when she was young: 

Grandma is on the left!

Wasn't she absolutely beautiful? And here, for comparison, is Barbara Stanwyck.

Maybe it's just me...but I sure do think they look similar. And the similarities don't stop there. Barbara Stanwyck was known for being a bit of a firecracker, taking charge of her career and being a strong woman. My grandmother was the strongest woman I've ever known. Fierce. Independent. And so full of love.

I lost my grandmother four years ago and I feel her loss every day. Our relationship was special - we loved talking about old movie stars, politics, the state of the world, and anything and everything under the sun. She was whip smart, and started using a computer and the Internet in her 70s and 80s. She wasn't about to let technology pass her by. Even so, we'd still handwrite letters to each other, and I saved them all. 

She was my champion, my confident, and one of my very best friends 

That's why sometimes I will put on a Barbara Stanwyck film and feel just a little bit closer to my grandmother. I like to think that they have become fast friends in the afterlife.

The Magic of Community

I am a huge fan of classic movies. My go-to channel is Turner Class Movies (TCM), and there's a community of classic movie fans on Twitter who use the hashtag #TCMParty to tweet about whatever movie is airing on TCM. 

Tonight, after a very exhausting day of dealing with yet another flare, I watched two of my favorite classic Christmas movies that were airing on TCM: Christmas in Connecticut (1945) and The Bishop's Wife (1947). 

Watching them while live-tweeting with other classic movie fans was exactly what I needed. The movies themselves bring immense joy, but sharing that joy and appreciation with others just makes it all the better. 

This is the power of social media: community. And when you're stuck at home with a chronic illness and unable to be out with friends, or would rather stay at home, warm and cozy, yet share your interests with others, social media can be an absolute lifesaver. I've created a wonderful community of folks on Twitter, not only with classic movies, but also with other historians and other writers. That's why I hope Twitter doesn't implode because I will deeply miss it.

Blogging once offered me the same type of community, and while many of those friends migrated to Twitter or Facebook where we continued our relationship, I lost touch with a number of others. But I guess that's just life, isn't it? Some college and high school friends, past co-workers, and other acquaintances have faded out of my life, and I'm sure some people I know now will do the same. 

Community has always been very important for me. Sharing my interests with others only deepens my knowledge and bonus, creates amazing friendships!

Finding Joy in the Little Things

I've always taken great pleasure in finding joy in the little things. Life is, after all, made up of little moments and inconsequential things that add up to precious memories. Grand vacations, spectacular parties, and other big occasions are obviously causes for joy, but I would rather find contentment in the so-called "mundane" aspects of life.

Tonight, for example, my boyfriend lit a fire in the fireplace, and we worked on a puzzle while my daughter
played a video game. The pets joined us, and it was cozy and calm and wonderful. I need those simple moments in my life.

Every night, I usually pop up a small bag of popcorn (only 100 calories - ha!), have a few squares of dark chocolate, and a Diet Pepsi. Yes, it's nothing big, but oh how I look forward to it all day long. 

Other things I find joy in...

• Walking. When the weather allows it, I walk outside. I enjoy listening to the birds, and soaking in the sounds of nature.
• Bird watching. I have bird feeders outside my back window, and I love to see them chattering and scattering seed everywhere.
• Jigsaw puzzles. I started doing this two years ago, and have since finished several puzzles. I have them framed so I can enjoy them forever.
• Watching classic movies. I am obsessed with movies from the 1940s through the early 1960s. I have an impressive DVD collection. Heh.
• Hanging out with my adult daughter. We often stay up late gabbing about anything and everything.
• Reading a good book. Really, there's nothing like escaping into another world, whether its fiction or nonfiction.
• Having my cat snuggle on my lap. The funny thing is that Slick never snuggled with me until about two years ago. 
• Collecting Snoopy items. I've managed to amass quite the collection and I don't plan on stopping anytime soon.
• Taking pictures of my dog, Blitz. He's so photogenic and brings me immense happiness.

Those are but a few examples of the little things that bring me joy. I have many, many more!

What brings you joy?

On Being Real

 I know not many people are reading this blog. That's okay. I'm really doing this more as a way for me to commit to a daily writing practice. It's part of my journey toward finding a way back to my inner writer.

Thus, many of these posts aren't going to the most inspiring, or the funniest, or the most thought-provoking because well, my life isn't like that. They're also not going to be edited much. What I write for the first draft is probably what you're going to get. It's how I'm trying to get rid of the inner editor. 

What but this blog is going to be is real. .

So what's real about today? 

I went and did about an hour and a half of shopping. Nothing too strenuous. I went to one store and bought a gorgeous new comforter for my bed, another store to look for a candle, and then decided to get a few groceries. After returning home, I washed the bedding, made the bed (which should be an Olympic sport trying to wrestle a fitted sheet on a mattress), and did the dishes. After that? I was utterly exhausted.

There is grief in having a chronic illness. Many people can go to work, run errands during lunch time, go back to work, maybe hit the gym before dinner, and do some chores after that and be just fine. They may be tired, yes, but not bone-deep tired. There's an exhaustion that is part of ME/CFS that is hard to explain. It's not an ordinary tiredness or fatigue. It is far, far worse than that. Sleep doesn't help. You don't wake up refreshed. If you overdo it, you pay for it - dearly.

I grieve for my life before chronic illness. It has stolen so much from me.

I didn't get in my treadmill time (it's been too cold to walk outside) tonight. If I'd pushed myself through that exhaustion, I would have ended up in bed possibly for the rest of the week, if not longer. So instead, I rested. I didn't work on my class paper - I had no mental capacity for such work. I hung out with my daughter and my boyfriend.

I still worry that I might wake up tomorrow and be in pain. 

This is my reality. 

There are days I can accept it and days I don't. 

But I will celebrate what I did accomplish today - and that includes honoring the commitment I made to myself to write daily on this blog, even if it's at 1:21 a.m. 

Go, me! 

I'll leave you with this incredibly important quote:

Dealing with Emotional Clutter

When I was a kid, my room was usually a disaster. I wouldn't leave dirty clothes on the floor, but I would leave piles of books, stacks of paper, and odds and ends all over the place. Eventually my mother would get tired of it and clean it up. I don't know why she didn't make me clean it up - it was my mess, after all! 

As an adult, my messy bedroom hasn't really changed. I still have books piled all over the place, stacks of paper, and odds and ends...and for some reason, it doesn't bother me.

Until it does.

And then I'm a cleaning whirlwind. When I'm done, I feel sooo much better. Why do I allow my bedroom to get this way in the first place? Honestly, I don't notice it. I'm so deep into whatever project I'm working on, whether it's a paper for class, or my novel, or something else, that the mess builds and builds and I don't see it. When I start noticing it, I get irritated for a few days until I can't take it anymore and clean.

My brain is the same way. If it's cluttered in my head - I'm having problem with a project, or I'm troubled by something in the world, or my relationship, or I'm wrestling with some other issue - it builds and builds and builds. Metaphorically, I have stacks of "stuff" piling up in my brain. When I notice myself getting irritated or feel depression settling on my shoulders, I have to stop and figure out why - and start decluttering and cleaning.

How do I accomplish this? 

My last completed puzzle

I journal. I go take a walk outside or I jump on the treadmill and listen to some music. I'll lose myself in a novel for awhile or put together a puzzle.  I'll talk about my issues with my boyfriend, or a trusted friend. Sometimes, if it's more serious, I'll make an appointment with my therapist. And wow, do I ever feel better once I "clean" up the chaos in my mind.

If only I could learn not to let it build up in the first place...

Maybe some day, right? A girl can hope.