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Are the clouds finally parting?

Are the clouds finally parting?

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Nope! And that’s how I ended up with a vitamin D deficiency.

Ugh! I guess it makes sense though, with an average of 299 cloudy days a year where I live; it’s no wonder. I moved here from Hawaii, and it wasn’t until recently that I noticed just how different I’ve been feeling. Perhaps it was a gradual thing? Also, probably about a year after moving here about 3 1/2 years ago, I had experienced a tragic life event that left me crushed. I won’t go into exactly what that was, it’s still too painful for me to talk about, but I thought it was the only reason that I haven’t been feeling like myself for so long.

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I finally went to the doctor and explained to her the way I’ve been feeling. Depressed and exhausted. She sent me for some blood work, and I forgot about it for a while.

Then I received a letter (and vitamin D prescription) from my doctor saying that I had a deficiency and it gave me the instructions on how to take my prescription. The letter said my goal levels were between 50 and 100 and my level was currently at a 19.

Well, I have no idea what a vitamin D deficiency or those levels mean or what the symptoms are so I read a few articles, and I was shocked and relieved. Here is a link to one of the articles, in case your interested.

You might want to read it, because as it states, “more than 40 percent of Americans are deficient” and that “Aches and pains? You can easily chalk them up to the aftereffects of your last workout—or simply not being 20 anymore. Tiredness? That could be because you aren’t getting enough quality sleep.”

I know, I know. You had no idea that I wasn’t in my 20s anymore since I look so young.

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I found that I had quite a few of the symptoms.

Depression ✅

Muscle Weakness ✅

Tiredness ✅

Crankiness ✅  What? No way! I’m a delight!

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Actually, I haven’t been super cranky, but I also haven’t been my normally happy self. Maybe moodiness would be a better descriptor for me. I’ve definitely been moody. I’ve been either very happy or extremely low.

For years, life has felt overwhelming and exhausting. My writing suffered. I wondered what was wrong with me. But maybe now I know. At least the physical component anyway. But I’m also taking steps to work on the emotional pain that I was too scared to confront or admit before.

I started taking my supplements last week, and I’m already feeling better. I can’t believe the difference in my energy and mood. I’m feeling quite happy and hopeful. The thought of returning to the way I used to feel (without needing to take some drug with its own commercial and side effects like nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, difficulty breathing, and death) is incredible.

I’m so happy that the thought of working on my novels feels exciting again and not like a chore anymore.

AND I’m thrilled to announce that I’ll be co-hosting a new Indie tag on Twitter. @Peachytags

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You’ll be able to play along with me and my wonderful co-hosts, @Billie_Jean00 on Saturday mornings at 730 AM. (You know I’m feeling better if I said yes to something that happens before 10 AM on a Saturday! Ha ha!)

 

It’s going to be so much fun. If you’re on Twitter, I really hope you’ll follow our tag and play along.

And you know what… I change my mind. The clouds are indeed parting.

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I have a very good feeling that my efforts to write, clean, work, or do just about anything else will go from feeling like this…

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To feeling like this…

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I’m so excited to move forward, and I can’t wait to feel like me again! Woot woot!

 

 

 

 

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Thanks for the support

Thanks for the support

Hello friends, just an update from last weeks blog (in case you were wondering how I’m doing) I’m feeling much better. Hopeful. Stubborn. Determined. I’m sure I’ll end up down in the dumps again one day, but it’s so nice knowing I have so many hands reaching out to help me back up.

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So many of you reached out to me with encouragement and support after my last post. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated it. All your messages of support made me feel like I wasn’t alone and just maybe people actually appreciated my writing and connected with my voice. I used to feel like I was just shouting into a void with this blog. I know that’s not true now.

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So many of you supported my need to take a break that the pressure I was putting on myself just drifted away. The next morning, I was filled with the urge to write. When my writing didn’t feel like something I had to do anymore, the joy naturally drifted back into my heart.

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Sometimes it’s hard to admit, or even recognize, that I need support, but it really did make a difference. I loved the interaction with all of you who read my blog post and took the time to send me a message. I honestly had no idea how many people were reading along. It touched my heart. Thank you to everyone who reached out to me. I was overwhelmed by the amount of beautiful, inspiring messages…and only one dick. Ha ha! There always has to be one, doesn’t there?

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Thanks again for all the love you sent me. I’ve brushed off the dust, and I’m ready to do this!

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To buy my book, ASTER THE SPIRIT TALKER, click here.

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I want to quit.

 

I want to quit.

Lately, I hate myself. I hate who I am. I hate what I do. I hate my personality. I hate my feelings. I hate everything about me. I feel like a failure, and I want to quit. Everything.

I thought about deleting this blog. I thought about moving all my novels and stories into the trash and deleting them forever. Deleting myself.

I’m even a failure at failing. I think about giving up on writing because I don’t feel like I need any more rejection in my life and what do I do? I write about it. Maybe I just need to give up on trying to be successful at writing in any way that would acknowledge me as a “real” writer and move on. I certainly don’t need any more trolls on Twitter questioning the fact that I’m a “writer” when I don’t write (as they see it), never considering the fact that pen names exist. And oh, I can’t possibly be a writer if I have a typo anywhere. Because being writer somehow makes you super-human and incapable of errors. Writers, after all, are never in need of those people called editors. We know it all. Isn’t that right?

I’m tired of the advice from writers and non-writers about how I should be writing more and not doing other things. And nothing is worse than the non-writers who are so sure they could write a book if they wanted to and feel the need to give me their little pearls of wisdom. This isn’t my first book. Every time I’ve tried to write in a way that isn’t part of my personal process, I’ve failed. I realize these people are all trying to help, but I still grow weary of hearing it all.

I’m paralyzed by the horrible fear that comes when I think about sharing anything I’ve written because I’m absolutely positive that it’s all shit. I’m shit.

When I think about finishing this book and querying agents, the joy is immediately sucked dry from my body. Working with a small press was a soul-crushing disappointment that left me feeling used and stupid. Those are the options, though, if I want to be a “real” writer.

I’m very close to finishing this book, but at this point, I just don’t care if I ever do.

I’ve, once again, moved into the shadows and I don’t really feel any desire to try to step out into the light. My heart is broken. My spirits are broken. I am broken. Most of all, I feel like I deserve to be a broken heap of nothing who will sit and wait until the moment I break down into fine dust and blow away.

I want to quit. But here I am–writing. And I’m sure, one day, bits of light will seep into my heart, get it pumping in an exciting rhythm again that gives me the heart to get up and keep trying.

Until then…*Sigh*

 

 

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I lost a friend.

I lost a friend.

Recently, I lost a friend, a friend I wanted to keep in my life forever. But there was a problem–one I was unable to overcome. I lost the trust I had for this friend. They hurt me, more than once. And since I loved them,  I tried to forgive. I tried to forget. I worked to trust them again but I couldn’t. I was suspicious of every word they said and the way their actions made me feel, even if their explanation was reasonable. But you can’t have a real friendship without trust, can you?

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I don’t blame this person. We all make mistakes. I wish I could have figured out a way to trust again, but I just don’t know how and for that reason, I know that I share the responsibility for the ending of our friendship. I don’t often let people get that close to me, and I’m sure in the future I’ll be that much more guarded about who I let in. My heart will always have a small crack that will never heal from their absence, but it’s better to live with that crack than to feel like my heart is being dragged around and stomped on–even if it isn’t.

I’m sorry.