Me? Inspiring?

If we were to give out awards for those most likely to downplay their accomplishments, I would win the gold medal. 

That's why it's always hard for me to accept praise from people who say I am inspiring, or that I am amazing for my achievements despite the adversity I've faced. 

I don't think I'm inspiring. But...maybe I am?

So for this blog post, I'm going to toot my own horn and maybe, just maybe, I can catch a glimpse of what others believe makes me inspiring. 

(This is going to be hard. I was taught to be humble, to not brag, to not shout out my accomplishments. Christian Evangelism, you have a lot to answer for in my life, but that's for another post). 

Here goes.

During my toxic, abusive marriage of 18 years, I managed to work full-time, raise my children, write freelance book reviews, write several articles published in American in WWII magazine, write my nonfiction book, Nebraska POW Camps, and write several novels, once which was eventually published last year.

Also during these 18 years, I battled a narcissistic abusive husband who managed to cause chaos and turmoil everywhere he went. I became trapped in a trauma bond and an abuse cycle. I moved out three times, but always went back (trauma bonds are extremely strong). I also started to develop severe health issues. I had several surgeries for my female health issues, culminating in a hysterectomy in 2012. That surgery triggered something in my body, and I started to get sick. Doctors thought it was rheumatoid arthritis, but in all actuality, it was probably fibromyalgia.

Then in 2013, I became incredibly ill with mono and had to go to the ER. This, combined with the trauma from my marriage, caused me to develop chronic fatigue syndrome (although I didn't know this until 2021). My health began to steadily decline, but I kept writing because, well, I'm a writer. It's what I do.

2017 hit and my marriage imploded. My husband cheated on me and left, leaving me to pick up the pieces and raise our daughter on my own. That same year, the press who had published my Nebraska POW Camps book approached me and asked if I'd like to write another book. Still reeling from my divorce, I said yes, and began researching the book that would become WWII Nebraska. I still owed my then-agent a novel, so I finished that up and turned it in to her and wasn't surprised at all when she said it needed a ton of work. I was so mired in grief and PTSD that it's no wonder!

So I went to therapy. I kept working on my nonfiction book, and shelved my novel. For a year and a half, I kept to myself, going out with friends occasionally, but mostly staying home in my little cocoon, trying to heal.

When I felt ready, I started dating. Ohhhh boy. Maybe someday I'll write a book about dating in your 40s. I had some great experiences and met some wonderful guys - one became one of my dearest friends! But I also had some terrible, traumatic experiences .Back to therapy I went. 

I started working on a new novel, kept trying to get it work, but my personal life was still in turmoil and it was hard. I also noticed that my health was starting to get worse. 

Just before the pandemic hit in 2020, I'd met a wonderful man, and we'd started dating. The pandemic gave us the perfect opportunity to really get to know each other since going out was no longer an option. We went on fishing trips and put together puzzles and went on long walks. I decided to sell my house because I needed a fresh start. There were too many traumatic memories in that home, so it had to go. My daughter and I moved into an apartment for two years.

I kept writing, and Simon & Schuster UK published my first novel. The Stranger from Berlin. It was a dream come true! I enjoyed the entire experience and worked with a wonderful editor. Unfortunately, the pandemic really put a wrinkle in marketing and publicity, so my sales weren't great, and it was never released in paperback. Sigh.

At the end of 2020, I decided to pursue my PhD in history. Despite all my challenges, it was always something I'd wanted to do. So I applied to my university's history dept and was accepted into the PhD program. I started classes in the fall of 2021.

By this time, my health had become much worse. I was working from home full-time during the pandemic, and after restrictions were eased, I knew I couldn't go back to the office, so I've been working from home ever since. 

But also in 2021, a new rheumatologist said, "You don't have rheumatoid arthritis. It's something else."

So. I'd been misdiagnosed for nearly 10 years and had been taking medication that I didn't need for those 10 years.

To say I was upset was an understatement. So, in November of 2021, I went to the Mayo Clinic. I needed answers, and what better place to go than one of the best medical centers in the country?

That's when I received the news that not only did I have fibromyalgia, but I had chronic fatigue syndrome. I finally had an answer for the terrible flares, pain, and debilitating fatigue I'd been experiencing.

But as I was in school, I didn't have a lot of time to dwell on that. I had papers to write and books to read. I still had my full time job to deal with, and yes, I was still working on my novel!

In the spring of 2022, my boyfriend and I decided to move in together, so I had to pack and move again - which was NOT easy on this body of mine, but we did it!

Which brings us to the present. 

Whew.

After writing all of that, you know what? I am pretty damn proud of what I've accomplished. Three books published. Numerous articles. PhD student. Domestic abuse survivor. One kick-ass mom to an awesome (now adult) daughter. Chronic illness warrior. 

If I really think about it, at any point during my life I could have just...stopped. Given up. Said, "I'm done. Life is too hard." I could have stayed with my husband. I could have refused to go to therapy and probably ended up in another abusive relationship. I could have allowed my circumstances to drown me. I could have taken refuge in alcohol or drugs. I could have let my illnesses stop me from living life. I could have stopped writing.

But I didn't.

The burning passion to write, whether it be novels or history books or articles, just won't let me alone. It's guided me from a very young age - middle school! - and it has kept me sane and focused on days when I wanted to end it all.

The burning passion to see and experience the world, to study history, whether through books or travel, won't let me alone, either. That's why in the last 20 years, I've gone to England twice, traveled to New Orleans twice, and been to Virginia. Sure, that's not a lot of travel when compared with some people, but considering my past situations? That's a lot. And I'm planning to do so much more!

Is that inspiring? 

Hell yes it is.

Am I inspiring?

Hell yes I am!

Follow Your Truth

I've been struggling to write my class paper for a month now.

After class last night (which I had to attend via Zoom - I'm still dealing with this stupid flare!), I felt I had a better handle on what I needed to do.

But here's what really got me over the hurdle.

"Melissa," I said to myself, "stop trying to write how you think you should write. Write it how you want to write it."

And suddenly, the words came. I rewrote my introduction, telling the story I wanted to tell. It felt right where before it felt, well, weird.

What is that saying? To thine own
self be true.

This saying is not only important in our writing, but in our lives, as well. I'm facing a big decision soon and I have to keep returning to this sentiment again and again: Be true to yourself. Follow your truth, not anyone else's.

Finding My Way Back

I have a paper due for class in three weeks. Considering the amount of trouble it's given me, you'd think I'd completely forgotten how to construct a research paper. I don't know if I'm just overthinking (probable) or my cognitive function isn't great during this flare (also probable) but I've only been able to work on it in fits and starts.

I rather thought I had it sorted the other day, so I'd been trudging through it when I unexpectedly got overwhelmed again and almost closed the laptop in frustration. 

But then I decided to pop over to my novel document (I always keep it open on my laptop so I can work on it whenever I feel the urge) and write down a new opening sentence that came to me the other night. (Why I get ideas right before I fall asleep is another subject for another day.) To my utter astonishment, I kept typing, the words spilling out of my fingers, energized as if from tiny lightning bolts. It wasn't a chore, wasn't a slog. The words came fast and easy. 

When I finished that writing session, I had nearly 500 new, good words. 

I've been searching and searching for a way out of this mental morass in which I find myself, this inability to sit down and let the words flow, this unhinged perfectionism constantly goading me. And suddenly, it just vanished. 

Was it because I'd already been writing on something else, and writing fiction was just, well, easier? 

Maybe.

Or was it because I already had a sentence in mind, and I wasn't even thinking of doing more than writing that particular sentence, and thus, I felt no pressure to write more?

Or, and this is what I believe to be true, I'd already written a blog post that day, worked on my paper, and thus, creativity beget (begot?) more creativity?

I'm going with that.

Writing those 500 words was sheer bliss. I enjoyed every second of it. This is what I've been craving for months.

I'm slowly finding my way back to me, the girl who used to sit in her basement during summer vacations and hammer out stories on her mom's manual typewriter, the teenager who eschewed going out partying in high school for staying at home to work on her new novel, the woman who devoured writing craft books and kept honing her craft, the woman who lost the love of writing through adversity, trauma, and despair, and is slowly finding it again.

Those 500 words lit the spark. I hope I can now fan the flame.

When You Want to Give Up...Don't

Today has been...difficult.

I woke up in a very bad flare. Everything hurts. My limbs feel like they're coated in concrete. I'm exhausted and have zero energy.

This happens every few weeks, and I try to pace myself so that it doesn't happen. I didn't do that yesterday, and I paid for it.

One of the symptoms of chronic fatigue syndrome (a.k.a. myalgic encephalomyelitis) is post-exertional malaise. That means if I overdo it on something, I pay for it. This can be exercise, household chores, going shopping, etc. It can also happen with mental over-exertion. This is why pacing is so important. If you push through, you'll only make yourself feel worse. In the long run, this can lead to terrible complications. Some people become bedridden.

The problem is that when you have a good day, you feel like doing ALL THE THINGS. Yesterday, I did a lot (for me). I worked on my class paper, wrote a blog post, wrote on my novel, took a long walk, gave the dog a bath, did the dishes, and washed my bedding. To most people, that might be a typical day. However, for me? It was far, far too much. 

When you have a flare, rest is absolutely crucial. You cannot decide to ignore it and go on with your activities or you might end up in the ER. I've developed some strategies for dealing with flares, and it usually includes watching comforting shows or classic movies, reading, finding inspirational quotes on social media, journaling, and working on puzzles. If it's not too bad, I will try and take a short walk But on days like today...that's impossible. 

Earlier, I wanted to cry and just give up. Give up on this paper that I'm writing, give up on the class I'm taking, give up my job, give up my writing...just quit.

But of course, this is only a temporary state of mind, and I recognize that. Still, it's important not to invalidate my feelings. Staying positive all the time doesn't work. There's a certain amount of grief that comes with living with chronic illnesses. My life will never be the same again. I cannot do all the things I once did, and yes, I mourn that old life. Acknowledging those emotions is crucial. That's why I journal, or vent on social media. Some people don't appreciate seeing me being real and raw, and would rather I just post happy, positive statuses. But that's not my life. And I've always made it a point to be the real me on social media, not some fake version of who others think I should be.

I won't quit. I'm going to write this paper and finish this class. I might not work on my novel today and that's okay. I can work on it when I'm feeling better. 

I've had to make lots of adjustments to my life, and I've mostly accepted it. But on days like today...oh do I get frustrated and upset and angry. 

But I won't quit. It's not in my DNA.

How Life Changes...

 I haven't posted on this blog in five years.

A lot can change in five years. A LOT.

On the personal front, I got a divorce, took a few years to heal (lots of therapy!) before I started dating again, entered the dating trenches in my 40s and had some good and very bad experiences, found a wonderful man, sold my house, moved to an apartment, and then two years later, moved into another house with my boyfriend. I also decided last year to start working on my PhD in history, a decision which, it turns out, might have been not exactly wrong, but untimely. I wrote and published a nonfiction book called WWII Nebraska, and sold a novel to Simon and Schuster UK. Whew!

I did a complete 180 on my political beliefs. I'm a moderate who doesn't like the state of my country, and find far too many disturbing parallels to 1930s America regarding fascism and antisemitism. Since that is what I study for my PhD research, it is a little disconcerting to be researching something that is so relevant today.

I read through some of my old blog posts earlier today, and I am just amazed at how much better my life is now. 18 years in a toxic relationship did a number on me, and made me sick. For years, doctors diagnosed me with rheumatoid arthritis. Last year I discovered that wasn't the case at all. I made several trips to the Mayo Clinic and they diagnosed me with fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome. Because of the abuse and trauma I endured during my marriage, my brain got stuck in "fight or flight" mode, altering how my brain perceives pain. There's a whole lot more to it than that, but suffice to say that I now have lifelong illnesses largely as a result of a painful marriage. I had to make peace with that.

But since those chronic illnesses have become worse, I've transitioned to working full time from home. I'm very thankful that my job allows me to do this.

And having a partner who loves me, respects me, and treats me as his equal is incredible. No more abuse. No more fights. No more drama. At first, I wasn't used to a relationship where I wasn't crying every few days or wondering why my partner thought cruel jokes were "funny." Fodder for another blog post, I guess.

I decided to start blogging again because it is time to rediscover me, the me who loves to write fiction, who loves to immerse myself in the writing world. Once upon a time, blogging helped me focus on my writing in a way I'd not experienced before. I made such incredible friends through blogging, and most of those friendships survive to this day. I hope by resurrecting this blog that I can form new friendships, deepen my knowledge of the writing craft, and become a more prolific writer.

I'm excited for this new chapter in my life to begin.

Join me on this journey!

Bring Back Blogging!

Well.

It's time to resurrect this ol' blog! I haven't written on this site since 2017. But I'm feeling sentimental, and I'm really eager to start blogging again. Read on for why...

Bring Back Blogging!

Way back in 2005, blogging was all the rage, and I decided I'd get in on the action. Over the years, I blogged nearly every day, visited other bloggers, widened my knowledge on the craft and business of writing, and best of all, made many, many wonderful, talented friends.

Blogging sort of died out with the advent of Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook. But with social media being inundated with ads, nasty trolls, and pithy, quick takes, I rather long for the days when I can settle in every day and read what my friends are up to without being distracted.

As I'm also trying to dive back into my fiction writing, I thought establishing a daily blogging habit might be the perfect way to create momentum. I remember being so inspired and motivated to write when I blogged and read what my friends were up to in their writing endeavors and their lives. So why not bring it back?

If you'd like to add me to my blogroll, please let me know in the comments below!

It's Time

I've had this blog for over 10 years. But I'm finding that I go to it less and less. Maybe it's the death of blogging that brought it about or maybe I've retreated more into writing my thoughts and feelings in my journal.

But I think it's time to bring my blog to a close. I've embarking on a new life and perhaps it is the perfect time to close the door on this blog.

I'm not quite sure yet if this will be permanent; we'll see.  I'd like to totally revamp my website and that might include a blog. I don't know yet. With my life completely upended this year, I don't know for sure what I want to do with things like this. Frankly, they've been the least of my concerns!

To all of my readers over the years, THANK YOU for being a part of my life! I've been so fortunate to meet so many people through blogging that I now call friends. What a blessing!

Until next time...

Melissa

One Day at a Time

I've always tried to live with this mentality: One day at a time. Unfortunately, when I implement it, I fail spectacularly. But for this particular moment in my life, that may be a good thing. Confused yet?

The pain I've experienced over the past six months has been nothing short of excruciating. I had days where I didn't get out of bed (thankfully, not many) and days when I thought the pain would never stop. I prayed for God to take it away, and sometimes, I prayed that I would just not feel anything at all. Numbness seemed a far better state of mind than the pain crushing my chest, of the way my stomach dropped to the ground at each new tidbit of information, of the searing torment of images playing over and over in my head.

But always in the back of my mind, God kept telling me, "This will get better. Give it time. Time, time, time."

So when I had those moments and those days, I tried not to live in them. I looked forward to the future, to a day where I didn't feel my world collapsing around me, didn't feel like my heart had been ripped to shreds, then taped together, then pulled apart again. And thinking about the future got me through those moments and those days and yes, sometimes those weeks.

I'm at a better place now, though most certainly not out of the woods. Time does, indeed, make a huge difference.

And through this whole experience, I've discovered that there are some things I can never enjoy again. I used to love watching the sitcom, Reba, but now I can't. Why? Because Reba's husband, Brock, cheated on her, then married his affair partner. The show centers around how Reba deals with this and unfortunately, her ex's new wife is always, always there. And the two women become close.

Nope. I can't watch it anymore. I want nothing to do with the other woman. She is not deserving of my time, my energy, or my thoughts. She is trash. Harsh? Not a bit. Decent people do not actively pursue married men. And married men do not allow themselves to be swayed. It's called being an adult. More people need to step up and and start taking their marriage vows seriously: To forsake all others as long as you both shall live. Those are not empty words you say to your spouse on your wedding day, in front of a judge or pastor, in front of family and friends. They are called vows. What is a vow? A solemn promise, pledge, or personal commitment. It's not something to treat with flippancy.

Hollywood seems to have a skewed and utterly disgusting narrative about affairs and cheating, that there must be something wrong with the faithful spouse  that forces the unfaithful spouse to cheat. Nope. That is not how this works. The unfaithful spouse makes a choice. No one is putting a gun to their head to have an affair. It is a choice.

Other movies and TV shows think that it's somehow romantic to fall in love and have an affair. Romantic? No. It's destruction on a level comparable to a tsunami or a magnitude 10 earthquake. People's lives are not a game. Playing with feelings, with bonds and trust and fidelity, is not a game.

An affair wreaks devastation in so many ways. The wayward spouse threatens the mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual health of their partner. STDs? Mind games? Gaslighting? Lies? Manipulation? All of it and more becomes part of the injured spouse's narrative. Each one is like a knife being plunged into the heart and the back simultaneously, digging deeper and deeper. Families, friends, and most importantly, the children of this union are affected. It is indeed the ripple effect.


Affairs destroy your trust in people. It makes you second-guess everything. I look at life through a new lens now, a jaded, cynical lens. I still want to think the best of people, but that optimistic outlook has been severely curtailed. I have heard too many stories from other people whose spouses cheated on them to think that all of humanity is fundamentally good. There are evil people out there whose sole intent is to destroy other human beings. That we marry many of these people is the heartbreaking part.

But here's the important part of this entire, horrid debacle: I am stronger because of what I've went through. I have a resiliency in me, a dogged determination to persevere, that cannot be destroyed. I am a survivor. I refuse to live life as a victim, to let someone (like my ex) manipulate me, emotionally abuse me (yes, affairs are abuse!), lie to me, and treat me with disrespect. I deserve better.

Some day, I will look back at this period in my life and marvel at how I rose from the ashes and emerged stronger and more resilient than ever before.

He did not break me. He didn't have that kind of power.

Home

Over the weekend, I traveled home to western Nebraska for my niece's wedding shower BBQ with her fiance. We held it on my brother's farm and even though it was hot, we had a great turn out and everyone thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

And me? I realized once again that I have an amazing family. We're not perfect, but we support each other through thick and thin. They've been my rock during this divorce  not only for me, but for my daughter, as well. Right now, she needs a good father figure to look up to, to see that there are men who take care of their families and do not abandon their responsibilities. My brothers fulfill that role incredibly well, and I'm so, so thankful for that.

There's something so peaceful about our farm. Under that vast Great Plains sky, you can take the time to listen to the wind rustling through the corn, watch the barnswallows flitting from place to place, breathe in the fresh, clear air, and truly relax. After the party ended, my daughter and I went with my brother to check water (i.e. make sure no ditches were broken and that water was reaching the end of the rows) and to look at the crops.

Childhood memories came back, of me starting tubes and digging ditches, of weeding beans and feeling hot and sweaty and dirty. I never truly appreciated the farming life, always eager to leave and go explore the world. Honestly, I couldn't live that life even now. But I understand it, the deep need to be your own boss, to plant seeds and watch them grow, and the fulfillment when the crop is harvested. I admire my brother a great deal for choosing this life.

Whenever I go home, I feel an incredible sense of peace. Here I reconnect with who I am. It also allows me to hit the "reset" button in my life. I leave with a greater sense of clarity in a way I don't when I go on vacation somewhere else. In short, going home grounds me.

If I had stayed in my hometown, I wonder if I would have a place that helps me find my center again? Perhaps not, which makes me appreciate it all the more.

One thing I will forever regret is the wedge my marriage put between my family and me. My ex stirred the pot more than once, but now that is all behind us. I'm so glad to make the bond with my family even stronger than before. I realize more than ever how truly blessed I am to have them.

The Power of Journaling

I've kept a journal since I got out of college. I honestly don't know what I would do without it. On those blank pages, I record the day's activities, comment on national and international events, and most importantly, pour my heart out. It's a place for me to take stock of my life and try to figure out why things happen and how I can work through them.

When my marriage broke up, I was journaling every single day. I filled up an entire journal within a month and a half, and will probably fill a second one in that same amount of time. Last night I wrote pages and pages.

And you know what? It has directly contributed to my healing process. I've been able to look deep into my psyche and make connections that I hadn't thought of before. In last night's writing session, I realized that I had been the rock in my marriage, the responsible one, the adult (I used to joke that I had four kids instead of three!), but that all the manipulation, deceit, lies, and emotional abuse had started to seep into my life, creating tiny cracks deep inside not noticable on the surface, but that were doing major damage to my soul.

And now? Those cracks are healing, filling in with strength and courage and growth. I am no longer the rock in my marriage, trying to hold it together and putting my best foot forward to keep it intact. Now I am the rock for me. I am the rock for my daughter. And that is all. I no longer have to be responsible for my ex's actions, no longer have to worry how his actions will reflect on me and my marriage. He is free to make his own choices and suffer the consequences. I no longer have to participate, no longer have to defend him, no longer have to suffer.

Without journaling, I don't think I would have come to that conclusion. And it is a very powerful realization, one that can free me in ways I'd not imagined before, and lead me to finally letting go of him and my marriage. The ability to be introspective, to delve underneath the layers of the superficial, is imperative to my healing journey, and journaling has made it possible.

Don't Live There

The night my divorce was final, I had another bombshell dropped on me: the ex and the woman he cheated on me with are moving in together. The pain was excruciating, and for the next few days, I felt like the wound had been torn open again. 

Throughout this ordeal, I've sought various ways to cope, and one of those is pinning quotes and sayings on Pinterest. It's made me realize that I'm not alone in this, that others have gone through this before and survived. I will survive, too. But I felt like I took another giant step back in my healing process with this new development. And honestly? How could I not? To be discarded so easily and so completely by a man I was married to for 18 years is horrific. 

Soon, I found myself feeling rage and bitterness again, feelings I thought I'd worked through already. Obviously not! Thanks to some very good friends, prayer,  and my therapist, I feel better. Oh, and writing. Did I neglect to mention that? I have filled my journals with so many words in the past few months...SO SO many words. That's who I am, and that's how I cope - through writing.

I also joined a support group for those who've undergone the same thing I have (survivors of narcissistic abuse) and it's a great comfort to find understanding through others. 

But today I discovered that if I wasn't careful, I could very easily live right where I am for a long time. In other words, instead of moving forward, I would remain right here, stagnant, unwilling to grow or change or learn, and feeding off of bitterness and anger and revenge. When you are surrounded by people who are all feeling the same way, it becomes all too easy to absorb the negativity. 

Now please understand, support groups are invaluable. I was able to learn a lot about narcissists and how they operate, their patterns, their traits, and that I was far, far from alone when it came to being treated the way I was. That was a balm to my soul.

But I also realized that there is a time for support groups, and then there is a time to leave those groups. I don't want to recycle the same drama I've been through over and over again. I want to learn from it, process all the feelings, understand it, and then move forward and grow. There comes a time when you need to leave the past behind instead of live in it.

There's a quote I found on Pinterest that means a lot to me now:

I've had several meltdowns in the past five months. But that's okay. I know I'm doing better. I know that six months from now, I'll be in a great place. This whole ordeal has taught me a lot, one of those being patience. I want to just not care what the ex does with his life now. But unlike him, I can't shut the door on 18 years of marriage by snapping my fingers. But some day? I'll not be so bound to him, and though I'm sure I'll always have a tiny spot in my heart for him, it will never be like it was when we were married. And that is how it should be.

I'm going to be just fine. I'm excited about my future and all the possibilities that were only dreams before. Hard days remain ahead, but I'll get through them. I refuse to give up. I've been set free!