Just a Thought

What is the best gift a writer (or aspiring writer) can hope to give to someone they care about? What is the best way to show that you love a person? It’s simple. Write a story for them. Tell them what you think, what you feel, and try your hardest to convey it all in the words of a story. Sometimes the wording may not mesh exactly right. Sometimes a phrase becomes mangled. But usually, if you’re careful and you put everything you have into it, you can get the feelings across. And that’s the important part.

I screwed up. I screwed up the same way a person developes an illness. You don’t mean to get it, but it just happens and there’s nothing, if anything you can do to stop it from happening. The only thing to do is to pick up the pieces, hope they can fit back together, and get better.

“Woo me,” they said with a smirk on their face, as if I haven’t been trying from the start. As if I hadn’t been called the Best Girlfriend Ever multiple times just for being myself and giving thoughtful treats that were well received.

Oh yes, I screwed up. I didn’t mean to. And we’re back to that space before the starting line all over again, it feels. But you know, there are moments, a few very special tender moments, when I realize that maybe it’s not so bad to go backward like this every so often. When was the last time I felt such a thrill from just the thought of a hand upon my cheek or so grateful for a single hug that I know will feel warm and safe? When, before this mess started, did I stop appreciating the person before me?

Sometimes, we all just need a little reminder of what we already have and how wonderful it can be.

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“Let the Challenges Make You Strong.”

I apologize to whomever cares to read this that I’ve been silent for the last few weeks. These past few weeks have been a bit rough for me. Between personal problems, health issues arising from said personal problems, and another push to find employment of some sort, it’s not been fun.

To put it simply, something in my life had me suffering a full-blown anxiety attack. I’d never had one that bad and over the days afterward I had mild aftershocks. Two days ago I had another one that left me terrified of some other health effects. Stress always goes straight to my stomach, so I lost a few pounds as a result. As of today, I’m happy to report that my stomach is no longer hating me upon waking up in the morning. I can eat a little without feeling nauseous or like it’ll make a return appearance.

It’s kind of sad when that’s my happy moment of the day, isn’t it? And truth be told, I’m a little disappointed in myself. I’m the cause of my personal problems. It’s a psychological issue and it amazes me how much control the brain and emotions can have over the rest of the body, how much damage we can do to ourselves just because of fear and anxiety or whatever.

A friend of mine shared an image via Facebook today. It’s a classic motivational poster type image with a scenic background in muted colors with an inspirational quote on top in white letters.

“Look for something positive in each day, even if some days you have to look a little harder. Let the challenges make you strong.”

And it made me realize that even though I used to do that regularly, I haven’t been doing that much, if at all, recently. The question of “when did I stop” floated near the surface, but in the end that answer is irrelevant. When I stopped doesn’t change when I’ll start again. But it does bring to mind a truly relevant question: What other good habits I once built for myself have I been ignoring and thus forgetting? What did I used to do that made me happy and fulfilled that I’ve stopped doing for one reason or another or no reason at all?

I used to meditate. I used to do regular tarot readings for myself because it made me think about my life and feel good (even when the reading was more negative, I still felt good for some reason). I used to dance regularly. I used to sing more. I used to sit at my computer and write almost daily. I used to sit down and enjoy a few cups of tea in the afternoon (haven’t been since my stomach has been upset, but I’m fixing that today). I used to go for morning walks. I used to stay up well past midnight and enjoy the quiet that comes from a house at rest. I used to play more puzzle and hidden object games than I do. I used to devour books and not feel bad about it. I used to go out for myself every couple of weeks (now it’s once a month if I’m lucky, and I’m not counting going out to fill out an application as “for me”).

So what am I doing to fix all of this? I don’t know yet. But I need to. And the consequences are mine alone to suffer.