The Only Constant Is Change

doctor wibbilyThe only constant is change. I am sure that is a quote from someone much smarter than I am. I cannot recall who it may have been. It is a truth that my life feels like it is trying to prove these last couple of months though.

I lost the best boss I’ve ever had, but was able to reposition her into a ‘awesome friend‘ slot. So she isn’t gone from my life, just from that one spot. I left the job I have spent nearly 7 years of my life at. The place that ate up half of my nights every year. I left behind good friends and routine. I even stopped writing for a period of time.

I had a moment of evaluation and came to the conclusion that things were not as they indianashould be and that I was not happy. Then I came up with a plan to fix that. It sounds easy but it was not. It was terrifying. It was a doubt filled tangle of What if’s. It was a massive black hole of: But how do/will I…

Then I took a step. And then another step. I am still scooting along, one step at a time. The ground still feels unstable beneath my feet but that hasn’t stopped me yet. The changes are probably not all over yet either. I am in transitional limbo. In September or October things should feel more solid.

hobbitI have a new job now. I am still in training and have five more weeks of it to go. I love it so far. My kids are signed up for a new school. I signed up to go back to school and my classes start mid August.  I no longer work nights. I no longer have to drag stacks of totes larger than I am. I started writing again.

I have no doubt that my writing will be the slowest thing to advance simply because of all the other obligations. Not because it isn’t important, but because it is. I have to learn patience with my writing.

I get in a hurry and I often don’t do the best job I can. I want the story told. However, I also Writing-furiously[1]need to tell the story right. I need to let go of the rush, rush, get-it-done and just tell the story. It’s like turning the oven up as high as it can go. Yeah, it will cook the pizza but it probably won’t be very tasty. I want to make tasty pizzas…er stories. (I am writing this too close to dinner time.)

Anyway, the point is I am taking more time with my writing and therefore I will hopefully be churning out a better quality of fiction. As a result of this and my other obligations I may not be updating my blog as often. My normal routine has been to post once a week on Mondays. From now on it may be once a month or once every two weeks. I am not sure yet.  I will try it until I decide that the schedule doesn’t work, and then change it again. Or life will change it for me.

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Unburden

I know you are supposed to be careful what you post online because it will be there forever and possibly the whole world can see it. If you wouldn’t say it in a crowd of strangers then you shouldn’t say it online. However, at the moment I feel a little heart sick.  I think that if I were standing in a crowd of strangers that if they would listen I would talk.

It isn’t exactly one thing that is weighing on me. In fact things should be looking good in my life right now. Tonight is the last night at my, to pay the bills, job for a week and the kids have a long weekend. I am up to date on the bills and while I do still have to buy groceries, I should have a little left over to do something fun with the kids while they are out of school.

So why do I feel like crawling under my bed, building a blanket fort, and staying there?  Well, I a sure part of it is the anxiety depression talking. I know that and yet I can’t just make it go away by simply knowing that it is causing problems.

Another part of it is that I got into an argument at work and thoroughly lost my temper. It has been a stressful week. The boss was on vacation, the pharmacy practically imploded, and there has just been one minor crisis after another. Then one of my co-workers decided to confront me because another co-worker told him I got upset because he left an hour early the day before. It was true. I did get upset. Instead of sticking around for his assigned hours, I felt like he pushed the whole mess into my lap and left me to deal with it alone. There was a ton of work to be done and from what I could see he hadn’t even attempted it.

From his point of view, it had been the day from hell and he just wanted out. I do understand that. It has been that kind of week. However, I still do not think it was wise to pull me to the side the next day and attempt to give me a lecture over why I should not have been upset.

People are entitled to feelings. Yes, I was upset. But I continued to do my job, had a good rant while in the office, and then tucked it away because there were more important things to do. By the next day I was over it…until the lecture began. Then it was all new and fresh, no sleep with a side of pissed off.

The fact that he tried to justify himself by bringing up my own faults was just gasoline to the fire. Shaking and teary-eyed I had to turn and walk away before I did something that my boss would have had to fire me for. (The fact that the co-worker in question is over a decade younger than me and over a foot taller didn’t help matters.)

The boss was back the next morning and took care of matters but she had a sudden death in the family so she is off again on bereavement. The death happened around the same time as the argument with my co-worker.

I talk to customers at work, turn on the t.v. at home, or pick up a paper, and all I see is a world gone mad with too many people hurting themselves and others. I hate it. I want to fix it but I don’t know how. All I can do is write about it. I can write out my hurts, that are so insignificant to the larger ones like losing a loved one. I can unburden my heart with words on paper.

It doesn’t really help the world, but it does help me deal with it and keep moving. Maybe if more people could unburden themselves in a similar fashion the world wouldn’t be as tied in knots as it is.

Breathing past the anxiety demon

Happy Monday everybody. I am sitting at my computer this morning watching the sun throw tree shadows against the neighbor’s house as it climbs up out of it’s Eastern bed. My house is quiet because the kids are at school and the cats are asleep.

It should be peaceful. Unfortunately I am doing battle with that inner demon called anxiety today. I’ve been having problems with it since Friday. Standing in the cold in the middle of a crowd on Saturday didn’t help matters, but it was the Christmas Parade and my daughter was walking in it.

Depression keeps wanting to kick me too. Anxiety and Depression kind of go hand in hand for me. I get frustrated with myself for the panic and jittery feelings bubbling up inside and then I get depressed because I want to just ignore it and move on with life. I have things to do. I don’t have time to fall down that winding stairway of panic.

To combat my demons I have Christmas music playing and I plan on digging out decorations for the porch later. I also need to mail out the Christmas Cards for Addie we made yesterday. I try to focus on good things.

As long I as I keep moving forward the battle against my anxiety won’t get too out of hand. It is when I sit down and let it overcome me that things get bad. Funny how the easiest way to beat down my inner demons is just to recognize they are there and then breath past them. It is still a fight, even if it isn’t a bloody one. Writing it out helps too.

Broken Ankles and Writing

Stress_FractureMy son has a hairline fracture on his ankle. We think. Apparently it is really hard to tell with kids because their bones are still growing. We have to wait until the injury begins to heal to find out if there is actually a crack. There will be calcium deposits along where the fracture is healing.

I am not sure what they intend to do once they verify his ankle is indeed broken, but right now we have it in an air cast. He takes ibuprofen and Tylenol for the pain and my dad made him a cane to help him hobble around. Funny thing is though, the pain in his ankle seemed to grow on the way to school this morning.

Don’t get me wrong. I am positive he is in some pain. The thing aches even when he isn’t using it. However, the whimpering coming from my back seat was no where in sight until we left the house. He managed to limp to the bathroom and his bedroom without much complaint, but the closer we got to school the more it seemed to hurt.

It’s Monday. I understand. I didn’t really want to get up this morning either. With the help of the principal I got him out of the car and on his way though.  Then I began to think.

I thought about my son and his aching ankle and came to the conclusion it is a little like writing and writing time. You set aside time to write, but the closer and closer it gets to that time you have more and more things to do, or maybe you find more and more excuses not to sit down.

I’m just not feeling it today. I’ve got writer’s block. My hands/back hurts. I really should get to that laundry/dishes/vacuum. 

Sound familiar? I do it too. Writing can be hard. Often we want to just wait until it motivator312687f0669fbfe47c2a3fe4249375fe980cc139becomes easier. We put it off because it is difficult. The problem with that is, you aren’t going to get better and it isn’t going to come easier unless you do it.

You just have to put your butt in the chair and write. Use duct tape if you have to.

*sound of tape ripping*  Someone remind me to pick up a new roll.

Hello Monday!

10502233_10201355538529691_2457240744323550533_nHello Monday! It has been a busy weekend. My son had his 10th birthday Saturday. His party was a success as far as kids having fun. But then what isn’t to love about box forts and water balloons?

I am excited that the kids go to school today. It means that I will have my computer to myself for a few hours. Ever since their’s have been in the shop it has been a constant stream of “Mommy can I borrow your computer?”  So far they haven’t fought over it much. They take 1 hour turns. The problem is I don’t get a turn, and it’s my computer.

I have plans of writing today. I also have to go to the chiropractor. I’ve done something unpleasant to my shoulder and my back has been hurting for days.

I am pretty sure the writing is going to get messy today. I have had too many writing road blocks lately and people have gotten on my nerves. I also just watched this video about this high powered gear chopper thing that shredded large objects. I am sensing a steam punk story with an epic battle sequence worthy of a 90’s action flick.

 

Labor Day

gear-408364_640This Monday begins a new month and also marks a turning point in history. In the United States, during the industrial revolution, work weeks were often 12 hours shifts, 7 days a week. Children, barely more than toddlers, were working in factories and mines instead of playing games. No kindergarten for these kiddies. The whole family had to work to make sure mouths were fed. Working conditions, especially if you were poor or new to the country, surpassed dangerous and sometimes were just plain deadly.

Labor Unions began to form and began protesting the poor working conditions. In 1867 the government signed into effect a law regulating working hours for federal employees and Illinois workers, changing their shifts to an 8 hour day.  May 1, 1886 there was a movement to include the rest of the nation.

The thing is, they never actually enforced the law. A shorter work day and better pay work-384745_640sounded great to overworked, underpaid employees. So union banners were taken up and the peaceful protest marches began.  Some employers feared a “workers revolution” so they quickly signed on for shorter work days.

May 4, 1886 a rally was organized in Haymarket Square to protest the shooting of striking workers by the Chicago police the day before. The turn out was less than what was expected and the speakers either didn’t arrive or were late. Rain began falling toward the end of the rally which sent some of those who had hung around scurrying for home.That was when the police showed up to disperse the rest and chaos erupted. Someone from the crowd threw a bomb, shooting began which led to the deaths of seven policemen and four workers.

No one was sure who brought a bomb to a peaceful rally, but blood had been spilled so someone had to answer for it. Eight men, (*Cough, Cough, scapegoats) were rounded up and charged. Seven of the men were sentenced to death and the last one was give 15 years in prison.

matchstick-20237_640More strikes and more rallies happened over the next eight years, but it wasn’t until the American Railway Union began a boycott of Pullman railway cars and brought the nation to a stand still, that notice was finally taken.  Pullman Palace Car Company, maker of railway cars, had cut hours and fire union representatives. The workers went on strike and the boycott began. Things got so bad, troops had to be brought in. Which, of course, outraged many and started a wave of riots in Chicago.

In 1894 Labor Day became a Federal Holiday.  So now, on the first Monday in September, we sit around the barbeque with our friends and family enjoying the holiday.  Kids don’t have to go to school and the banks are closed so everyone can have a day off.  (If we aren’t scheduled to work.)

 

 

 

 

 

Thoughts Before The Alarm

toby feetSometimes I wake up an hour or so before the alarm goes off. If I am still really tired, and my mind hasn’t woken up yet, it is easy to just roll over and go back to sleep. Those times are few and far between however.

I often wake up and find my mind has been in over drive and is still running strong when my eyes pop open. Sometimes that takes the form of weird half remembered dreams. Sometimes it is the 3a.m. epiphany that has me scrambling for pen and paper in the dark.

(3a.m. epiphanies tend to be an interesting thing for me. Either it will be this great idea, that truly is great, but I won’t be able to read what I’ve written later. Or it will be a crappy idea that I thought was great at 3a.m. in the dark. I don’t turn the light on because the only thought I have after that happens is: “Ahhhhh! my eyes!”)

This morning I woke up with my head hurting like my brain has been going for Olympic gold in mental gymnastics and practicing while the rest of me sleeps. I had a thousand and one thoughts running through my head. Part of me was excited because obviously my brain isn’t a dull as I have been lately beginning to believe. Part of me was mad because my head hurt and I had two hours before the alarm. The last part of me, the writer part, was all: “Go for coffee and write it down! No skip the coffee! You might forget something, Go write!”

Art by my 12yr old daughter
Art by my 12yr old daughter

Which is why I stumbled through the dark to my bedroom door intent on reaching my computer. The problem was I forgot about “The Horde”.  Nope, that isn’t a rock band or the misspelling of all the crap littering my hallway.  That is in reference to the trio of cats who occupy my house. (Panda, Casper, and Max.) They look cute and fluffy but nothing stands in the way of their breakfast.

 

So as I stumbled down the hall it was to amax sleeping chorus of meows and the feel of little sharp kitten claws. (Max doesn’t meow much. He is blind and I think meowing messes with his radar or something. I don’t know. Maybe the other two put him up to the biting because they know he is a baby and I won’t do anything to him. Whatever the reason, kitten claws and teeth hurt.)

pandaNormally, by the time I make it to the kitchen and feed them all in order of rank, (This is important. There will be a war if rank isn’t followed. Panda always gets fed first.) any idea that is still hanging around is a strong one.

So what did I think about this morning that had me crawling out of bed, stumbling to my computer before coffee, and facing The Horde two hours early? Heck if I know, but I thought if I was here anyway I might as well write.