Light Bulb Moment -maybe-

As you have read my last few posts show some struggles, ok, some crap I am pushing through. The first day after the abuse I took from the landlords and roommates, I spent the entire day in bed. I only got up to go the bathroom, that was it. I did not eat, not really slept, and the inside turned and I felt like that little girl waiting for her beating in the coal shed, and I had to get the strap myself. Nothing like delivering the weapon that is about to put you in serious pain. So sitting in my room still trying to find a way out of my once again impending homelessness and still scouring the internet for work I had a thought pop into my head.

“To thine own self be true”. Now I don’t want to get all religious on you, anyone who reads my writings knows my faith right now is as strong as a tight wire made of a single strand of human hair. My hair, so fine it would snap if a spider set upon it. There is NO WAY that will hold up to anything. But as I was sitting there day dreaming, as my mind wonders a lot. I thought “what the hell does that mean?” “why on earth did that pop into my head?” Then I realized my mind, subconscious or perhaps a higher power, who the hell knows, figured out what it means for me.

I have suffered crap since the day I was born, from my birth mother trying to kill me to abuse of any and all natures and then homelessness and now what happened a few days ago. There is one thing that made me get through it all. My father. Now that he is gone, my life seems to have taken even a stronger dive. What is the link. My father was able to change his ways and learn from his mistakes and became a really great man. One that I have not met since. But what I noticed about him is that he knew himself. He knew his weaknesses and he worked on them, but most of all he knew what he wanted to become. He knew the type of person he was, is, and always will be. He knew so well that I could lean on him and he helped carry me through stuff by just sitting in the seat beside me.

What do I know of myself? Who am I? What type of person am I? Am I a good mom, bad mom, or a fantastic mom? Am I charitable? A bully? Selfish? What am I really? If I am brutally honest with myself, no over thinking things, just stand outside myself and see myself for who and what I truly am and write it down. Don’t think about what I am writing down at this point, just think of any time I have been a bitch, bully, slut, and compare it to any time I have been charitable to others, been kind, helpful, caring, etc.

I realize that the world is not at all like it was when I was growing up. I remember people helping each other, strangers helping and friends were real true friends not superficial and what do they get out it. But I don’t want the modern selfish society to change what I know in my heart of hearts to be true, to be right, and to be admirable.

I realized that what if all those people in the world contemplating suicide, being abused, and depressed and struggling emotionally, mentally because they are from a different type of values that seems to no longer be in one with the non Christian world. Believe in religion or not, the fact that the world was ruled by the Christian values for many, many years. It has only been since Christianity is being attacked by non Christians and other beliefs that those core values of society have been altered, squashed and abandoned. Those still in the strong Christian moral value system are being under attack. So, even if you don’t believe in religion, do you still carry those core values? Are you kind at heart? Do you actually want to help others? Do you feel emotions so strongly you are empathic? Are you kind? Would you help a stranger just because they needed help? You don’t find humour in the modern idea of “reality TV” and the stupidity stunts and abuse of others? Do you care about the world and animals around you?

Why does this make any sense to me? If you know who you are, if you know without a doubt the person you are, and the person you are trying to become, that ultimate self that you are trying to be. So long as you are not trying to be someone else, but are trying to be who YOU are to be. Then it does not matter what the poo poo nay sayers are saying, who gives a shit what the judgy judgers are saying, and anything that is said about you, that is NOT WHO YOU KNOW YOURSELF TO BE, than you can disregard it. Toss it over the left shoulder into the abyss, and go on with your life. Doing what you know to be true, right, and worthy of you. Searching for like-minded people and leaving the rest in your dust. In the end, if, just if there is a judgement day, you can stand tall, head held high, and you will be successful over “those other people”. If there is not a judgment day and something else is among us after death, you can still stand tall and face whatever it is with those core values you know yourself to be. And you will make it through that too.

I believe we need to feel the pain, feel that hurt thrown on us. Think about it,and process it, but once we have felt it, processed the thought of it, we then can decide if it will continue, or be dismissed.

How do I learn about myself? Do I need to buy a fancy car or get a boob job or take a vacation to “discover” oneself? No. Nope, and No way. I feel we just need to sit down in a quiet place with a pen or pencil and paper or writing book. Then you start to ask yourself questions. Just like a writer asks their own characters who they are, to know them well, that is how you will know yourself well also.

I will post that in the next post how I am trying to work through this. Trying to reconnect with who I am and who I want to be? I don’t mean the house, cars etc, nothing of the world. I am talking deep in your soul, or perhaps you call it your chi, or maybe you call it your “self”. Either way, learn thy self is my new direction and focus.

Please share you thoughts on this, I would love to hear if anyone else has had an epiphany of how to overcome all of life’s challenges and is it working? have you needed to tweek it a little for situations? Does it keep you strong?

 

 

 

Stay Positive. Venting

I know I must stand tall, I know I must always show strength, never show fear. Be brave and speak true. Speak only when spoken to, not judge, think positive, keep an open mind and always be kind. This past few years I have done my best. But yesterday broke me.

WARNING:
Today I am venting, there is no angle, just letting it loose and saying it. There may be language that is offensive, or something. But if you are not interested in reading my vent, you might as well stop here. For those who read on, please realize that I am hurting right now. I am EXTREMELY hurt, alone, scared and angry. If you like to comment please do, I can use some encouragement. But if you want to add to my misery, don’t comment, I am literally at the end of my point of … well, I’m at my end.

I have lived through rape, beatings, molestation, survived abusive relationships, raised a child alone, and never did I feel like I had any support. My father was my only support, now he has been dead for many years. I did it all alone. Really, I’m not kidding. My family did not help, more so they criticized, ignored, and abused me. So when I got old enough I gave them a choice. Here it was.

1) I want a positive relationship. Start to be positive, supportive, and stop abusing me, stop criticizing me and stop being assholes.
Now I am not completely stupid, I know family goes through hard times, but what I want is for them to stop being selfish, to stop putting me down, to stop everything negative. I know family will have arguments, my family… I am a chew toy for them.

2) Be an active roll. No more neglect, no more “pretending” to be the perfect family in public and behind closed doors its a nightmare. No more neglecting me and only saying hi at weddings or funerals. I want an active role. Every month take 10 minutes out of the 720 hours in a month and write me a hello note with something positive, something they want to share with me so we can know each other better. To respond to my stuff, to be a real family. Seriously, 10 minutes to send an email, or a phone call or something and be positive. Try to be a friend.

If they can not do those two things, I want them to know they are off the hook. They don’t need to be in my life at all. Be kind, or go away.

Pretty harsh some may think, but by putting yourself in my shoes, all that abuse I listed, and more not listed, most was from family! Right now I am all but homeless. And still family doesn’t help. I have 6 siblings, and not one of them have offered to help. NOT ONE.

I was adopted, and that seems to have made a problem with some of them. I am not their sibling they feel. Yup, said it they did. So, how is that supposed to make a person feel. They grew up in a family and even though it was a not so good relationship, you find out you are not wanted? Not welcomed? Not a part of something you thought you were? I have read a lot of other adopted posts and notice a pattern. They too get siblings claiming they are not. These siblings are grown adults acting like selfish children. Bad enough to be born and not wanted, but raised in a place you are not wanted, and they let you know it.

Here is a good one, when I did something as a child that may have been bad or maybe it was not bad but needed some addressing, sometimes I would not get beat. Sometimes my dad would talk with me and explain what I did and work through with me. Sometimes. My siblings did not like this. they said, that they got hit, and so will I, so they would beat me. Like wow! My father was trying to change his ways, to learn, to be a better person, and my siblings wanted, desired and craved for me to suffer what they thought I should suffer. Just because they wanted it.

So, back to what I was saying, yesterday about broke me. This past 7 years my daughter and I have had an extremely hard time. Now we have been sleeping in our car. I managed to find a room for us to sleep in, but that is about to be gone. Last month I asked the landlord to verify the rent amount, she flipped out. You see she is renting this place without a contract, so there is nothing written down. So she said that she can’t have a renter who is going to question her. And she texted me to leave in 30 days.

Now in Alberta this is not legal of her to do. So I served my refusal letter and there was nothing more said about it. Yesterday she served me a letter to leave in 60 days because her sister is moving into my room. When I talked to her, I told her that that is not legal again. You must give 90 days notice and the family moving in you must evict the entire home. Plus she already has one bedroom dedicated to her sisters. Plus, there are three bedrooms that are empty, not rented. I told her I would talk to the landlord and tenant act and get back to her.

Then she arranged to have the other tenants in the house to start treating me badly. If they don’t they are gone. So yesterday I had 4 people and the landlords attack me, insult me, mock me, and on top of that speak with racist criticisms. They are all Filipino except one and one highly manipulative Russian who just paced in the other room happily. One of the tenants refused to join in, she sat in the other room and refused to be a part of it. She later told me that they are wrong and she wants to support me. But with 6 people attacking me and my daughter, it was just too much.

I lost my family that I tried to get to be a family, no church, lost my father who was my only support, lost our home, our cat died, lost my job. My church actually told me that they would let me sleep in their parking lot, that was their support. And now in the winter, I am dealing with this. My daughter is numb now, she feels nothing she said. My daughter closed out the world because of all the hurt. I injured my spine and am in constant pain and because I can stand, the disability funds are refused, so we have no money, just what is last left from being laid off. There is nothing in me left to fight.

Holy fuck! What am I supposed to do? I have looked every single day for work, I try to just let it all run off my shoulders but right now, a fucking pistol is looking fucking better than standing out in that freezing snow. I can’t sleep, I have electric pain piercing my body all the time, I can’t eat, I try to eat something and there is no taste. So why bother eating it.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRTRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGG FFFUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK.

What am I supposed to do? I just wanted to get it off my chest. Just, yell it out that I don’t know what to do anymore.

I’m tired, really tired. It takes all I have to get out of bed, sometimes I if I managed to get a couple winks, it feels like it is all dream, none of this is really happening. I mean if you went into more detail you could make a movie on it, because it all doesn’t seem like it would really happen, but oh no, it IS happening to us.

 

 

PLEASE HELP OUT, PLEASE.

Please click link to view story and an opportunity to help.  Please Help Us Out

In case that link doesn’t work please try this one. https://www.gofundme.com/Homelesstoabetterlifechance

A few years ago I was injured at work. Unable to get financial help while I dealt with my spinal injury I flew through whatever saving we had. I fell into a horrible depression because I was in a wheelchair and my daughter had to wash me, help me put on my clothes and care for me.

During this time,the church members did no visiting,  the friends and family I had did nothing to help. No one brought over a dinner, no one came to visit and let us know they are a support. Accept for one brother. He popped by to say hi, and my sister in-law drove me twice. So that I am grateful for. Even though it was not much, I am glad that they did.  What we needed was a support network to jump in and help out.

I was able to walk again with the help of my amazing daughter and an occupational therapist. Wonderful to have these two by my side.

I was able to find work but is was seasonal, and I was laid off three years in a row.  The last one is what did us in. We gave away everything we owned, even gave away the piano I inherited from my father who passed a few years prior. It has been really hard. I am trying like mad to find work, but because of my injury no one wants to hire me.

I have not much money left, and we are about to be tossed back into the car. The place we live in right now is not great, it is a single small bedroom we share.

Please view the link, see the pictures, and please pass this call for help on to others. If enough people can give a little bit, it will add up to enough to give us the help we need to lift us out of this situation. The economic down turn has now hit Canada, I know people all over are struggling. But please, go read my story on Go Fund Me. Please pass that link to others, businesses, and anyone you know that may be able to help.

Thank you for anything you can do. https://www.gofundme.com/Homelesstoabetterlifechance

Tina

 

 

 

 

 

Why Write?

 

I saw a post in the LinkedIn group “Before the Ink Dries” by Don Gewywolf ford .This made me curious why writers write.

I’m a curious individual, so much so that I’ve been called a cat. I’m wondering why other writers write? Being new to this industry I have only met a couple of writers. What made you pick up that pencil, pen, or keyboard? What makes you tick, as a writer? What keeps you going?

I mean, it’s a cruel business to be in. Rejection is a guarantee. How many people would go to work everyday for a boss that tells them “We don’t like your work” or “You just don’t have what it takes to advance”? Everyone I know wouldn’t want to, they would find a different job, one that appreciates them.

Self-doubt, fear, that little voice inside always undermining every word you think or write. That thought “I’m not smart enough” and “No one reads my stuff anyway?” or “Is this post worthy?” The self-doubt is heavy, then add the naysayers telling you the same things you are thinking.

The fact that publishers will not even look at you if you are not published, yet you can’t get published unless someone publishes you. Yikes, that’s maddening. The pay is peanuts. Actually, it’s peanut dust. Some don’t pay you at all. You spend hours pouring out your soul, sharing pieces of yourself in your prose, then sell it for $25. Let’s dump some vinegar on that paper cut, that prose is kidnaped for months before you even see that money, since you don’t get paid until it’s printed. Worse, “they” change their minds and not print it, now there’s no money after waiting so long. When or if, you get a book published, you are the one who does all the work. You use your own money, (from that temporary job you do) you put in all your spare time to promote and sell your book. Then, how well you market your own book, and continue to market your book over the years; you may make some money. How’s your marketing skills and networking contacts?

So far, I have not painted the life of a writer in very good light. Painting it in the black of night I think is more accurate. When you consider all that is a “writer” it may not sound like a great career choice. The number of people who make a wealthy living on just writing is a small percentage. Is this maddening, crazy making career choice worth it? Are we just floating down that inevitable shit stream, with a ginormous hole in the bottom of a wobbly old wooden raft without a paddle? The answer I wish I could say is an absolute yes it’s worth it, but I can’t. The answer is very personal.

How much rejection can you take? How much do you want to invest of your time, finances, and emotionally? Why are you doing it in the first place? Have you forgotten why you are writing in the first place? Maybe you are unsure at this point.

I know for me I have those lows, but I write about it. Sometimes my most haunting stories come from those lows. Sometimes its just dripple on tear-stained paper. I say, write about it and keep writing. I do wish that it was a more welcoming industry choice. I wish all writers the courage to continue, only if it is what makes them happy.

So why do I do this? Originally, I wrote to escape reality; my imagination was a better place than what I lived. Over time I learned that through my stories they helped people. I love to influence people either a smile, anger, laughter or maybe even a tear. For whatever emotion sparked, I love influencing it. I want to live my dreams. Now that I am older, I must act on those dreams before I lose time, no more regrets. Perhaps this is selfish, but so be it. I’m too old to give a damn what you think of me type of thing. I write because I will not be told I can’t. I write because I want to be the best writer in the world. This will take some time, maybe 2 weeks. (I joke about the 2 weeks) I write because I want to, and I can. As I learn and grow, I want to write even more. Every rejection letter makes me want it even harder. Therefore, I write.

We can not blame the publishers for this writing game. Publishers are not bad people. It may feel like it as you have all this happening to you. But they are not these creatures with horns and a long pointy tail, smoking cigars in an expensively designed office, laughing at your work. They’re not gathering other creatures with horns and pointy tails to come laugh at your work. They are not laughing as they write that horrible rejection letter.

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“We thank you for your effort, but really you suck, though we had a great laugh at your writing. Better luck next time.” -Fictitious rejection letter #1001

 

 

 

Publishers have thousands of papers fall on their desk. (I’m not talking about the creatures with horns and pointy tails, I’m now talking about actual human beings.) When the work day is done, they take a pile of those papers home and read while in bed, in front of the TV, or maybe while taking a bath. That’s my image of someone who is a publisher. Just a hard-working individual who obviously loves to read, a lot. They’re on the hunt for the next big league writer. Publishers, I believe genuinely want to find someone to publish. So, I am sorry, we can’t hate on the publishers.

So, what makes you write? Such a personal question I’m sure. For some it’s personal and private, others it’s a hobby. Some for delusions of grandeur. I really want to know.

Each time a writer creates, they’re sharing a piece of themselves. They exposed themselves to you the reader. You are given the opportunity to peek into the mind and spirit of that writer. Why do you expose yourself writing?

 

 

Well, it has been a fun ride to this point. I love this class and have learned so much. I hope I am progressing in my drawing.

We are to draw according to a description. In this description is a barn, a tractor in water or mud, a rainy, lightning, stormy night. So that is what I attempted today. I started with the thumb print and then my pic.