It’s been awhile since I could even think about my second book much less put pen to paper. While life is still hectic; I’ve found a moment here and there to write. That’s a good thing. I’ve felt both guilty and lost the past couple of months I haven’t written anything worthwhile. Guilty I’ve neglected my assignment and lost I haven’t engaged in an activity that’s as vital to me as breathing. I tried to write. It didn’t work. I didn’t have the physical or emotional fortitude to wallow in the darkness long enough to share anything of value while my Mom was ill. Now that she’s home, I’m in a different place. So, here it goes.
I’m still brainstorming what I want to include in my second book. I know I don’t have it right because the ideas aren’t flowing easily as they should. While I know the general concept, it’s the additional ideas I want to weave through the story that give me pause. I’m still trying to decide whether my content should be one book or two. Honestly, I probably won’t even begin sifting through my thoughts until January. I work retail . That says it all. In the meantime, I’m going to blog about anything and everything that crosses my mind to get back in the writing game.
What’s on my mind at the moment is a sermon I was listening to this morning on tv. This Pastor is very real and very relatable. He touched on things I still struggle with from time to time. Don’t get me wrong, as far as I’m concerned, I’m healed and restored. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t have brief moments of depression or worthlessness. I just stay diligent reminding myself I can’t be depressed if I’m not willing to embrace the emotion. I’m not being overly simplistic or insensitive. I just happen to know my past (and sometimes present) real, crippling bouts of depression come from how I perceive myself. Not from a chemical imbalance or any other physical cause. It’s emotionally based and always has been. Every self-loathing, suicidal moment I’ve ever experienced can be traced back to the self-hatred caused by some form of abuse or loss.
To cut to the chase, I know if I allow old habits and old perceptions I’ve laid to rest to rise again, I have to fight the battle I’ve fought so many times all over again. Between you and me, that gets old real fast. It’s far better to nip that sense of worthlessness in the bud before it takes root in my psyche again. Right now, it’s a constant battle. I won’t say it always will be. I don’t believe that and I won’t call that state into being. What I do believe is I’m a little over a year from making peace with myself and that isn’t long at all. I have old injuries that took longer than that to fully heal. That being said, only a fool would expect to be completely free of a lifetime of physical, mental, sexual, and emotional abuse in a short period of time and I’m not a fool.
Instead, I’m a woman eagerly anticipating the new life she so recently embarked on. I’m also a woman who’s come to realize we all have skeletons in our closet. We all have experiences in our past that cause great shame. It doesn’t matter your gender or sexual identification. We’re human. What does matter is two things separate the victim from the survivor.
The first is some of us allow that shame to cripple our lives while others eventually confront their negative experience(s), make peace with what happened, and move on to live the life they were meant to live. The second is that some of us use our past traumas to benefit others while others leave those wounds to fester in our souls. I did both. I was very willing to offer my support to other wounded people one on one; but, I never truly dealt with my own wounds. Not a good thing.
On the surface, I functioned well within society. Other people valued me for what I could give them; but, I didn’t value myself. Whether anyone saw it or not, I’ve been a psychological mess for most of my life. While I don’t have a lot of material things to show for forty years of working, I’m college educated and I’ve always excelled professionally even when I didn’t think I did. As sad as it is to say, when you’ve convinced yourself you’re nothing you can’t see the “something” others know you are. If you’re anything like me, because of self-perception, you’re blind to the edifying moments that could change your life. Again, that’s a sad thing.
While I haven’t wrapped this post up the way I expected, I’m going to exit here. Sometimes introspection does more to heal than any words I can type. I’m going to leave it at that.
See you soon, Calla
I don’t know what I hit to cause this garbage down below; but, I can’t make it go away right now. I’ll figure it out eventually. In the meantime, I’m going to post anyway! Calla
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Tori Lennox Author 