Last night was eye opening in the worst way possible. Not going into it because well, who really wants to be a Debbie Downer on Monday. I mean it’s already Monday.
So last night the ugly cry and I met again. It was bad. UC (Ugly Cry) gut checked me so hard my eyes are still a bit puffy. Distraction didn’t work, switching from sadness to anger didn’t work, neither did the idea of sitting up and writing work. I wallowed in my misery well into the wee hours of way past my bed time and around the corner from blaring alarm o’clock. I really was eyeballing myself by 3am. Seriously, for the love of cute panties and segzy times, I was getting on my own nerves.
I finally calmed down enough to make a plan. I wrote in my journal—digital because I was not getting up and turning on a light. When I was done, I side-eyed myself as that mournful ache started to creep back in. I raged—silently because minion was asleep with it being ungodly o’clock and all that jazz—before I turned my attention to my 2016 Bucket List.
I keep it in the first planner I’ve kept up with longer than a week. It’s all decorative with small tasks to try and do. Things like solo date night. That’s what I decided on completing. I’m investing in myself by going to see Deadpool. Yes, that’s an investment considering last year I would have reasoned and argued why I couldn’t or shouldn’t enjoy a little time to myself.
Last year I let a ton of things get in the way of my growth as a human being. Stagnation leads to death in my opinion and I was doing a slip and slide towards an early grave courtesy of high blood pressure and stress. Still, the things I usually turned to—writing and gaming—were doing nothing for me. I had no problem wasting away hours on a game. I just oddly felt apathetic about the entire thing. Writing on the other hand was almost a complete wash.
Let me be clear. I’m wasn’t waiting around for the inspiration to write. I have never needed that. I have, however, needed energy. Between Fibromyalgia, juggling a full-time job, minion, illness after illness, depression, and adjusting to a few curveballs thrown my way, I was tired. I was mentally exhausted by the end of the day to the point that I had nothing left in me to create.
For me writing is freeing. I never feel closer to the person I want to be than when I am lost in the words I put on the page. Meet me in person and I will talk your ear off about all the things I’m working on. Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that I am able to recall all of the series I’m working on (plot lines, characters, and overall outcome) though most of them are only in the outline/pre-writing stage.
I truly live to write. It’s why a bulk of what I talk about is writing or books I’m working on. I don’t typically give advice. I can only tell what I love and that is to simply drift away in my own make believe universes where dragons exist, gods walk among us, and serial killers may or may not be totally insane. Mine totally are, but they seem so freaking normal. Except Hunter. Don’t go anywhere with that guy. He’s a total nut bag.
2016 is the year of me. In the past it was always the year of us. Those years I put myself on the back burner. I set myself and my own needs aside in order to not complicate the lives of those around me. For the sake of my sanity and general well being, I will take better care of all of me. I won’t worry about getting healthy so that I can take care of this person, look out for that one, be able to do this and that for yet another person.
They say you can’t help anyone unless you first help yourself. Here’s to me helping myself. I’ll be at the movies if you need me. 🙂
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