Overwhelming Life

A year ago today I sat in a hospital waiting area. Wishing beyond everything this was not happening. I prayed, lost as I was. It was such a daunting diagnosis my mom received. Not just breast cancer but renal cancer as well.


I could step away, take a breath, she could not. Mom fought on. It has been an overwhelming year. I’ve never thought of myself as a caregiver but in my quiet moments alone with introspection, I most certainly am and though I am not perfect. I love perfectly in my care giving.
Mom’s oncologist gave her a “cancer free” label last week. Life is most certainly a journey. These are my words as I sat, waiting, a year ago.

“Earrings from my Seestor, ring from Aunt Dorothy, necklace from Michelle in honor of Grams, yeah I’ve got the women I love surrounding me.”


Congratulations mom! Here’s to many more anniversaries!

What To Write?

frustratedwriter-250x167Writing is not for the faint of heart. These little letters, mixed together to form words, strung along to form a sentence, then squashed into groups to be titled “paragraphs”, do not always come easy. Let us not even delve into the writing of a book yet, with the myriad of chapters, forewords, acknowledgments, and so on. The words jumble together. The ideas fizzle as life whirls by. The confidence as you scrawled the first words fades. The computer screen glares back at you expectantly. And you sit….waiting….editing….writing….deleting.

Minds are a fickle expanse.

Desire to write grows in your heart. That tell-tale tickle that begins for each author at different times in each of our lives. It is just a thought, at first. Maybe a journal that becomes more of a story to an outsider looking in. Maybe a character on the street that inspires a character in book. It begins and no writer can predict where it might end.

Ability to write comes from your mind. So the tickle in your heart has become “hell-itch” (like the kind you get after a nasty sunburn). You can’t ignore it any longer, so you start. Your mind settles into, what you think is organization, and your fingers begin to put together all the words floating around in that grey goo between your ears. It is like learning to walk. You stumble through the first few lines, you fall in love with your delete button~no one really talks like that. Then they just start rolling. Words coming out of thin air. Smoothly gliding from your mind to the tips of your fingers.

It is magic.

Focus to publish your writing comes from your soul. So now after years and tomes of stories/articles/poems/thoughts/books/scrawlings, it is time. It is time to dig into the most scared of areas in your being and publish. Your words are your soul. Your desire to write has been overtaken by your desire to share. Those still moments when the kids were sleeping, the tears late at night when the only escape were the words, the chaos in your hospital rooms after surgeries, now it is time to share. The focus required to publish consistently becomes a part of your waking moments. No one in your life is exempt from your writing. Teenagers are editors. Best friends are sounding boards for ideas. Family members are marketing gurus. When did this happen? How did this happen?

So you cultivated your heart, mind, and soul. You nurtured the relationship to expose the raw parts of yourself. What happens if you stop?

Writing_Is_What_I_Do_Best_by_Dark_lil_Angel