Worst Fears

Today’s Writing 101 Prompt: We all have anxieties, worries, and fears. What are you scared of? Address one of your worst fears.

Today’s Twist: Write this post in a style distinct from your own.

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I don’t talk about my worst fears. My worst fears is writing about my worst fears. Why aren’t we writing about our dreams instead of our worst fears? God forbid we forget about our worst fears. Holy Moly, I can’t wait to read all those articles of people writing about their worst fears. Do people actually spend time thinking about and dwelling on their worst fears? Hopefully, I have run those two words into the ground. If not, here they are again, isn’t this your worst fear?


I also hope I wrote in a style distinct from my own.

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Lost and Found Part 3

Today’s Writing 101 Prompt: Imagine you had a job in which you had to sift through forgotten or lost.

For inspiration, ponder the phrase “lost and found.” If you’d like to continue our serial challenge, also reflect on the theme of lost and found more generally in this post.

In your “lost and found” tale, tell us something larger — a life lesson, perhaps — about finding and losing .

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For the previous two installments of this story click on Part 1 and Part 2.

My illness wasn’t solved by one hospitalization. It took several more hospitalizations and then, to finally find the right medication.

Making it more difficult for me to heal from my mental illness was the fact that I did not have the support of my family. Some of them believed I was faking it, all of them were ashamed of me, and a few thought my depression was merely me feeling sorry for myself. That was a lot of baggage to place on me when I was already severely unstable. This type of treatment by family was one of the worst things they could do to me because it practically guaranteed I would not be able to heal or if I were to heal it would take much much longer.

All of my hospitalizations seem to “melt together.” I remember two women introducing themselves to me,

“I am Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow.”

“I am Merry Merry quite contrary, how does your garden grow?”

I remember the young man that had fried his mind using the drug, LSD, who now could only sit in a corner all day and play with himself. I remember the young woman that stayed in her room all day and made herself “feel better.” I remember the young lady who couldn’t talk anymore. I remember the friends I made while being hospitalized.

I also remember the “camping trip therapy” that I attended with my two besties from the hospital.

They took us somewhere in Utah and gave each of us a gallon of water, a tarp, and a sleeping bag. That was it. We were to go off by ourselves and set up a camp and sleep there all night (alone). I set up my camp in close proximity of a very old Anasazi Indian ruins, so the Indian Spirits would keep me safe all night. (The Anasazis are an ancient Indian tribe that have gone extinct. They built their homes on the sides of very high cliffs). I also made sure I could see the two camps of my two friends. I remember being afraid that bugs would get into my sleeping bag and wasn’t able to sleep because of that fear.

The next morning we all stumbled back to the main camp for that “much desired” cup of coffee. I remember how good it felt to make it all night sleeping alone in the wilderness. And, I remember how how hungry I was after not eating for 24 hours.

The purpose of this camping trip was for us to get in touch with our spiritual side.

I remember on our way back to the hospital and all of us campers being very tired because none of us were able to sleep. We stopped at a cafe on the way to take a break. There was a shiny black car parked in front of this cafe. We could see ourselves in the shiny black paint and our bodies appeared grotesquely distorted. We all laughed until we cried at our distorted images in this car.

Finally, my biggest breakthrough from my mental illness came during my last hospitalization and my psychiatrist put me on anti-depressant medication. Once we found the right dosage, I could finally see an end to my suffering. Although I couldn’t understand why my previous doctors had not put me on this medication, I was elated to find a medicine that could actually help. Sure enough, it was a chemical imbalance and we had found the right medicine to solve that imbalance.

After years of suffering through this painful mental illness, I finally reached the light at the end of “my” dark tunnel. Finally!






 

Assignment #15 – Voice

Today’s Prompt: Think about an event you’ve attended and loved. Your hometown’s annual fair. That life-changing music festival. A conference that shifted your worldview. Imagine you’re told it will be cancelled forever or taken over by an evil corporate force.

How does that make you feel?

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For some reason, this assignment has given me absolutely no inspiration. I have racked my brain trying to think up something to write about that might show me my voice. I am curious, I want to know what my voice “sounds” like. I also want to know what it “sounds” like to those who read my stories and posts?

Do I come across harsh, negative, and abrasive?

Do I come across wishy-washy and fake?

Do I come across as a know-it-all?

Since I cannot think up something to write about that will reveal my “voice” to me, please tell me what my “voice” sounds like to you?

 

The Conversation from Hell

Assignment #12 Writing 101


Today’s Prompt for Writing 101: Write a post inspired by a real-world conversation.

Today’s twist: include an element of foreshadowing in the beginning of your post.

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The good news is, she lives 6 hours away from me right now. The bad news is, she is moving back to my area in three weeks. I am referring to my sister. She is like a walking, living, breathing human tornado that destroys, or tries to destroy everything and everyone in her path. (I wish I were joking).

I answered the telephone this morning and the voice on the other line automatically put me on high “red-alert.”

My sister, Chauna is on the other line and she immediately informs me, “These people here are trying to declare me incompetent and take all my money away from me. They are all trying to steal from me.” (These people = her daughter, son-in-law, brother, mother).

Because I don’t believe one word of it, I say, “No, I don’t believe that. They have no reason to steal from you. Why do they need to steal from you Chauna? They have plenty of their own money.”

“Well,” she says, “I can’t explain it but they are and I’m getting the hell out of here.” (Big City). She starts whining, “They tried to steal my RV from me and now I can’t get it out of the consignment place until May 8.”

I remind her, “They put it in the consignment place because you told Rex to handle it for you because you wanted to sell it. He is just trying to sell it for you!”

Now she begins barking, “Well he didn’t ask me if he could put it in the consignment shop and now I can’t get it out until May 8. He should have asked me if he could do that. I would have told him I would only put it in the consignment shop if I could get it out anytime I wanted to.”

By this time I am getting very frustrated, “How was he suppose to know you wanted to be able to get it out anytime you want to. You don’t even have a truck to pull it with.”

Then she immediately states, “Well I might have wanted to get it out and he didn’t ask me if he could put it in there and I’m madder than hell at him.”

I ask her, “So this is all about control not really about the RV?”

“Well, maybe.” She stated, then adds, “I should have had control of that RV not Rex!”

(This horrible conversation continues for 15 more minutes then turns to something else).

After listening to her barking for 20 minutes I am really getting exasperated. She begins to tell me, “He (her daughter’s husband) has declared my daughter incompetent and has taken over all of her money.”

I am stunned, “What? Why would he do that? That doesn’t make sense!”

She further tells me, “She says that Rex will not allow her to see me anymore unless I hand over the control of all my money to him.”

I am shocked. “What?! (I highly doubt this is true). Why would he want to take control of your money? I just have a hard time believing that.”

“Well he did!” She states matter-of-factly, ” I can’t stand him. He’s a snake and I can’t stand him.”

I am really wanting this conversation to end, “So this all about the fact that you dislike Rex so much you are willing to give up your own daughter?”

“Yes, I am.” She informs me, ” I am not having him control me or take control of my money.”

I inform her, for the thousandth time, “Chauna, you have GOT to go to the doctor and get on some medicine.”

“No I don’t.” She barks, “I don’t need medicine! I need to get the hell out of here!”

“Yes, Chauna, you do.” I further remind her (once again), “You have a chemical imbalance and you need medicine to control it.”

She starts her barking again, “Everybody thinks the world’s problems can be solved with a f—ing pill!”


(OMG, Help ME! And she’s going to be here in 3 weeks)


* Names have been changed. I am not exaggerating this conversation. If anything, I have tamed it down and removed all but one of the curse words.








 

Writing 101 – A Room with a View

There is a very large window right next to my kitchen table, where I sit and work on my internet devices. I look out this window and right into one of my lovely lilac bushes. I can smell the opulent smell of those purple clusters, now in full bloom.

From this same window, I can watch my neighbors, although I rarely pay much attention. My attention is usually on my blogging, reading, writing or daydreaming.

My room, my kitchen, is surrounded in love and comfort. There are several shelves on the walls that hold many different spices from all over the world, and counter tops that hold small appliances, cannisters and larger jars of spices. My kitchen brings me comfort and is definitely my favorite room.

Sometimes I think that I would love for my window to be on a second floor or even a third floor to get a better view, but then I would not have my lilacs right there in front of my eyes to enjoy or to smell their rich and intoxicating fragrance.

Other times I think that I would love to have the view the birds have or even a view of sitting on a cloud while I am dangling my legs and feet.

For now however, my view is that of a beautiful lilac bush, loaded with magnificent purple lilacs, smelling their fragrance, as I sit next to my kitchen window interacting with my online friends.

I feel pretty contented.