A Very Simple Life

I’m a very simple person.  I am low-maintenance, and probably have the mind of a child at times.  I’m easily amused as well. I laugh easily.  I love deeply, and feel others pain deeply as well.  I hate watching people argue on talk shows; makes my heart race as though they were yelling at me personally.  Not normal.  Or is it for someone like me; introverted and an Aspie.

I collect serious things, like angel figurines; and silly things like Minions.  I have Minions coffee mugs, stuffed ones, Christmas ornaments, plastic pencil cases, t-shirts, and even a pair of pajamas with the cute little guys gracing them all over.

I enjoy reading, but don’t get to as often as I’d like anymore.  My eyes are getting worse as I age.  Thank God for dollar reading glasses at Dollar Tree.  I wish I could carry a tune but I couldn’t sing to save my life; seriously.  My husband tells me not to sing whenever I attempt to.  I love Christmas carols and I don’t care if it sounds like a pack of wild dogs howling in the night, I love music.  I especially am fond of Country Music as I grow older.  Chris Young is one of my favorites.  Maybe someday I will get the chance to see him in concert.

I’m a Christian, but unfortunately  not as good as I’d like to be.  I have many faults.  One big one is I have a deep-seated fear of things going wrong in my life.  I believe that God watches over me and keeps me safe, but I still worry way too much.  I hate failure.  Then again, I think most people do as well.  I want to be a published writer, and I don’t even care if I can’t make a living out of it.  I am happiest when writing.  I lose track of time as words fly across the screen.  And being content and happy with your lot in life is serious business.

Life is too short to worry over the small things.  I try to live a simple life.  I shop at thrift stores, which I have no problem with because I love the items that I find there.  I am content to sit in my rocking chair here in my writing room while reading a good books while sipping a cup or two of Dunkin Donuts French Vanilla coffee; home-brewed of course.

I am content to watch the sunrise on a summer day, or sit at the beach watching everyone enjoying themselves.  I can even enjoy sifting dirt through my fingers while working in my garden, relishing the feel of the warm soil.  I am a simple person because I can sit back and love others even if we do not agree on issues.  Again, life is too short to fight because one person thinks differently than someone else.  Love, in my book, always wins out.

I’m a simple person because as I look around at my writing room and see the things that make me happiest; my books, Minions collection, and I forgot about my snowmen collection(stuffed and figurines), my scented candles, my houseplants; all these things bring joy into my heart.  And I wouldn’t want to change anything.  I am happiest when I can sit back and take in life in small bite-sized pieces.  I don’t want to swallow my experiences whole, but savor them.  I’m a simple person, and I don’t care anymore who knows it.

Until next time.

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Living Life Underneath An Umbrella

I’m going to be brutally honest in this post; some might say crazy; but there are days, like today, that I think about dying.  There are bad days when I wonder whether I am worth anything; if I’m just a waste of space.  But I know that’s a lie.  I know that being an introvert and an Aspie can mess with my mind.  There are days I over think things.  And that’s when I feel like I’m losing my mind; when I want to punch walls, scream, and curl up into myself.

Today was a day that I (a) wasn’t feeling well, (b) was frustrated with things happening in my life, and (c) questioning my existence.  The good part, the sane part, is that I understand that it is just a phase I go through occasionally.  I would never kill myself though I do think about it from time to time.  Maybe I just enjoy a little self-pity.  Maybe there are times that my mind plays tricks on me.  I ask myself:  Am I more afraid of living or I am I more afraid of dying?

Since my brain doesn’t function like ‘normal’ people(those not on the Autism Spectrum), I worry if my family actually loves me; if they’d be better off without me.  And again, it’s a lie that’s trying to screw with my head.  I know that they do love me yet there are times, like today, that I do not feel loved; by my husband, my children, my parents, my siblings, etc.  I feel like I’m living underneath an umbrella; the trials of life, like rain, pummel me and I am curled up, fetal-position, underneath a blanket, waiting for the nasty weather to pass.

And pass it does.  The trials disappear, or I learn to manage them, or I decide they aren’t worth my time and energy worrying about them.  That’s how life goes for me.  I get into these little snits and I want to end it all.  I think about how I’d do it.  What would be the least messy way to do away with myself?  Then I think:  how would the person who found me feel?  That is something a person doesn’t forget, etched into your memory forever.

Sometimes I don’t even want to leave the house.  I have a desire to be involved in society, yet I don’t want to deal with people most times.   The Aspie says, ‘I don’t know how to associate with others.  And the introvert in me says, ‘I don’t want to be around people.’  Yet the real me says:  ‘I want to enjoy life.  I want to have friends.  I don’t want to let life pass me by without accomplishing the things I most want to do.’  I’ve made up a bucket list of things I want to try.  Publishing a novel, rock climbing, zip-lining, learning foreign languages, belly-dancing. What stands in my way of reaching those goals? Fear.  Fear holds me back.  Fear of failure.  Fear of looking like an idiot.  Fear of not understanding the instructions on how to do things.

And I have a terrible habit of over-thinking things, and that’s when I screw up.  I try very hard to learn things but somehow there’s a disconnect in my brain.  I am the type of learner that needs to do the thing I’m trying to learn rather than have the person teaching me explaining it with words.  I am a hands-on learner.

So there you have it; my secret pain.  It’s not something I enjoy sharing, but I want to be honest that I suffer with these bouts of depression to the point of contemplating suicide.  I am thankful that the feelings are short-lived and pass by quickly.  I believe in being positive and doing my best to make others happy.  I believe every life is precious.  I believe that the voices in our head are liars.  We are worth something.  We are precious to our families, spouses, and children.  As a Christian, I believe we are important to God as well. Our lives are important.  I heard it said once that ‘suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.’  It’s a sad fact that people who take their own lives believe that the horrible, messed-up part of their life that they are currently in will never end; will haunt them for the rest of their lives; and that’s not true.  I’d say talk to someone; get help.  You don’t need to suffer alone if you are contemplating taking your own life.  I refuse to believe the lies swirling around inside my head and so must you, my friends.  Until next time.

 

 

My Oh My Writers’ Group Experience

Okay, so I did it.  I finally attended my first ever writers’ group.  It was held at my local Barnes and Noble, and we met in the cafe area.  I brought along my daughter-in-law Kayla for moral support(I’m an introvert, so it’s difficult to go to things like this alone).  I was this close to chickening out and saying I don’t feel like going but I wrote about attending in the last blog, to hold myself accountable.  So off I went.

When we arrived, there weren’t too many people there yet.  I looked around anxiously to see who might be involved with the group.  I saw a couple of men sitting alone at tables with an open laptop so I asked one if this was where the writers’ group met and he said yes.  I was relieved I had asked the person who was actually part of the group.  We introduced ourselves and Kayla and I sat waiting for the others.

After some time passing, the rest of the group slowly filtered in and sat at a back table as others pulled a few smaller tables and chairs over to accommodate overflow.  I had seen on the group’s online site that 16 people had signed up to be there that night and I was impressed that we could squeeze so many people in a corner, and impressed with the loyalty of group members to attend.  I wasn’t the only new person, there was one other who had traveled a distance to get there.

As we sat, no one knew who we were, Kayla and I, until they asked if we were with the group and I informed them that, yes, we were new.  They warmly welcomed us over and we sat, a bit cramped, but they were very friendly.  At one point, after noticing the age range of the members, Kayla leaned over and whispered to me, “They’re all old.  Why do you keep taking me to old people stuff?”  She’s 18 and I’m sure anyone over 30 would be old to her.  I’m ancient because I’m on the cusp on 53.  Side story, when my son, Josh, and Kayla were dating, we were at a Chinese buffet restaurant and we had decided that her and I should hang out together.  And the lovely Kayla agreed and said, “Yeah, I love hanging out with old people.”  Ouch.

Anyway, I did not submit a chapter to the group’s site for critique because I wanted to see how everything worked first.  They went around and introduced themselves and then they starting discussing each other’s work.  I noticed that I did not share the same writing that they did.  I am a more modern-day literary or romance writer and have a plethora of short fiction and not novels in the works, though I do have a couple of NaNoWriMo works.  Most wrote historical, or fantasy pieces.  I did find it interesting how they kindly critique each other’s work and I felt confident, after hearing their comments, that I could do this as well.

After two hours, they were finished, and mentioned that normally there was usually a group of three or four that met every two weeks or so.  I have to say they were a very eclectic group.  Wasn’t sure what I was expecting but what I saw I felt comfortable being around, me being an Aspie and an introvert.  My husband asked me later if I was going back and I said yes but maybe only once a month or so.  I am looking forward to the group critiquing some of my work.  There are several published writers in the group and others who just have a life-time love of the written word.

So I survived my first writers’ group experience.  Now I need to work on my grammar since I’ve been told I use too many commas.  Thanks for reading.  Until next time, my friends, happy writing.  Oh, and reading because it was reported on the news this week that those who read live longer lives.  Go books!

 

I’m Just A Plethora of Personalities

I have a lot going on in my head, and body, currently. Let’s see: I’m an Aspie, Menopausal, arthritic, introverted, right-brained(left-handed), and deal with bouts of depression. And I have learned to be happy and grateful throughout it all.

I have learned that being introverted does not mean that one is shy, but rather means that you enjoy your own company and wish not to be the center of attention or the life of a party. Unless it is a party of one, or two, if my dear husband is involved. And as for being an Aspie, it just means that my brain is wired differently. Does not mean I have a disease. When I was younger and in school, it hurt deeply that I was being rejected on a constant basis, and not understanding the why of it.

Here I am, a writer, though an unpaid writer(as of this writing), who relishes in sharing words that come pouring out of my brain and straight into my tiny little fingers. What joy I find in it. And, if I haven’t already mentioned it previously, I am going through the NaNoWriMo 30-day challenge to write 50k words. I’m more than half way through, for those who may be interested.

I also see the world differently. And I like that fact. Everyone is an individual who needs to see things around them as they see it. No one is a puppet. No one needs to feel that they don’t fit in if they don’t see things as others do. That is what makes us unique. I love being unique.

And as for being menopausal and arthritic, I guess that means I getting old. But I’ve had a good life up to this point, and I’m praying that whatever years I have remaining will be good also. Just need to keep working out, which unfortunately I seem to be like a damn teeter-totter, up one day and down the next. Consistency is what I lack and that needs to end. Especially with winter’s cold breath breathing down upon us here in the Midwest, I need to bundle up to work out in our garage, where we have our weights.

So, there you have it. Me in a nutshell. A woman who loves to laugh, a lot, and I must admit that I even have a peculiar type of laugh. I am deeply interested in what others think and believe, especially as a writer. I am a people-watcher. What they wear, how they move, how they talk. Again, the writer thing. I want to be more dedicated to taking better care of myself, especially as I’m getting older. I’m 51 now, so I’m not getting any younger, folks.

But I love life. I love my family and close friends. I hope that everyone reading this is content with what they have and are in this life. We only have this one life and so many years t live it. If you’re not happy, please find out why and seek out your true joy in this world. Don’t let it pass you by before it’s too late. Embrace it, learn to not only love yourself but like yourself as well. You, dear friend, are an original!