Doubt

I’ve written a book.

Yep, a full on, 300 page manuscript that I’ve rewritten a good four times. I’ve kvetched, I’ve redone, I’ve rethought, and planned. I’ve spent a good year’s time avoiding the next steps because it involves getting other people to read it. How odd is that? But I’ve recently crossed that hurdle and signed up for crowd-funding so that I can hire an editor, which is no small expense.

The small amount of feedback I’ve had has been mostly positive, though it was put to me that perhaps, having only taken a single writing class, that I was getting ahead of myself, which may be true, but I’m still pursuing the dream. I’ve had to get myself fired up to do these things. A few positive signs here and there keep me going, but I have to say, today I’m hitting a doubt patch.

It’s been a long time since I’ve tried to read a novel just because every book I’ve read lately has had to do with either mental health, writing, publishing, or other non-fiction subjects. Today I started one I’ve been wanting to read for a long time.

Within a few pages, I noticed myself dissecting sentences, picking out and repeating similes, obsessing over structure and taking note of how the scenes opened, the portraits were painted, the wonder of the plot, and I was reminded why I love to read. It also came to my attention that my work is generally not something I would read. I started to compare. It didn’t turn out well for me.

I tend to get intimidated when faced with other people’s work. God knows, that’s how I ended up dropping most of my art classes in college. Painting: someone drew better so what was the point? Out. Writing: someone wrote better, the same. Music, film, photography, all ended the same way, though I still do all of those things in secret because I’m driven to.

When it comes to the book though, I want so much for it to be good. Of course, that’s  the point of an editor, to polish. I know my idea is good. I know that there’s something there, I’m just not sure I’m clever enough to write it. I can’t help but think that there’s someone out there who could write my story better, which is a toxic thought really. What came out of me is mine alone, but comparisons are making me doubt.

I’m terrified of having the review come back bad. I’m scared that I can’t do it, but behind all of that there is this need to try. Of course it’s horrid right now. It’s my first attempt at a book, but if I don’t go all the way with it, I know I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll sit and wonder what could have been if I hadn’t been so intimidated, so afraid. I suppose my fear is that it won’t be as good as it could be, that I can’t adequately translate what it is I see in my head, and that is frustrating. I also have trouble handling criticism. I take it as a sign that I’m just not good enough, not to try harder and work on it, but to just quit. Not helpful.

My big dream is that someone, and hopefully more than one, will truly like the story. That’s all anyone who writes really wants in the end, for something we make to translate into someone else’s experience, for the story to be meaningful to someone; a little bit of their life that was considered time well spent and enjoyed.

I suppose my lesson is not to compare. I should celebrate that I wrote a book in the first place, whether it be good or bad, it’s an achievement. I’m just never satisfied with small victories. I need to get to the next step and not stop until it’s the best I can do and all I can do. Then I can truly say I’ve tried. I just wish my brain would get out of my way. In the meantime, I really wish I could sit and enjoy this book! I’m going to try again…

Day 30: Happy Place

What is your “safe place” when you are upset? (This can also be a person.)

A safe place when I’m upset. Hmmm. I used to laugh at people when they’d talk about finding their happy place. It seemed so, well, Stuart Smalley! Now when I look at it, I think if I’d had a happy place (or a safe place), I wouldn’t have had the problems I’ve had to such a degree. There’s nothing really, or no place that’s a go to when I feel horrid.

In the past, and unfortunately lately as well, my happy place has been a cake, some whipped cream, or a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, and when you’re having a hard time it just tends to make it harder with the self-loathing that follows. Bad coping mechanism to say the least.

My safe place should be a cozy construct in my mind that resembles a velvet lined, horse-drawn carriage going down a dirt lane towards a country house in England, a library like something from Beauty and the Beast, or a Gothic house full of history to ponder and discuss by fireside. Until I manage to get myself to my destination of choice, I’m going to have to construct it entirely from my addiction to Masterpiece Classic.

However, this may as well be a real place, like a private room no one enters in your house (the study from Clue anyone? though that was hardly safe…) where you can be alone and look at your volume of British Birds to calm down. Something like that. Alas, I don’t have enough room in my house for a library. It’s been a dream of mine, to have a study. If nobody locks you in and the lead pipe isn’t missing from the locked cabinet, you’re golden. I’d love a real place I could retire to that felt safe. That safe feeling from childhood has been gone for a long time now. Far too often, the world feels nothing but dangerous and uncertain. That makes finding a safe place, be it within or without, a difficult task.

The beach has been a safe place for me most of the time. It’s an immediate calming agent, provided I’m there alone. Again, the boy has saved me more than once. He’s the anchor, the happy memories, the love, the comfort that I need during the worst of times. This morning alone, he asked me if I had a nightmare “because you’re hugging me like crazy!” It’s true that the boy is a little happiness machine for me, though that’s probably not fair nor sustainable since the teenage years *gasp* are a few short years away. I can’t imagine how I’m going to get him to hug me then!

Yesterday, in the middle of trying to write, I had a full on panic attack. It became clear that I really had nothing safe to anchor me. I laid down on my floor in front of the heater. I couldn’t imagine anything to calm me down. I couldn’t even breathe. I was crying and going into a derealization mode when the boy came over and started petting my hair and telling me he loved me. Like I’ve said before, nothing beats that. Nothing. But he won’t be here forever. It’s his job to grow up and find his own way and I’ll need to find mine. Once he’s in college I can always make his room a library, or build a bomb shelter in the back yard. The coping with food has to stop, so something has to happen. A dance floor maybe? As long as I don’t hire any maids named Yvette or Tim Curry as a butler, I think I’ll be alright.

Would anyone care for fruit or…dessert?

Day 17 : Fear

Day 17:  What are five of your biggest fears?

I keep trying to avoid this post. Could it be I fear vulnerability? I’m pretty sure that’s got to be something or this would be easy. Therefore…

5. Vulnerability – While I’m not entirely sure this shouldn’t be higher on the list, I’m pretty terrified of letting people in to see all of my squishy insides. That may seem funny considering I’ve been laying things pretty bare over the past weeks with these challenges, but when it comes to honest to goodness face to face relationships, there’s a pretty big wall to scale…and a moat…and a few sentinels keeping watch… That last guy had the key to every lock but it still took a long time for me to really trust him. Given the ending,  maybe I need another couple of walls…

4. Ridicule – This comes right on the heels of number five. There’s nothing like opening yourself up only to hear confirmation that you’re a giant Dorkenstein. My feelings of inadequacy run deep enough without having them all validated, especially by someone close. No one wants to hear that they aren’t good enough or that their work sucks. Of course, that’s something that comes with being human. We borderlines have pretty thin skin…more like none at all…so criticism cuts deep, and that self esteem train keeps passing mighty fast.

3. Loneliness – It seems rather ridiculous to fear something that you experience every day. However, this is more of a long standing fear that it will go on forever. People can endure anything if they only have the sense that it will end. That’s how I made it through childbirth with no pain killers. I knew the pain would end. My fear is more that my loneliness never will; that I’ll never have a deep and meaningful connection with anyone that lasts. I have some of the loneliest characters tattooed on me. I’m alone most of the time…in my office all day, at night after my son goes to bed. You’d think I’d be used to it but I’m just frightened it will continue like this forever, and that is an unbearable thought.

2. Abandonment – More awful than having no one is having someone you care for and losing them. There’s no greater pain and in this particular illness, it’s a HUGE piece of the puzzle. I don’t know if it’s chronic instability that makes us need to hang on to people but the thought of someone that I love leaving or forgetting me simply causes a tsunami of fear. It’s extremely hard for me to let people in but once I do and they get past all the protective gear, the thought of them looking around and saying no thank you is a horrifying one. I don’t know where it came from. My mom never left me overnight in the supermarket or anything. It’s just been there for as long as I can remember.

1. My son – No, my son doesn’t terrify me… well, that one interpretive dance was pretty scary…However, something happening to him does. It’s the biggest fear I have because not only does it mix losing the most important person in my life and hit me at my most vulnerable, as it does all parents, but it hints at something beyond my control. I can’t protect him 24/7 as much as I wish I could. I’m also scared that by virtue of how I am, he will learn the same faulty coping mechanisms and become unhappy and fearful himself. I want my son to be much happier than I am, and so far, he really seems to be, but, on occasion, I see hints of my anxiety, my self-loathing, my impatience, and an inability to deal with less than perfection. While I never pressure him on any of these things and try to reinforce the things my therapist teaches me, he is, after all, mine. His programming comes half from me. He lives with me. His childhood is filled with memories of my reactions both good and bad. The last thing I want to do is scar him for life and turn him into a neurotic mini me.  I’m truly trying to turn the helm to healthy for him. I can only hope I’m successful.

Today has been a challenging one. I’ve had one of my “Old. Alone. Done For.” days where the alone fear really sunk in. Time is mercilessly marching on and I need to face every one of these things head on. We shall see if I or the crocodile will win. Tick Tock…

Day 11: Anchors

Is there anything you do that helps keep you grounded?

Why yes, Professor. As a matter of fact there is. It’s less something I do and more something that keeps me from going too far afoul of where I should be.

My son.

It’s not an off the wall answer. In fact it’s pretty typical but I can say, like so many others before me and mean it, that my kid has saved my life. I wouldn’t be here without him.

During every depressive episode where I’ve thought of doing myself in, he’s the thing that keeps me holding on. The past several days, I’ve only made it through the day by looking forward to seeing him at the end of it and having a cuddle on the couch. When I cry, though I try to shield him from such things, he comes up to me and hugs me and gives me kisses so I’m not so sad. Last night, for example, when he could see that I was struggling and trying not to cry, he came up and smiled and wrapped his little arms around me and told me that he loved me. No amount of affirmations, vision boards, or goals can compete. Nothing beats that. Nothing.

My therapist yesterday was talking about anchor thoughts to hold on to when I’m going off a cliff into the ocean of big emotions. Even if I can’t see the shore, or even have faith that there is a shore to swim to somewhere out there, I do have the thought of my son. In my darkest moments, no matter what he’s done or how mad I get, it’s the thought that he would never understand if something happened to me that keeps me afloat.

Of course there are other things, my writing goals, my family, the things I’d like to see, and places I want to visit. My grand dream of getting to England is one of the stronger anchors, but in the really dark times, I can’t see the foggy forest for the trees. Singing is another. Singing is great if you’re in the midst of anxiety or any other fit of emotions really. It releases so much. Sing out those feelings! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sung/cried the lyrics to a song I love to just get it all out. It also helps you to keep breathing regularly and fends off anxiety attacks. Singing is great.

So, for right now in my time of bitter regret when I’m thinking of how I’ve been had and what a maroon I am, you can bet your butt that I’m singing…loudly and possibly badly just waiting for the time when I can go home and cuddle with my kid. It’s those small things in life that turn into big things when you look. For right now I’m digging into the rock on the side of that cliff and slowly climbing up. It may take a while, but the weather’s nice and at the end, though I can’t see what’s ahead, I’m going to just pretend I get cake!

Why not? Whatever keeps you afloat!

Day 8: No. 2 Pencils Only

Question 8: Do you have any other diagnoses? Which ones?

This is a cheerful list of questions now isn’t it? Next they’ll ask why my Aunt Griselda decided to disown the family and why, or what that growth is on Uncle Otto’s shoulder. Seriously I should have read them…Anyway, other diagnoses.

It’s a rather short story.

I was first diagnosed a while ago with general anxiety and depression back when I pregnant and getting divorced. It was a hard time, They put me on antidepressants and that was the end of it. After a while, I  stopped the pills because I had to breastfeed. That was my first cold turkey stop of the meds.

A few years later my doctor put me back on antidepressants because of my anxiety and once again, after a while I didn’t feel like they were working and I wanted to go all natural so I stopped all of the pills I was on. I felt good for a long while but as it always did, the anxiety and depression cycled through and snowballed until I got so run down I couldn’t function, think, focus, or even stand up without dizziness. This was the time leading up to my breakdown. I call it a breakdown because it culminated in me unable to get up off the floor and unable to stop crying. It was a scary time.

Once that pile of fun occurred, I was finally sent by my doctor to a therapist and a psychiatrist. I’m still in the midst really of finding out just exactly what’s going on with me. I was first diagnosed with Severe Panic Disorder and Severe Depressive Disorder. Then it progressed and my upswing happened and I was showing signs of possible BPD, Bi-polar and maybe even PTSD, which are under one umbrella of dissociative personality disorders. I’m still not quite sure what exactly is going on. I’ve just begun to travel down the rabbit hole to discover my particular brand of madness. Everyone has their own.

As time wears on, I may discover something wholly different from what my current labels are. For the meantime we’re sticking with the Severe Panic and Depression because apparently the other things aren’t deemed serious enough to be covered, which amazes me since those things have ruined my relationships for as long as I can remember. I’m thankful that I’m now aware of it. Hopefully no more labels fall my way but if they do, I’m ready with sword (pen) in hand to start hacking away.

 

Day 7: I’m Not Myself Today

Question 7: Have you ever dissociated? If so, how often?

For everyone who doesn’t know, which included me too a few months ago, dissociation is a term that encompasses a variety of experiences including derealization ( a sense of unreality) and depersonalization (the feeling of watching yourself as separate) and other forms and varying degrees of detachment. It’s all extremely hard to imagine until it happens to you. When it happened to me, I was convinced that I was crazy and almost got on the bus to the hospital so they could lock me up.

I have had moments a few times under extreme stress. To my friends, these moments are described as going “Pink Floyd”. I feel like my hands are suddenly numb and the first thing I do is hold them up to see if they feel like they belong to me. It sounds bizarre, and believe me the feeling is no less so. That first depersonalization moment when I felt like my hands weren’t mine, was one of the scariest things I ever felt. I thought I had gone past the point of no return. Everything went numb and then that strange feeling took over. I was staring at them like they were on tv, like I had no control over them, They were alien. I remember it vividly. I was standing in the kitchen next to the sink. My husband had just told me that he was leaving. I felt so much all at once and then it felt like I hit tilt…overload.

The second time was similar and also after a point of great stress. At this point I was on my way to work walking the last stretch and trying to decide if I should take the shuttle back toward the hospital or continue on to work. I went to work and then it didn’t happen again. Not until recently.The first therapist I ever had shrugged it off as not that serious when I finally told him about it. He never bothered to explain exactly why or what had happened to me. I was amazed that anyone would classify those experiences as not that big a deal.

Over the years as my anxiety increased, the numbness returned a little at a time, but I never had another as severe until I wore myself down with constant anxiety to a breakdown. With severe depression and panic I ended up with a new therapist who was much more understanding. I ended up back on medication but in the beginning I had one more depersonalization episode and this one was by far the worst.

It was in the midst of a panic attack. I called my therapist to ask for guidance.  I went for a walk afterward to distract myself from my thoughts but outside didn’t look quite right. I couldn’t feel my feet or my legs though I was walking. The flowers that were normally my favorite and would bring a smile didn’t faze me. They seemed colorless as did everything else. I continued moving, or watching myself moving forward. Then something happened that finally shook me awake…after the fact.

I got scared…by a little girl…

I was watching her cycling toward me on her little scooter, pigtails flowing back behind her and, well, I stood terrified in the middle of the sidewalk. I even walked in the other direction until she passed so I could continue on home. Whether human contact was too much at that moment or if it was simply that anything would trigger my panic I’m not sure. The good thing was that it passed and gave me a reason to laugh at myself eventually. At the time it was terrifying and the world, for a few minutes really did exist in shades of grey. I look back and think on that numbness as the opposite of how things usually feel. This is an illness of extremes. That is the terrifying opposite of my normal which tells me how far my pendulum swings.

Day 6: Insert Morrissey Song…

Question 6: How’s your love life? My first thought was to start off with a fit of mad laughter a la Jack Nicholson’s Joker. That mad laugh/cry he erupted into upon first seeing his face after being dropped in the vat of chemicals by Batman was pretty much my reaction to the question. I mean, come on! My love life? A question about that now?!

I suppose the reason it stings is because my hopes and dreams with DG have just gone up in flames faster than Atlanta in Gone with the Wind. They were nice dreams. They encompassed more than my romantic hopes but my career and travel goals as well. Now I have that pierced through the heart feeling and nothing will fill that emptiness. I guess that’s the empty feeling so talked about in borderline circles.  Just last night I became the tired cliché, eating a pint of ice cream in sweats and watching things that made me cry. I had no desire to do or even plan anything that before would have lit up my entire mood.

You know what brought that on? He signed off quickly for the millionth time, but when he abruptly left, he signed off with “All the Best” where he used to say “Love” or “Yours” or “Always”. I know it’s normal and friendly like it should be now that things have been returned to a status of “friendship”, but it gutted me, obviously. A tiny thing flips a switch and I feel it like a tidal wave. It brought to light something else. Simply by the way I am, I push people away. I have for a long time and I began to see the pattern and how it fit with the definitions of Borderline.

I spent some time talking to a trusted friend and I can say that I’m coming to realize just how hard it is with me reading every little shift of interest as the end of all hope and the impending departure of my friend/partner/whatever. It’s a little hard to take. I mean, how can I ever expect anyone to deal with me? It makes the future of a love life look bleak indeed. In that light, seeing that all of my desperate attempts to have someone care for me as much as I care for them is futile. All of my anxiety and pain seems like cheap melodrama to those around me because they can’t feel it or even imagine it…I just look like a drama queen having fits, but that’s not really the case. Feelings sweep me up and overwhelm. Everything is a reaction to them. No premeditated dramatic soliloquy possible. Just a trigger and an opposite reaction, though in this case, not equal…

Once my friend knew that this is what I was feeling and not me in some way trying to comment on his lack of friendship, and that some decisions I needed to make at the time I simply couldn’t because of those triggers, it made our friendship so much smoother. It reminded me of something I watched last night that hit me like a ton of bricks and explained the situation perfectly and succinctly. Kevin Bacon’s character in “The Following” has a habit of pushing people away out of fear and being unable to let people in, not unlike a borderline (you’re either all in or all out). His partner was giving advice to someone who cared for him. He said, “He’ll push, just don’t budge.”

Just don’t budge.

That’s what it’s going to take. I don’t know all that many people with that kind of patience or the understanding to know that it’s all unconscious on my part. The anger, the depression, all of it. I’ve been truly lucky a few times in that I’ve found two best friends, one of them oddly my ex husband, who won’t budge. If I get truly lucky, maybe there’s a guy out there who’s willing to stand his ground as well. Until then, I’ll be here eating my ice cream.

A New Challenge

So being greatly in need of venting and for a reason to write…actually I’ve had plenty of reasons to write but I’ve tried to take some care of myself for a little while with varying results…I’ve found a new 31 Day Challenge. I’m a few months late but I figure, better late than never.

It’s one that is newly close to my heart as I’ve recently found out that I’m likely to be suffering from this particular “personality style” as it was put to me. I also may not know for a few years if it’s “Borderline” or “Bi-Polar”. Yay for me! As frightening as it’s been, it’s also made sense of so much I’ve felt in the past, so I’m counting all revelations good…well,  these next ones take some effort…

It’s been a rough week of vacation. I finally had the conversation and DG and I are no more. It seemed to be his idea as much as mine and although I knew it was coming, it was still a huge loss. I lost an important relationship in him. I also experienced the sudden death of another friend and nearly lost myself as well while driving.

I nearly drove off a cliff. For real.

You’d think one near fatal car crash would be enough wouldn’t you? It’s really true, never drive angry or upset. To be clear, no, I didn’t do that on purpose. I was thinking too much, upset by recent conversations and couldn’t have picked a worse road to go down in that state. Sea cliffs and sharp drops. I may be a drama queen sometimes, but that’s not my preferred way to go. I think I’d go more for a theatrical scene more than squished on a rock, but I digress… I had some extreme anxiety and panic attacks afterward but it also made me think.

All the talk you hear about living in the moment finally hit me after all of that happened within a few days. Oddly enough it came to me over a pear. Yep, a squishy, gritty, sweet, bell shaped, near-rotten pear. I’d gotten a bag of them and meant to eat them, I really did. Time went on and I’d look at them and do something else. I was down to the last one that looked somewhat viable but it was a toss up. I stared at it.  I thought about it for a minute and thought, damn it I really want a pear. Just eat the damned thing! What are you waiting for? If you want a pear, eat a pear. What if it’s the last pear you ever eat?

Yes, it’s a random train of thought but it brought home the larger point. What am I waiting for in all areas of life? If I want it, do it!

So, one thing I want to do is write about this new road I have to travel. I figure, if you have something you’re going through, and sharing about it might help one person, it’s worth the time…plus I get to write and (hopefully) remove some of the stigma. There’s other stuff that comes up and it’ll all be good. I get to learn what it is to be human and how to choose what that looks like for me. What better journey could a person have to explore?

Day 15 – Closure

Day 15 and we’re half way there. Today’s subject is truly difficult. I thought I knew what I was going to write about but a strong feeling of being punched in the gut has instructed me otherwise. I promised myself I’d be 100% authentic in this challenge and I intend to keep that promise to myself. It may not resonate with everyone, but honesty is usually the best way to go. So, narrate a conversation between you and someone in your life who you never had closure with (a friend, an ex, a family member, etc.) What would you say? What would they say? What outcome would you hope for? Instead of a two-way conversation, I just have something to get out that doesn’t really require response and would probably do better without one.

I’m not sure what outcome I’d hope for. I’m not sure what any of it is about. I don’t know what I want to be said. I just feel awful and I’m not sure exactly why. I thought I was over this. Long over it. The last time we talked about it, you told me you had still harbored feelings but no longer did. It was too late for me to do or feel anything about it. I was just stunned for a while and then got over it, I thought I had…again. Now, hearing how much you like someone else should make me happy. It gutted me instead. I didn’t expect that. I have no basis in reality for it. Perhaps I’m just selfish and don’t want to be replaced. I have noticed your absence. I did figure that your time has been spent mostly now with the new friend. Why am I not happy? Why do I feel pierced?

There’s nothing to say and there’s nothing to be done. It didn’t work before. Nothing has changed so much that it ever would now. It’s old water under a crossed bridge. So why am I crying? There’s no point opening up old wounds. This time it happened to be accidental. I’m sure it’ll close on it’s own. I don’t want it to mean that you don’t tell me things. I don’t want it to mean that you keep secrets. We’ve always been open about everything but this. I will learn to handle whatever this is.  It’s that old fear of being left alone. It’s the bigger fear of losing the best person I’ve ever known over something that should have been easy and should have flowed. I’m no more ready or stable. I’m certainly no younger or any more free-spirited. I guess I wish we could just have been more open and had it all on the table when it mattered. There’s really nothing to say now that does. No outcome that will make any difference. I just love you. I guess I always will. It will never be a “thing” and that’s okay. It obviously wasn’t meant to be and I’ll deal with it. Just don’t ever go away.
WM

Day 14 – Now With 30% More Happiness!

Describe the last moment you felt really, truly blissful. According to commercials, I should feel pretty blissful every time I do everything from crack open a new box of dryer sheets to indulging in a tiny square of chocolate. I’m pretty sure I’ve never made the bliss face like the ladies in the yogurt commercials. Maybe the chocolate did it once, but I doubt that’s the kind of real bliss we’re talking here.

When trying to think back on a time when I felt truly peacefully happy, I have a hard time. I’m not really the blissful type…or the relaxing type. I have a lousy tendency to ruin my quiet moments by thinking about things that I should be doing instead of enjoying myself. As a single mom, there are more chores than I care to think about. I do occasionally catch myself in a me moment but not much does it. Even during my last bath I was uncomfortable, vanilla scented salts and all…

I started with  a memory of the beach. Where I currently live is the furthest from the beach I’ve ever lived. Until now, I’ve always been within walking distance. There’s a real sense of inner peace that I’ve gained from the ocean during every crisis in my life. The past several times I’ve managed to get to the nearest shoreline, my son has not enjoyed it much. He’s a mover. He needs to entertain himself by climbing and jumping and dismantling things, so sitting pensively and listening to the waves isn’t in his nature. That joy is something I miss and it’s a memory that’s far too old.

Then it hit me. Not long ago, I did find myself grinning ear to ear, excited and truly happy at the core. Something I never expected happened and it lit me up inside.

When I started this challenge. I did it as a personal jump-start, like a writing prompt because I’d been blocked for so long. I also loved the idea of delving a little further into those questions. I was used to no one reading this page but me. Then my friend read it. Then a few. Someone I didn’t know read it, and then I got a like. Then followers! Soon…minions! Bwuhahahahaha!

Ahem. Ok…maybe not.

Anyway, I’ve had quite a few more than I could have expected. When I saw that I had people reading it, I was first completely nervous, but then, I felt awesome. I had such a sense of happiness and I remember noticing that I was grinning wide which usually makes people run for the hills since it’s such a rare sight, people assume I’ve cracked…kind of like seeing Wednesday Addams smile…but smile I did.

I’ve been working so hard to make my book happen; so much time worrying and wondering what the next step should be, that I hadn’t taken the time to enjoy the process anymore. How can I find my voice? How can I find which way to go? Can I ever write anything again? How will I know if anyone will ever enjoy this stuff? Fret, fret, fret. It’s my M.O. Doing this turned out to be the greatest kick-start I could have asked for. I feel a bit of momentum behind me now and a lot of gratitude for everyone who’s looked at the page. It truly has brought me happiness. My few posts are certainly no grand accomplishment, but I never expected the confidence I’ve gained from it or the renewed enjoyment of writing. It’s been the best kind of gift. Plus, it’s a really good excuse to get a new party dress!