You will blow us all away, someday...

We'll be mad, and explore. 

We'll recline a loft upon the breeze. 

Dart about, sail on with with ease. 

Pass the days doing only as we please, that's what living is for. 

Some things are meant to be, the tide turning endlessly,

the way it takes hold of me, no matter what I do, 

and some things will never die, the promise of who you are, 

the memories when I am far from you.  

- Beth, Little Women (the musical)

Today I am sad.  I do not know why, there is nothing that has sparked it.  But I felt it almost immediately upon waking this morning.  Perhaps a lonely soul is calling out somewhere far away, and somehow my own has heard it, and wishes to ease their suffering by taking on some of the burden.  

Sadness is not common for me. Well, no standard "emotional response" really is common for me. I used to think something was truly wrong because of this.  Everyone around me seemed to be enjoying "feeling" emotions like they were normal and healthy...and I, was awash in a sea of dispassionate reason, completely baffled as to why those around me would get emotionally worked up over what seemed the smallest things in life. I did not look down on anyone for it, it was just confusing.

I had to learn early into my teen years how to emotionally respond to things. Well - how to appear to emotionally respond to things, in order to feel like I could fit into the world I had been born to. I learned what my face was supposed to look like, what my body language needed to be. I had to learn, step by step what was a socially acceptable, reasonable and expected response to various life...things.  I'm sure this is why I have always loved theatre so much, it feels like home to me. 

Sometimes this skill was valuable - I didn't get too embarrassed as a teenager and never can I remember caring whether people "liked me" or not.  Mostly because I watched people so much, and was acutely aware of the fact that just about everyone was mostly focused on themselves, which meant that as long as my actions/reactions, words and responses were not louder then their own inner dialogue; their own inner fear of rejection, no one would pay attention to me. I learned how to be loud, only when I wanted to be. I learned how to supplement the inner dialogue of those around me to achieve what I needed. A valuable, tool...though not always a very kind one. 

Sometimes this was more challenging, for instance in relationships. Making friends with other girls was not easy, I didn't get them, they didn't get me.  However, making friends with boys was too easy, but came with a whole other level of complex emotional responses I was not prepared to deal with. 

It is not to say I do not experience emotions at all - music for one, is a great exception. I feel emotion very strongly through music - and have occasionally while watching a show or movie as well. But they are not my own, only borrowed, and I am very aware of that. 

REAL emotions (strong ones anyhow), have always been very physical for me - much like hunger is a physical "feeling." When I am truly sad, I cry - that is how I know I am sad. When I miss someone, it physically aches when I am not with them.  So naturally, I want to be with them so the ache goes away.  When I love someone, I want to protect them, keep them safe. The idea of them getting hurt, lost, sick or worse... feels catastrophic. So when I try to imagine living beyond that catastrophic event, it is like imagining breathing under water. The result of emotions being so physical, means they are also extremely exhausting. Because of this, I try to avoid them as much as possible.  I just don't have the spoons to spare. 

Small emotions on the other hand - such as annoyance, excitement or...umm...I ran out.  What other small emotions are there? I know there are more!  I just can't think of them at the moment....errr...yeah. So anyway, I feel those too.  But it is on an intellectual level.  I know I feel them, or rather, I know I should feel them. So I do...I just don't actually feel them...do you feel me? 

It wasn't until I took an online Meyers Briggs test for the first time, probably 5 or so years ago that I learned that my lack of "feeling" was not because there was something wrong with me.  It was simply part of my personality.  

intj

MBTI. Commonly called "The Mastermind." Often seen as arrogant, aloof, or haughty, but in fact, INTJ's just don't care at all what you think about them. They value facts and logic above all else, and scorn illogical reasoning. One of the hardest things to understand for an INTJ is emotion, and decisions made because of emotion. 

INTJs are direct, and if they have a problem with you, they will tell you. If they think you're not worth their time, they won't try to push you away, they'll just completely ignore you. 

INTJs enjoy thinking about theories, and tearing them to bits, not because they disrespect them, but because they like pointing out what would work and what wouldn't. For the above reasons, the biggest insult you could give to an INTJ would be to completely ignore their theories.

The two hardest things for an INTJ to understand are irrationality and emotions. 

And please, no hugs.

Mind you - that is a small snippet.  But it is a basic outline of what I first read when I randomly took a MBTI test.  

After I read my results, I started researching (as is consistent with the personality...) and was completely shell-shocked with relief that I was not broken after all!  I also discovered that INTJ is one of the rarest personalities for females...which is why I have never felt like I fit into any female group that I have been a part of, and why I have never found books/talks/lists/articles/etc. aimed at women to be something with which I can relate.    

It also explained my need to question all authority, to analyze people and their reactions to life. To research to death anything that scared me, because knowledge is power. It explained why I loved to argue, whether I agreed with my side or not.  That the battle was a part of the process to discover truth.  I love being right, but if I am wrong and you present an intelligent reason why, I will concede my position in a heartbeat and gladly celebrate with you your victory.  After all, the only reason that I am often right in these arguments is because there is a good chance I have spent time researching it - so if you have too, even if we do not agree, you have my utmost respect. However, if you argue something you know nothing about, with "I think I heard it somewhere" as your only resource? I very well may think you are a moron. 

So that is why I was a bit confused when I woke up this morning feeling sad. 

This has been a season of changes.  Good changes, but changes none-the-less.  I think that one of the changes that I have come to recognized is my eldest child exiting her small child persona and dipping her toes into the vast ocean of tween-dom.  
She will be 10 in just a few short days, a whole entire decade. This feels big to me, beyond the shocking realization that I am old enough to have a 10 year old.  That I have been a parent for 10 whole years! 

10 years ago, I faced a whole new chapter in life, full of very real changes that I had never before faced. 10 years ago, I was mentally preparing myself for the world ahead. I was excited, exhilarated, aware of just how monumental it all was, terrified through and through...and interwoven through-out all of that, I found that I was sad, but in a happy sort of way. Sad for a life left behind, sad for a part of me being put aside for the unforeseeable future. Put aside so I could focus completely on a new and very important thing that was all of me and none of me all at the same time. Sad because part of me was going to sleep, so that someone new could wake up.

10 years ago seems like yesterday and 100 years ago all at the same time. 

The memories of the physical pain I endured for months and months while pregnant with her and for months and months after. The process of raising a baby with barely enough money to pay for food (and our $450 a month duplex, that still makes me shudder to remember!), no car or way to get around when I was home alone with a baby 8 hours a day, and no close friends that could even remotely understand. I used to walk for hours, miles and miles almost everyday just to get away - even in 100 degree heat. I relied on my online friends (some of which I still regularly talk to) and my husband because there truly was no one else, at least it felt that way. 

Many good memories, many hard ones.

Was it really 10 years ago? 

This year has been a very interesting one so far. I think I have rather liked it so far.  I have moved onto a new chapter in my life, and will soon be delving deeper into said chapter - and this will mean very real changes. Changes I have never before faced. It is exciting, exhilarating, monumental, terrifying and it is something that I think I didn't expect: It is sad, but in a happy sort of way. Sad because there is a part of me that is being put aside - the part that has been so completely focused on something that is not me and is completely me all at the same time. But guess what - there is another part of me that gets to wake up! 

Sadness is not common for me. Well, no emotional response really is.  My emotions are stunted if measured by normal societal scales, it is something I will likely struggle with for the rest of my life. 

I have in my parenting - been utterly afraid that my lack of natural empathy would somehow hurt the emotional maturity of my kids. While I have done my best to teach an empathy I do not feel, my mediocre acting skills can only go so far. So I had to smile today as my soon-to-be-10 year old happily bobbed out of her room because she HAD to show me a poem she had read. It is found at the very end of the book Little Women (a story we have been enjoying in its many forms lately). She had tears in her eyes as she told me of the poem.  She loved it, completely.  She has already started memorizing it. I asked her why she loved it so much and her exact words were "I love it because it uses big words to express big feelings!"

I had to smile.  My ten year old is already leaps and bounds beyond where I have worked to be for 34 years. How did I manage that? She is emotionally mature, able to express it and control it. She can recognize it in writing far beyond her age range and loves it so much she is compelled to share her delight with me! I can take no credit for this milestone, this was achieved despite me. The girl is truly fantastic, all on her own! She has worked hard to make sense of her own emotional world, and thus far she has done WELL. That makes me so very proud.  

And I must admit, in a way that I didn't expect: It also makes me kind of sad, in a happy sort of way. Sad for a childhood that is just beginning to be lined with the shadows of a setting sun, but oh so very happy because there is a part of her that is just waking up. It is exciting, exhilarating, monumental, terrifying and oh it is so very, very spectacular! 

Happy early 10th birthday my Taylor. You will blow us all away with everything you do someday, I know it. 

Because it has big words with big feelings, here is Taylor's Little Women Poem:

In The Garret

Four little chests all in a row, 

Dim with dust, and worn by time,
All fashioned and filled, long ago,
By children now in their prime.
Four little keys hung side by side,
With faded ribbons, brave and gay
When fastened there, with childish pride,
Long ago, on a rainy day.
Four little names, one on each lid,
Carved out by a boyish hand,
And underneath there lieth hid
Histories of the happy band
Once playing here, and pausing oft
To hear the sweet refrain,
That came and went on the roof aloft,
In the falling summer rain.

'Meg' on the first lid, smooth and fair.
I look in with loving eyes,
For folded here, with well-known care,
A goodly gathering lies,
The record of a peaceful life--
Gifts to gentle child and girl,
A bridal gown, lines to a wife,
A tiny shoe, a baby curl.
No toys in this first chest remain,
For all are carried away,
In their old age, to join again
In another small Meg's play.
Ah, happy mother! Well I know
You hear, like a sweet refrain,
Lullabies ever soft and low
In the falling summer rain.

'Jo' on the next lid, scratched and worn,
And within a motley store
Of headless dolls, of schoolbooks torn,
Birds and beasts that speak no more,
Spoils brought home from the fairy ground
Only trod by youthful feet,
Dreams of a future never found,
Memories of a past still sweet,
Half-writ poems, stories wild,
April letters, warm and cold,
Diaries of a wilful child,
Hints of a woman early old,
A woman in a lonely home,
Hearing, like a sad refrain--
'Be worthy, love, and love will come,'
In the falling summer rain.

My Beth! the dust is always swept
From the lid that bears your name,
As if by loving eyes that wept,
By careful hands that often came.
Death canonized for us one saint,
Ever less human than divine,
And still we lay, with tender plaint,
Relics in this household shrine--
The silver bell, so seldom rung,
The little cap which last she wore,
The fair, dead Catherine that hung
By angels borne above her door.
The songs she sang, without lament,
In her prison-house of pain,
Forever are they sweetly blent
With the falling summer rain.

Upon the last lid's polished field--
Legend now both fair and true
A gallant knight bears on his shield,
'Amy' in letters gold and blue.
Within lie snoods that bound her hair,
Slippers that have danced their last,
Faded flowers laid by with care,
Fans whose airy toils are past,
Gay valentines, all ardent flames,
Trifles that have borne their part
In girlish hopes and fears and shames,
The record of a maiden heart
Now learning fairer, truer spells,
Hearing, like a blithe refrain,
The silver sound of bridal bells
In the falling summer rain.

Four little chests all in a row,
Dim with dust, and worn by time,
Four women, taught by weal and woe
To love and labor in their prime.
Four sisters, parted for an hour,
None lost, one only gone before,
Made by love's immortal power,
Nearest and dearest evermore.
Oh, when these hidden stores of ours
Lie open to the Father's sight,
May they be rich in golden hours,
Deeds that show fairer for the light,
Lives whose brave music long shall ring,
Like a spirit-stirring strain,
Souls that shall gladly soar and sing
In the long sunshine after rain.

Failure is always an option...

Failure is always an option

- The MythBusters

Oh yes, I went there.

A new year is upon us.  2015 is done and gone, the world is new and bright (and at the moment very wet with a much needed rainstorm).  My first writing day of the new year has already been half spent writing to my property manager about the 4 roof leaks we have so far discovered with the aforementioned rainstorm...and vacuuming my living room so if she stops by she will not think we are total animals.  I have a terrible headache and my coffee is almost gone.  In celebration I will post my grumbley day poem, since I wrote it so I can.

 Today is a grumble-y sort of a day

For crossing my arms in that sort of a way,

for stomping my feet and shouting and yelling

for glaring and smirking and outright rebelling

Today is a day that is good for hurumph-ing

for closing my eyes and slugging and lumping

for making a mess on the newly cleaned floor

then running as fast as I can out the door!

Today is a wrong sort of terrible day

but not in a tangible, regular way

It just feels like everything I do is wrong

its hard and its weird and it takes far too long

So though it may seem just a little cliche

childish, self-centered and rather passe

I'm staging a protest, I'm finished, I'm through

At this point there's nothing that I plan to do

I'm done being useful, I've come to the end

I'm too tired, even, to try to pretend

I'm done being grown-up, I'm going to quit

It's been slowly coming, I have to admit

So if you might need me I'm going to be

Up high at the top of a very tall tree

I'm making a fort, and that's where I”ll stay

All through this hurumphing-ly grumble-y day

So if your day's grumbly and sluggish and lumphy

Come join me, my tree-fort is really quite comfy

There.  I feel better now.  And since one of my "resolutions" last January was to write more things in rhyme, I am going to cross that one off my list as "completed" or "not-failed at."

Keeping with the idea of going back and looking over the last year, as we are apt to do at the beginning of new ones of them - I am curious how many of my "resolutions" I successfully didn't fail.  

Shall we see? 

#1 - Eat chocolate whenever I REALLY want it.  

Check and check.  Who in their right mind wouldn't succeed at this resolution after all.  Though this year I have decided to change things up a bit.  This year, I resolve to drink coffee every single morning that I feel like drinking coffee.  I expect a similar success level as I go into 2017.  I am just that good. 

#2 - Purchase a pair of nice high heeled shoes and learn to walk in them.

Crap. 

It was a stupid resolution anyway.  

#3 - Use my twitter and Instagram accounts,  

Well, I use my Instagram.  Twitter, not so much.  It just seems rather redundant.  But, this year it is my goal to establish my online presence so that potential agents and/or publishers can find information on me if they happen to be looking.  So I suppose that will be a continued resolution for this next year,  

#4 - brew a successful batch of Kombucha Tea.  

I did that!  Lots in fact.  I should pull out my scobys again.  They are all sleeping in the fridge at the moment.  I stopped last year as soon as the weather warmed up because I didn't have to time to keep up with it, and a few of my batches got VERY strong! Since I was going for tea, and not liqueur - I put them all away.  But I got very good at it if I do say so myself.  Quite enjoyable! 

#5 - Give away more essential oils

Oh I always do that.  And like last year, I always have them.  So if anyone ever wants info and/or samples to try then please just let me know!  I truly enjoy researching this stuff.  And with new FDA regulations on what words can and cannot be said, it is getting harder to find correct info online.  Most of us that are working to bide by the regulations have taken down our blogs and resource pages, and so what is left is fear mongering and those that are not informed and/or following correct language protocol.  So be very careful researching Essential Oils online! There is still good info out there, but it is getting harder to find.  

#6 - Learn to make good homemade soap.  

So yeah, that hasn't happened yet.  It is still on my list to be sure.  But I will admit that after researching it, the dangers involved (i.e. LYE) have made me wary.  Perhaps when all three children are in school full time I'll have the time to explore the process.  But as long as there is a chance of a small one running up and hugging my legs while I am dealing with potentially explosive material...yeah not so much! 

Last on my list for 2015 was simply writing.  I did not do that enough, but I have high hopes for this year.  Because come August I will have 3 kids in school!  That means that 5 days a week, I will have 5 hours every day to devote to writing!  I am excited beyond words.  Truly.  I cannot wait! 

HA!  I just submitted a 4 line poem that I wrote in under a minute to Cricket Media.  Therefore catapulting myself into my new "resolution" which is to submit at least one item for either publication or representation once a month.  Now, it wont usually be a tiny 4 line poem.  But I felt the need to start the year (and my first day of writing for 2016) right.  

I also checked on the statues of a longer, better poem that I submitted last August and it is still listed as "in-progess."  I hate the waiting game.  Guess I need to resolve to get better at waiting while I am at it...

Honestly, this year I don't feel very "resolute." So while I do have several goals, as I have mentioned - I feel like in many ways, this will be a year to give up some things.  Perhaps it has to do with getting older and re-defining what is and is not important in my life. I think I tend to hang onto ideas that have always been...for no other reason than that I have never considered doing it otherwise.  I want to break that.  

So - here is my list of things I am Giving Up in 2016:

1. Mommy-groups.

I...I think I've out-grown them.  Not that they are a bad thing, at all.  They fit a very real need in my life for many years.  But my kids are older now.  I am not home with a baby that cannot talk or exhausted by multiple toddlers and needing a moment to just exchange war stories with other moms. I get a full 8 hours a of sleep a night (assuming I go to bed in time).  It is time to bow out gracefully. I realized this as I attended a MOPS (Mothers of Pre-schoolers) meeting last fall.  I looked around and realized that this was no longer for me.  The stories, the encouragement - it is all for moms with babies and toddlers.  I don't have that anymore.  So while I am so very thankful I had it when I needed it...I am now giving up my spot at the table for those that need it more than I do.  No more MOPS, no more mommy and me classes, no more hosting group play-dates.  My kids don't need them anymore...and weirdly enough, neither do I. 

2. Doing ALL of the housework.

Yes, along with not having small kids anymore.  I am giving up some chores around this house.  This means, I will be giving up un-loading the dishwasher, putting away kids laundry, sweeping and wiping down bathrooms.  From this day, henceforth - my minions will take care of these things.  

Prepare yourself, there will be great wailing and gnashing of teeth...and I will ignore it to the best of my abilities while I sit, relax and drink a glass of whatever the hell I doth please! 

3. I am giving up trying to achieve total control over my health.  

I know, it sounds weird.  But I am coming to grips with the idea that I have a chronic illness that is not going to just go away if I make the right diet changes or take the right supplements.  For 4 years now I have actively battled Hashimotos. And I mean battled!  I have put in countless hours of research, I have experimented, I have "advocated for myself" a.k.a, bullied doctors into giving me the tests I need; I have been bullied by doctors that told me there was nothing that can be done, changed doctors until I have found ones that would work with me...you name it. 

I'm tired. And I am tired because I have a thyroid that is trying to kill me. And not in a small way. My antibodies are off the charts and nothing I have tried (and trust me, I have tried just about everything) has changed that. So I am taking a much needed break. I will continue to educate myself, I just bought a new research book yesterday...but I will stop feeling like a failure because no matter what I try, nothing truly changes - in fact, sometimes it gets worse and I have to raise my medication again, which feels like another failure.  But you know what?  I may never get the "old me" back. And I need to be ok with that. Because the new me is VERY important.  And constantly denying that by trying to get back to where I was, just makes the new me feel like a failure.  And that is not ok. So I am giving up my old ideas of what is "healthy" and creating some new, more attainable ones. 

Oh goodness my time is up.  I don't feel like this list is complete.  Perhaps I'll write more later...perhaps not.  But for now - Happy new year! 

May your 2016 be all you hope it will be.  And just as a general warning to you all...I will only say this once: 

"Sara who never cried.”

“Perhaps I have not really a good temper at all, but if you have everything you want and everyone is kind to you, how can you help but be good-tempered? Perhaps I'm a HIDEOUS child, and no one will ever know, just because I never have any trials. (Sara Crewe, A Little Princess)” 

― Frances Hodgson Burnett

We require different things at different times in our lives. Funny, how such a simple concept can be so mind blowing. When I first started writing 2 years ago, I craved the bustle of a well lit coffee shop. I loved the people, the smells, the sounds. In that environment I thrived.  In that environment, I was creative. 3 weeks ago, when I started writing again, I went back to the same coffee shop enviroment. I wanted the same smells, the same lighting, the same sounds and even the same tasting coffee. I found I could barely work. Even the writing I was able to do, I later discovered it to be riddled with extra words, typos and at times, complete nonsense.

So I went home. The silence when I first walked into my empty house was so lovely I got tears in my eyes.  I have changed in the last couple of years, I no longer needed the bustle, What I needed to be creative, was the silence.

The last two years have taken their toll on me.  Most days I am old, so very old. I fear my posts are more stoic than they used to be. The humor no longer bubbles out effortlessly, I second guess myself far more than I used to. I am more awkward, angrier, far more confused, not nearly so confidant and most days more than a little depressed. But there is purpose in it all, there is beauty, I KNOW there is. My job as a writer, is to find it, against the odds - without dismissing the pain.  Because pain has purpose. Pain has it's own kind of deep beauty, a deeply creative beauty that is not to be dismissed because it is not as entertaining.  But this frustrates me, because feelings are not tangible, they are un-reliable, they change, they can be caused by hormones and environment.  They do not speak truth. What I can touch, what I can see, what I can explain.  That is what I cling to, that is what I base my perception of reality on, otherwise I may go completely insane!

Of course, then the question must be asked...what is insanity? Insanity cannot be measured by any scale I have ever seen, so how do we know when we get there?  How do we know if we have avoided it? How do we know we want to avoid it...

I used to be a better parent than I am now, though I feel it falls somewhere in the category of how everyone is an excellent parent...until they have kids.  I just took it a step further.

I am stubborn to a fault.  That means I am a very good parent to toddlers/pre-schoolers.  Ages 1-5?  I got this. Want me to teach your three-nager to behave?  Bring it on. I never met a toddler I could not handle, and I have met lots and lots of toddlers. Trust me. Yours is not special...well, they are special. But not in that way.

Toddlers I get. Toddlers, even preschoolers and into early elementary I can handle - not always gracefully, but when it comes down to it, after 9 years of trial and error, I know what I am doing.

And then without warning and without my permission, my responsibility has suddenly gotten wider: Tween-dom. Pre-teen hormones, emotional breakdowns and elementary school drama. Tween-dom has scary things I am not emotionally prepared to deal with!

I have absolutely no idea what I am doing.

I have one major character flaw, (ok, maybe I have a few more than that...but one that stands out in this particular situation)  I am not naturally empathetic. So that makes navigating the world of pre-teen emotions feel close to impossible.

Do I smile wisely and tell her "everything will be ok."  Do I offer advice? Do I intervene? Do I give her space? Do I make a cup of tea and sit us both down to go over every detail and talk about what it all could mean? Do I tell her that "this too shall pass" and dismiss it all? Do I tell her to "toughen up!" and show her picture of children in Africa that have no clothes and no smart phones?

Perhaps the best strategy would simply be to throw chocolate at her and run away...because I can do that!

I am genuinely asking for advice here. I feel so entirely clueless as to how to parent a pre-teen girl. I don't remember being 9.  What happened when I was 9? My baby brother was born...no, I was 8 1/2 when he was born.  What happened when I was 9? No clue. No memories....that is either a really good sign, or a really bad one.

How on earth do I handle a highly emotional, extremely creative, high-strung, very inventive, beautifully imaginative but insanely disorganized, intuitive, artistic 9 1/2 year old girl? Anyone? Because I am at a loss, and prayer and chocolate are coming up short.

We had a very challenging afternoon yesterday, we have had a lot of those lately. The task was simple, clean the front yard of all the bits and pieces of items you have brought out there with you, only to abandon instead of taking them back inside where they belong.

Simple yes? She had a break after school to  rest, she had a snack - she got to work.

First, there were tears because she thought I had asked her to only clean the grass, not the pavement...or brick wall...or bench...or dirt. The world fell apart when she learned that "cleaning the front yard" requires more than just clearing the grass. And when her world falls apart, everything falls apart...she gets a headache, she feels like she is going to throw up and she is sure she has a fever. Her friends have not been playing with her, so she is crying because of that...not because of the work. She suddenly remembers that she forgot some homework and her teacher is going to be mad. She remembers her pet mouse that passed away, and that starts everything all over again and she really wants to go hold her hamster so she can feel better and then she stubs her toes trying to get up off of the ground and everything is really really hard today!

When my tween falls apart the result is she CAN'T do it. She is sad, she is lonely, she is not strong enough, she is hurt, She becomes awkward, angry, confused, not nearly so confidant and more than a little depressed...and I start to get this nagging feeling like I have seen this before.

For my emotional tween, her world fell apart when the surface area she was responsible for suddenly grew wider without her permission. She felt she could handle the grass, she knew what she was doing. And then without warning, she also had to deal with the dirt. The dirt has spiders, and cat pee. The dirt has scary things she was not emotionally prepared to deal with.

I have one major character flaw.  I am not naturally an empathetic person. Because you see, feelings are not tangible, they are un-reliable, they change, they can be caused by hormones and environment. They do not speak truth. What I can touch, what I can see, what I can explain...That is what I trust.

“She looked into the staring glass eyes and complacent face, and suddenly a sort of heartbroken rage seized her. She lifted her little savage hand and knocked Emily off the chair, bursting into a passion of sobbing- Sara who never cried.” 

― Frances Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess

But this isn't working...I have no idea how to deal with this.  And I have this sinking feeling that it is only going to get scarier, dirtier.

First I listened, I tried my very best to understand. I took a deep breath and told her:

"I KNOW you can do it. I will not do it for you. Use the tools you have around you to get the job done. Think logically, don't let Scared be boss - use the feelings as motivation to get it done quickly, channel them. Breath...and do the task in front of you. Because if you do not, the benefits you receive for being responsible will be taken away. But in the end, it is your choice. What is more important? Your fear and anger, or your freedoms."

It took an hour. One measly hour, in the grand scheme of things, that is a very short time.  It took one hour of talking, crying, being angry, sad, scared, confused. It took her an hour. But she did it! She did it all by herself!  And the joy, oh the joy on that little girls face when she beat her fear?  When she got dirty, when she used her fear and her anger not as a roadblock, but as motivation to complete the task in front of her was contagious and lasting.  The rest of her day was rimmed with gold, she was giddy, she was empowered.

I fear I am not so entertaining an author as I used to be. The humor no longer bubbles out effortlessly, I second guess myself far more than I used to. This becomes a problem as I write to seek representation and ultimately, publication.  But you know what?  This is a season, and this season has purpose. One lovely thing about living with consistently hard days?  The beautiful moments are brighter, you don't take them for granted. Perhaps that is the beauty I am supposed to find.

In the end, even when there is no motivation, when it all feels too big. When I am not sure I can do this, when all I can see is the anger because I am tired, because I hurt, because I feel so very old.  I have a choice. I KNOW I can do this. No one is going to do it for me. I must find tools to get the job done. I must think logically and not let Scared be boss.

Me, just me - I alone get to choose what is more important. I have to remember to breath...and do the task in front of me. Today, right now, I get to choose,  My fear and anger? Or the freedom to follow my dreams. I can channel all of those scary thoughts into motivation and watch my world change to gold before my very eyes,  

“You see, now that trials have come, they have shown that I am NOT a nice child. I was afraid they would. Perhaps... that is what they were sent for... I suppose there MIGHT be good in things, even if we don't see it.” 

― Frances Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess