Peaceful Death

We all want to believe there is a place we go after we die. A better place. We use this to comfort us when loved ones die and on the fateful day when we move on as well.
In the past two weeks, I lost my adopted grandmother. She was the sweetest lady on this Earth. The very first day I met her, in fact, she told me she loved me. The thing is, she meant it too.
The day my boyfriend told me his grandmother died, I fell onto my grooming table in tears. It’ll be impossible to accept this lady’s death. But, she was constantly sick. Not just sick with the flu or something like that, she had pnenomia, could no longer walk, had to breathe with an oxygen tank, and could no longer leave the house.
She is in a much better place now. She can run with the best of them.
Today, I’m facing the death of a dog. It’s not my dog, it’s my future father in law’s dog. He’s 15 years old and has lived outside his whole life. For the past two weeks though, his body has begun to shut down. Today he can’t get up to do anything. When I try to hand feed him, he spits everything out. It’s the saddest thing! As I wait for his human daddy to come home from work and take over my vigil/deal with it, I’m left thinking about death.
I see it as a peaceful thing. Often, it’s after a huge and painful struggle that a person dies. Once it’s over, there’s no more pain.
So, if you would, pray for my adopted family and I as we mourn both the loss of this amazing hunting dog, and the sweetest grandmother ever. Even though I see death as a peaceful thing, it’s not an easy thing to accept for those left behind.


Dead Zone

I’ve been in a creative dead zone for several weeks now. I haven’t been able to write more than a paragraph in any kind of story. I wish I could say the reason was because I don’t want to write, but I can’t. I really want to. I’ll sit and stare at the computer or a notebook for hours before I put down a single word. It’s starting to affect my brain and drive me insane(er).
This past weekend I went to San Antonio, thinking it would help the creativity come back. It did in some ways. A location change always helps in some way, shape or form.
I live where there are no tall buildings, where the ground is flat, where the grass grows nice and tall, and where tornados are considered entertainment. San Antonio was completely different. There were so many tall buildings that I could no longer tell my north from the south – and I’m usually really good at that. And so many people! Which made me nervous, being the social introvert I am.

All kinds of possible stories entered my mind, but not all the way. They would try, but they would bounce off of my skull like it was a trampoline and run away to someone else.
Now that I’m home again, I’m sitting with  a brand new notebook and pen in front of me. Still nothing. Nothing except a name for a character.
Wish me luck.
It is needed.

One Week of Failure

This past week, I completely failed at my resolution/goal/thing. You know, the one to write every day? The one I didn’t even make (to loose weight) is going quite well. But, the one I care about more than the poofiness of my belly isn’t happening.

In my defense, school started this past week. I’m only taking 12 hours, too. That’s the least amount of hours I have ever taken in college. Already I’m having little anxiety attacks over the looming homework. I have to be an actual ‘leader’ in Business Leadership and seriously go out of my home to do social things. I’m a God damn follower people! A God damn follower with a social anxiety disorder! I swear, they plan on killing me.

The total writing amount for this past week probably added up to about an hour. I feel like a failure on it. After all, I want to be an author. Not only that, a full time author. Yet I can’t even write when life gets slightly hectic. So, right now as I go through random anxiety attacks and depression because my dreams temporarily are exploding in my face, I will decide that it’s not the end. One week of failure isn’t the end.

   “Let me let you in on a little secret. When you are learning to write, you are going to suck. You are going to suck a lot. You’re just going to keep sucking for a while, and feel like you’re sucking, and actually that’s a sign that you’re completely on the right path.” – Maureen Johnson

I’m not sure if failing to write counts as sucking at writing, but the quote gives me hope. I give myself permission to suck.