I was perusing Pinterest the other day and read the following: “Writing is easy. Just open a vein and bleed.” Ain’t that the truth? I’ve been working on writing two different books and feeling a little anemic right now.
I’m alive. Thanks to those of you who have asked where I’ve been and why I haven’t posted in a while. I’ve written many drafts over the past week. I’m being selective with what I post. You may say to yourself, wait, the wonky girl posts some pretty raw stuff. Or, she lays it all out there, no sugar coatin’. Yes, those sentiments are true. Let me just tell ya, the stuff I’ve not hit the publish button on would curl your toes!
I started out, writing for an audience. Now, I write what I need to write. If you read my ramblings and said ramblings resonate with you, o happy day. If I make you think, make you feel uncomfortable or anger you, well, then I’m a better writer than I thought. If I stir fond memories and shake your soul, bring tears to your eyes or make you giggle or gut laugh, even better.
Blog topics this week would have included: Judge Kavanaugh’s accuser, a text from my mother and a Facebook post that enraged me. I wrote. Believe me, I was not short of thought or words. Oh! I almost forgot! The upcoming holiday season got some attention as well. But at the end of the day, I decided those posts weren’t necessary.
I try not to ramble on politics but it’s getting more difficult daily. I have to ask myself, Julie, do you have anything fresh to add to the narrative? Nope, not at this time. So what’s the point? Rest assured, when I got somethin’ fresh, I won’t be shyin’ away.
Being as you have followed my recent journey with my mother I feel affectionately obligated to keep you abreast of her condition as well as mine. What I’ve realized this week is it’s time to let go. I received a text from her this week as did my sister. “Hi.” Not exactly what either of us anticipated or needed. There were no words of reconciliation. There was no I’m sorry. I did get a “thanks for coming to see me.” She is refusing to follow up with therapy. She is adamant about not attending therapy. This refusal was my deciding factor. My aha moment. By refusing to attend therapy, she is telling everyone around her, I don’t give a damn about you or myself. If she is of sound enough mind to refuse treatment, she is of sound enough to get it. Thank God I made my peace in that hospital room over a month ago. I said what I needed to say. She claims she doesn’t remember me being there. I think she does. Either way, my conscience is clear and I’m sleeping a little more sound at night. Forgiveness and a clear conscience aren’t indicative of a heart absent of hurt or anger, however. Those emotions are coming from a different place now. I’m learning to store them in a different compartment.
The Facebook post that got under my skin is not worth mentioning yet here I am giving her meme posting ability merit. My response? “When you build in silence, they don’t know what to attack.”
The holidays are not jolly for everyone. As Thanksgiving 25 years ago marks the beginning of my mother’s suicide attempts, well you can imagine the dark cloud that hangs over my turkey and dressing. Add to the season, in-law tension and well, can we just skip over it all? I know I’m not alone when it comes to dreading the holidays and festivities. BUT – in an effort to stay off the naughty list, I’m going to focus on what Scrooges like myself can do to make it through without sucking the fa-la-la out of everyone else’s tis the season! Be looking for those posts in the near future.
Fear not, I will never shy away from writing about what disturbs me, what I fear… what breaks my heart. Those are the things that I need to write about. After my wounds heal I will reopen a vein and bleed some more. I’m not afraid to be split open emotionally. In fact, I’m ever willing. I just need to take a break and read a good book. Jane Austen’s Emma, if you’re curious.
I’ll be ramblin’ again very soon! Until then, keep it wonky y’all!