Flashlight for the Soul

My apartment?

Has Halloween decorations already. Even the front door currently sports a pumpkin welcome sign.

I love Halloween. The spook factor, the decorating, the fun. There’s an atmosphere, a vibe to Fall and Halloween that, for me, is intoxicating.

I’ve loved it since I was a wee mongrel.

I grew up watching creature features and immersed in Halloween joy. I’ve always lived in stories inside my head with the monsters, with the unaccepted and frightening things.

Halloween feels like home.

…aaaaaand so, the celebrating begins.

 

Here’s my reasoning.

Christmas Eve is an actual part of Christmas. Following that line of thinking, September is part of Halloween.

September is, after all, October Eve. And October IS Halloween. Making September Halloween Eve.

Makes sense in my world.

 

We all need something to shake the dust from the joy and creativity in our souls. We sometimes pack it away or put it on a shelf, forget what it feels like to be alive.

Its the little things. The flashlights into the darkened corridors of our rib cage where things hide that we need to wake up again.

Don’t feel silly for enjoying things, even if others find it silly.

It isn’t silly. What brings us joy is never silly.

 

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Dominate and Eradicate Self-Hate

Good morning. 😃

I do hope you are feeling well and know you are loved.

I’m getting ready for work and simply wanted to pop by and remind you that you are fabulous!

You can totally crush this day. Whatever is presented to you – whether new or old hat, easy or something you’re not certain you can do – you can do it.

You are worthy, good enough, lovable, capable, and stronger than you give yourself credit for.

After all life has thrown at you, you are still here and trying. That means you have a 100% success record.

Never give up on yourself. Even if others do. You keep stretching toward your dreams and hopes and never compromise your standards and values.

You are not alone.

We have got this.

Wish Me Luck

I have begun working on ANOTHER work in progress story. I really enjoy this one so far and I feel like it can blossom into a story I will continue to enjoy.

This is the 5th WIP I have begun since I realized I wasn’t writing for me or the stories I wanted to write. Since then I have decided that I am going to simply keep beginning stories until I find one that is truly MY STORY to tell, instead of something I know will be “acceptable”.

I don’t think the purpose of a writer is to tell the safe stories. I think we are meant to poke at what people don’t want to but know they need. To make a safe place to deal with emotions, fears, questions, doubts. To hold a mirror up to the reader, to community, to society as a whole. To create a home where we want to live with characters who treat us with respect, kindness, and dignity while being honest and candid. A story is an escape from all the ugliness this world can throw at us. It’s a way to recharge, reconnect with ourselves, our dreams, and with others.

A story can not be any of these things if I am playing it safe. If I am afraid to be who I am as a writer.

No, I won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. But no one is EVERYONES cup of tea and that’s kind of the point.

So wish me safe travels, will you?

I’m packing my bags, putting on sturdy shoes, and jumping off the cliff, into the unknown.

(A novel is 80,000 to 100,000 words.)

Soul Under Construction

I understood myself only after I destroyed myself. And only in the process of fixing myself, did I know who I really was.

– Sade Andria Zabala

I used to think I understood this quote. On some level my soul recognized its truth, and I knew it meant something for me. A blurry old friend I never remembered making but KNEW I was intimate with even if I didn’t recognize their face.

I get it now.

I Have a Better Question

Do you ever feel like a marionette?

The daily to-do’s and responsibilities as your strings?

Only they’re made of steel. Filling up your eyesight and jerking you from here to there. Yet leaving you oddly hollow, skin tight, eyes forcing themselves to stay open through what begins to feel like a meaningless shuffle for a cardboard crowd.

That’s how I feel today.

Tired.

Pointless.

Where’s the joy for life? The promise of something better?

Some days I feel like no matter how hard I try to climb my way out of this revolving door – I’m still here.

Still fighting.

For more.

Something better.

 

What to do?

I mean, we have so many options.

We could always give up, give in. Let depression bury us in a myriad of distractions, mind-numbing things we do because it’s what we always do and we’re just so tired and change is hard.

We could let anger turn into bitter resentments. Become a nasty human who only spreads misery, always has a reason to martyr themselves or explain why they’re not responsible or how it’s someone else’s fault.

We could go the illegal route. Hurt or exploit others for money.

We could slap on a fake smile and pretend everything is just dandy while inside we slip further and further into oblivion. Lying to ourselves.

Or we could keep fighting.

Hoping.

Trying.

Looking for the positivity.

Doing what we can.

Enjoying the little things.

The little successes.

Keep finding a reason.

 

You see, I think we search too much for the meaning of life.

We’re here. I think that’s all the proof or validation that we need.

I think the point is to live our own life as best we can, treating ourselves with dignity and love, and then trying to help others.

I think our purposes can change as we do. But if we’re not really living life, then we’re not living up to our potential.

 

Enjoying life is easier said than done.

I’m still depressed, sitting on the couch, wondering why I bother to write, since I haven’t finished a novel I like yet and haven’t been published yet and simply lack for direction in my life.

But it’s a low day for me. I recognize that. Yesterday was a great day. And the day before that. I’m going to exercise in less than an hour from now and I know that always elevates my mood. I still feel like I’m running on a hamster wheel, though.

The reason I’m telling you this is, I think we can feel so stuck, so miserable, and fight for so long – that it feels like nothing will ever change. That we’ll never fight our way to the top of our own struggles.

But we will.

We already have.

What was so hard to you three years ago that felt like it would never end? Something you’ve conquered?

We’re stronger than we think.

We’re allowed to feel tired and depressed and sick of always having to fight for what seems to come easily to others.

We just can’t let that keep us from living and enjoying our own lives in whatever healthy ways we can.

 

Everything is easier said than done.

There are days where we question the point of our existence. But I have a better question.

What’s the point of giving up?

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Because the Second One is Complicated

Here is the third painting I have done.

I did it while hanging out with mom and watching the movie “August Rush”.

Let me tell you, artists are pretty insanely intelligent. There’s a magic to painting something. It frees up the soul, erases the weight straining it down.

Try something out of your typical creative field. Trust me. It fills you up with inspiration.

And don’t worry about being “good”. Just have fun. I’m no Monet but I’m certainly going to keep painting because of the way it makes me feel.

If You Ask the Universe – Careful What You Wish For

It’s funny.

The choices we make.

I swear, the moment I ask my Higher Power for help on something new, how to deal with it, how to gain it…

I immediately get a testing experience that will painfully help me out.

Like they say, careful if you ask the universe for patience – you’ll come upon a new experience in life where you’ll have to develop loads of patience.

I guess that’s why they tell us to be careful what we wish for.

When’s the last time this happened to you?

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