Guest Blogger: Lacey

Hihi! How’s it going guys? Today’s post is a bit different. See, I’ve seen guest bloggers over the years I’ve read blogs, but I’ve never done one myself. After talking to my friend Lacey, who was also interested in having a guest blogger… We decided to switch gears and write something for each other! Each of us wrote about the things that make us lucky. Without further ado, let’s hear Lacey out. Give her all your love, guys!

Hello, there! My name’s LaceyAnne! You can call me Lacey. I’ll be your guest blogger today! I’m a good friend of Jaluna’s (herein called “Lunaluv”), and am so honored to be her first guest blogger! I’m a call center rep and Game Master (at an escape room) by day, and a writer by night. I also read Tarot, make boondoggle, play with cats, all that good stuff. You can find me and my blog at

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, by the way! In the midst of all this Coronavirus chaos, I’ve decided to honor St. Patrick’s Day by writing to you all about what makes me feel lucky in life. 

First of all, I’m lucky to be here. You see, after my mom had my sister, she was told she was infertle. Six years later, “Merry Christmas, you’re pregnant!” With me. My mom had several complications while pregnant with me. And when I was born, my umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck twice. I almost strangled myself! But I made it!

Skipping over my spoiled childhood, I’m still very lucky in my adult life. I have my boyfriend (herein called “Beloved”) who treats me like a queen. When I do something stupid or impractical, Beloved teaches me how to do it the right way. The other day, he got really mad at me. But when he saw how I was reacting to his anger at me, he almost immediately calmed and hugged me. And promised me he would teach me better. And we have this wonderful apartment together, Beloved and I. And we work as a team. I’m so lucky to have him in my life.

I’m lucky to have my two cats (herein called “Kittehs”). They’re not as cuddly as I’ve always wanted, but they do love us and we love them. Sometimes the Kittehs cuddle with us. 

I’m so lucky to have Lunaluv as such a good friend. She’s so awesome, supportive, loving, and helpful. I always know I can rely on her to support me when I’m stressed. She’s one of my best friends–and that’s saying something. I don’t have the luxury of many friends. I just wish there was more I could do for her on a regular basis. 

I have a home, a job, family, friends, pets, electronics, clothes, food, and water. I have blankets galore and indoor plumbing. I have a car and furniture.

Sometimes, we forget how lucky we are. What things in your life make you feel lucky? Thank you for reading! Stay safe! 

Topical Tuesday: Oopsie Daisy!

Howdy everyone! I’d like to formally apologize for skipping out on a week of posts… again. I’ve been up to a lot of stuff, like re-planning a project or two and doing some stuff for work at the literary magazine, but I’ve also been struggling with thinking of just what to say for posts, and the need to apologize escalated and well… Here we are, with me trying to figure out what I’m saying as I type.

I’ve been feeling pretty stressed recently. My romantic relationship has felt like a struggle recently as my boyfriend has so many hours at work, his entire life is basically work then sleep and then work again. Not being able to talk to him much affects my mental health and stress levels, naturally- so that’s one issue right there. I’ve also been getting over a sinus infection most of the past month. I was put on heavy antibiotics earlier this month, and just finished taking them yesterday. My headaches have indeed been less frequent, but I’ve still managed to get one or two really bad migraines this past week. I’ve been loving my prescription sunglasses during those times, but they can only help so much- so I spent a lot of time curled up in bed, covering my head to avoid any excess light or noise.

Despite my issues this past week, I have managed to do a couple youtube videos. I actually have a backlog now for Wednesdays, because I did two last week that I haven’t posted yet. I may redo them though, because one of them in particular was pretty bad quality even by my usual standards. (I was thinking of doing a ‘what’s in my makeup bag’ one week since I really like makeup and I use it to plan characters sometimes, as weird as that may sound).

Let’s see, what else do I have to say… Oh! If you haven’t been watching my youtube channel at all, you won’t know this: I went to Mitsuwa, a Japanese market in my area, with a friend last Tuesday (I was exhausted after it, which is partially why Tuesday’s post didn’t happen). There’s all sorts of stores by Mitsuwa from Japan, including a nice bookstore and a drug store, which we went to after lunch. I got a lot of neat things, but the thing I’m happiest about buying is a physical copy of The Bride was a Boy by Chii. I absolutely love this manga and have read it more times than I can shake a stick at online, but having it physically in my hands is great, and I read it the day I got home while dad was borrowing my computer desk.

If you don’t know what this manga is, it’s an autobiographical sort of manga, about Chii’s transition as a male-to-female transgender person. She explains everything from coming out to getting surgeries done, and gives great infographs at the end of chapters to explain proper term usage, laws, and other things. It’s also her love story, as it follows her life from youth until she became a bride. Her husband was actually the one who got her to publish the comic as a book and not just as a comic blog, which is what it started as. It has adorable art and is just really heartwarming to read. I recommend it to anyone and everyone. <3

I got some other neat things while I was out, like a couple of neat pens. You can see most of what I bought in the following youtube video I’d made the next day:

I really don’t have much else to tell you or update you on this past week… But this week is going to be pretty busy. Tomorrow I’m going with my dad to get him some cardiology tests he needs to find out if he has the same heart defect I had until getting surgery a couple years ago. Thursday, I see my psychiatrist as well as my case manager, who I need to talk to about a number of doctor issues. I have no clue about the weekend. Luckily, I have ideas right now for blog posts, so I’ll be writing some more today to have prepared for at least Thursday and Saturday if I’m lucky.

Anyway, sorry for the long delay! Don’t worry, I’m still alive and kicking!

Throwback Thursday: Learning and Me

Good morning, friends! Today, I’d like to talk to you about a subject that’s always been a bumpy ride for me: Education. I’m not proud to say it, but I’m a high school drop out. I’ve always had issues with absenteeism in my life, because I get sick easily, have chronic migraines, and a number of other issues. I’m not actually intending to talk much about that, however: what I want to talk about is the fact I wasn’t always a bright student. In fact… I was pretty bad at being a student in my early years.

Throughout elementary school, I was a lot slower than my classmates, physically and mentally. I couldn’t seem to write well no matter how hard my teachers tried to, well, teach me. I was always clumsy and struggled with my physical education from regular falls and lack of muscle compared to my heavyset physique. It got to a point where it was decided I needed both physical therapy and occupational therapy while I was in school.

This was an issue that continued through part of middle school. My two therapists came to see me and would pull me out of classes to get my work with them done. While occupational therapy involved all sorts of things, including simple movements like lunges and wall facing push-ups, occupational therapy focused mostly on my reading and handwriting skill. To this day, my handwriting remains notably messy, but at least I recognize the letters now, which I struggled with in my early years.

I have a learning disability or two. I’m dyslexic with a side of dyscalcula. Words and numbers always felt they were moving around on the pages in my text books, so I always ended up making notably errors, even if it made sense if they looked at my work. I also just have a bad memory. In high school, I was given a number of tests- IQ tests, memory tests, things like that. It was noted to me afterwards that I had a low(ish) score on information retention, which honestly didn’t surprise me. I don’t know why that is, but it was already fairly obvious to me- in middle school, I had to ask my friend every hour what day of the week it was.

I have one more health issue that doubles for causing me issues in classes. I have a form of OCD mixed with ADD. For me, I’m quick to change what I’m thinking about at any given time, under one condition: there’s no spelling or grammatical errors on the papers or the blackboard I’m looking at. I had a lot of teachers who’d make mistakes, and when I caught it, I could no longer concentrate on anything- I was fixated, praying I could alter it with telekinetic powers or something. It did and still does drive me crazy! I can’t finish paperwork if I don’t edit the fields that have typos- that goes for doctor’s offices and government documents I’ve had to fill out n the past, too.

So you see, I had a lot of issues with learning. From my inability to focus after noticing and error or just not really soaking in information very quickly, school wasn’t easy for me… but I loved it. I’ve always loved learning, and I still do. I have plenty of things that set me back, but I make an effort to learn something new each day.

What was school like for you guys? Did you have issues with learning in general, or just certain subjects? What were things that helped you to learn more easily? I’d love to hear all about your experiences! Whether you’re currently in school, graduated, or dropped out like me… I want to hear your story. I’ve already shared mine- now it’s your turn!

Have a great day, guys! See you on Saturday!

Throwback Thursday: Pet Stories

Howdy everyone, good to see you again! Today, I’m going to talk about some memories I have of pets that I’ve had throughout my life, or that I’ve known throughout my life. I have no pets at this time, as it’s too expensive in my apartment, but it’s not like I’ve never taken care of animals before.

When I was a toddler, we had a dog that came with our apartment named Cuervo. She was a collie/golden retriever mix, and wasn’t my greatest fan. She didn’t mind me, but she wasn’t exactly pleased I was always climbing on her back trying to ride her. I have very few memories of her in reality, but I saw a home video a while back. She would always run towards a wall to knock me off her- looking back, I almost feel a little guilty, even if I was a two year old with no understanding of what was going on.

I had a hamster once as well… But the only memory I have of it is a story my dad told me where I left the cage a crack open and it disappeared. I cried in hysterics, and my mother said we should’ve gotten another dog. I calmed down immediately at the idea of a dog, because I was six with no attention span.

On my 7th birthday, my parents brought home a two month old golden retriever puppy. He was already my size in length, and strong enough to knock me over regularly. I named him Cuervo Gold, after our first dog. Cuervo Gold, though, was very different than the collie mix we’d had. He was hyperactive and playful, and hysterically loyal in weird ways. Whenever I got home from school, he’d tackle me to the ground to give me kisses; when he came to the bus stop with my dad and I, he’d growl at the bullies to scare them away.

But, what I still find fascinating to this day is how differently he reacted when one of my family members gave him a command. If it was my father, he wouldn’t listen the first or second time- dad would have to yell to get him to listen many times. For me, he’d listen immediately- as a child, I was his favorite. But what’s funny is when my mom would command him. No matter what the command was, if it came from my mother’s mouth, he’d pee on the spot. Yes, it was a conditioned reaction- because frankly, he didn’t like my mom much. And nowadays, looking back, I don’t blame him.

A story that I wanted to share about Cuervo Gold is actually why I decided on this topic. Someone shared a gif of a squirrel with peanut butter, and it reminded me of something fairly silly. There was a time, you see, where we had his food in a bowl on the patio. One day, I noticed a couple of chipmunks come close to the sliding glass window that worked as our gate out of the house. To my amazement, the chipmunks were taking the food! It was something I’d never seen or thought of before. Chipmunks eating dog food? Apparently they’ll eat more than nuts, that’s for sure!

That also eventually led me to wondering if humans could eat dog food, and that curiosity led me to pushing my dad to eat a doggy treat. To this day, whenever I ask him how it was, he goes back and forth in regards to whether it was good or not, and I don’t know what to think of that. So, I try not to. Though because of it, I do sometimes think I’d like to try one for myself…

Anyway… We had to give up Cuervo Gold when I was ten and moving into my grandmother’s house with my dad. He’s since passed, but lived a long and happy life with my dad’s best friend, whom I call my uncle. In my grandmother’s house, we had new pets. There was a giant fish tank in the front hall, and a bird cage with two cockatiels in the living room. The fish didn’t have names that I knew of, but I did often help feed them. It was fun to watch them zip around the tank for food. What wasn’t so fun was when it was my turn to take the eggs out of the cockatiels’ cage. Those birds are quite possessive of their eggs, even if there’s no way they’ll hatch- after all, they were both female!

I unfortunately remember the death of one of the birds. Sparky, the younger cockatiel, died drowned in the water trough of sorts that was in the cage for her. It was after Tweety, the elder bird my grandmother called mine, had already passed. Sparky and I weren’t as close as I was with Tweety, but Sparky loved my dad….especially enjoying grooming him in his sleep, so that he’d wake up with bleeding cuticles. It made me sorta glad she wasn’t my fan- though it didn’t make it less difficult to see her dead body. I remember crying and clinging onto my dad. Sparky and I didn’t get along well, but I still saw her as family!

I’ve likely got other pet stories I can share, though most of them are of other people’s pets, not ones I had myself at any given time. Would those be interesting? And what about your pet stories? I’d love to hear some. Please feel free to share any or none- but if you do share, I will be extremely happy!

Until Saturday- bye bye, guys!

Throwback Thursday: Mental Health Diagnoses

Hey everyone, how are you? I’m doing alright myself, but I’m having some issues that regard my mental health. After looking back quite a while, I realized that I never actually told you all of my conditions and how they affect me in my daily life. I have a lot of diagnoses on my rap sheet, both physical and mental, but I was thinking that today, I could look back on my mental health issues and share just what happens when they act up. On that note, let’s begin. In no particular order:

Schizoaffective Disorder: Not my oldest nor my newest diagnosis, this disorder is essentially a two in one type of deal. People with schizoaffective disorder, from how my doctors have explained it to me, is when a person has schizophrenic tendencies (psychosis and the like) along with a mood disorder, such as my bipolar type 1 (the kind with full blown mania). It can also be schizophrenic tendencies and major depression disorder.

  1. In my case, this means I have hallucinations- mine tend to be more auditory, but I occasionally see people in a scene that aren’t there, which leads me to tugging at my dad’s shirt and asking if someone is real or not. My meds help with that now though, for the most part… So that’s good.
  2. Unfortunately, though, I also need meds that control my mania (which my anti-psychotic is actually additionally useful for). I once went to Walgreens on a walk and ended up spending eighty bucks I didn’t intend to spend. I was energetically leaving the store and gave myself a once over realizing what I’d just done. I didn’t go back though- instead, I kept it as a reminder to myself what happens when I shop alone (that, and I’d intended to get some cosmetics, just didn’t expect the price!).
  3. I have a fairly unhinged cycle when it comes to my mania and depression- but when they hit, they hit hard. I spend depressive cycles fighting my urge to self-harm, crying uncontrollably over the tiniest thing and basically just look and feel like a total nutjob.

Borderline Personality Disorder: I can’t help but bring this up again. Yes, I have a personality disorder. It basically means my ability to trust has been warped by my abandonment issues. And let me admit: I’ve been abandoned (emotionally) by a lot of people, all starting with my mother. By age thirteen, I had a psychiatrist wanting to label me with the disorder, but legally unable. But basically, I see the world in black and white, metaphorically speaking. There’s a fine line between good and bad and I can easily place people on one side or the other at the drop of a hat. It’s far from something I’m proud of, and I’m trying to fight it- but it’s still a problem, and it’s still part of me.

Generalized Anxiety Disorder (with Panic): As the name suggests, I have a strong tendency to be anxious over things that don’t require/normally trigger it in people. And, at times, my anxiety gets so bad I’ll have panic attacks over said things. I can get overly anxious over things like being late or spilling food. If it’s something to worry about, I can find it.

PTSD: I’m telling about what lead to those on Saturdays for a while, so I’ll just explain there. Besides, you probably know this one too.

OCD: Another common disorder, but how it affects me may not be quite the same as other people. For me, it’s an urge to correct things: adjusting all the store products to be aligned just right when I don’t work there, my inability to ignore a typo without correcting it or I can’t concentrate. You’d think this would make me very meticulous with my room or desk, but it doesn’t. I have my routines, but it doesn’t involve cleaning up. I’m still a clutterbug- just one that likes things to be all facing the same way.

I do have some other diagnoses, but these five are the main issues. I may do another of these but for my physical ailments, depending on what you guys think. But until then, let me know: do you want more? Do you have any of these yourself? Ask any questions or responses in the comments. I love hearing from you guys! But for now, take care. See you Saturday!

Soulful Saturday: Addiction

Welcome to another Soulful Saturday, everyone! Today, I’m going to talk about something very deep in my opinion: addiction. You see, addiction has played a part in a lot of my life. I both suffer from it and have seen it rip my family apart. In no way do I intend to endorse any form of addiction. Instead, I want to tell you what’s led me to it, and the history in my family that makes it most unsurprising.

When my mother abandoned my family, she claimed it was for the sake of her rehabilitation. She had an addiction to a few meds, to smoking, and to gambling. I used to come home to see her on the computer playing card games. Sometimes, she’d involve my innocent, single-digit aged self. She’d ask me to choose a random number, not telling me what it was for.

My mom was a habitual liar as well. She said she had quit cigarettes, but I’d catch her on the porch with a cigarette in her mouth lit up and glowing amongst the trees that were part of our backyard. That was the day I learned not to trust my mother… And yet I still tried to.

When I was eight, my mother gambled away my family’s business entirely. She also gambled away all our savings- and it was actually that that tore my family apart. I was kept in the dark about what my mother had done, and assumed the rehab was for her smoking. I didn’t know the details- I just knew that it was my mother’s birthday, my first day at a new school for third grade, and a day I’d never forget or forgive fully.

Of course, it’s not like my dad hasn’t had his own share of addictions… but his are generally caused by doctors, as are mine. We both suffer from severe pain, causing us to be on controlled pain meds. The thing with that is, after being on it for a while, you won’t feel as much of the aid, but you’ll definitely know the difference when withdrawal hits. Adding to that, I’m also addicted to some of my psychiatric medication. It’s not just emotional, either- some of them cause withdrawal that actually hurts my body a lot… which leads to more pain killers, which depresses me further.

Now, I’m someone who hates taking pills. I’m always trying to avoid using anything I don’t need- I fight taking things even when I need it, like tylenol or advil or even simethicone (also known as Gas-X). But my psych meds? I need those or I’ll start hallucinating and lose my mind. And the pain meds? If I don’t take them regularly, my pain gets to the point I can’t stop crying and whining.

Because I’m already addicted to meds, I’d like to not be addicted to anything else. Since gambling addictions run in my family on mom’s side (her dad had it too), I have worked hard to avoid gambling in any way… But now I let myself gamble in games that only use game currency, such as Harvest Moon DS.

I do have more than medication addiction, though. I’m also addicted to the internet, especially forums as of late. I’m a part of seven and planning to make my own with help from a friend. To most, that would seem insane! And you know what? It might be. Still, I prefer to focus on getting rid of one vice at a time.

My father and I are both trying to wean ourselves off the pain meds. I have to take at least two or three a day to avoid withdrawal, but it used to be up to six. Dad is working on multiple pain meds, while I’m on just one- tramadol. For dad, it’s even harder because he’s been on two different ones for so long… But I hope that for both of us, someday, we won’t need these meds… and we won’t have withdrawal because of it anymore.

Do any of you have an addiction problem? If you do, or just know someone with one, please let me know any tips and tricks they used to quit on their own! I could use all the help I can get.

Happy Saturday, everyone!

Soulful Saturday: High School

Hello everyone! It’s time for some deep diving into my psyche again as we enter another Soulful Saturday. Today, I decided to talk about something that’s not so secret, but something that I can’t stop feeling bothered by: high school, and the reason I failed to finish it.

If you were here last week, you’ll know already about my history of needing psychiatric medication and a hospitalization or two. And if you were here just the other day, you’ll know I was born with a heart condition. That said, I have a slew of diagnoses besides that: everything from fibromyalgia to spine damage, from congenital anosmia to an unusual case of hyperacusia. I have chronic migraines, a hormonal cycle as kind as a nasty mother-in-law, and blood pressure the polar opposite of the high that runs in my family. Basically, my genetic pool sucks.

Here’s where that became a problem for students in the old days: in a time where it was way harder to get an education from online sources legally, I was constantly out sick from school. If I was out six or more days, the quarter of that year was a failing grade automatically- and I failed a lot because of it. It didn’t matter I always had a doctor’s note. It didn’t matter if it was five days in a row because of the flu. If I was out, I was out. And eventually, being out led me to being kicked out. But that’s not the end of this story.

They did try other things, you see. They tried tutoring at the library which actually worked, until they discovered alternative schools for kids with issues like mine. The first one they sent me to was over an hour away from where I lived- if I felt even minorly sick, I refused to go in because there was no way I’d get to my doctor at a good time. Then, they switched me to a brand new one in town. And that’s when I learned something interesting.

Many students were absent far more than me and still passed. Apparently, the rules in those schools were based on the student’s town. It didn’t matter where I went- I was still a student of Paramus High School, even if I never had to step into that building to go to my classes. And because I was a Paramus student, I was held to the same harsh reality: Health was less important, in a way, than education.

I loved school is what’s funny. I’ve always loved learning, and I had great teachers most of my life. Sure, there were some hiccups, but for the most part, I was happy with the staff. I got along with my classmates, too. But once I was nineteen almost and retaking eleventh grade, my town decided keeping me as a student was too costly. I was expelled by their order, and have since not been to school ever again.

This is stuff that happened just under a decade ago, however. It’s not like the results ruined my life. I’ve yet to get my GED due to a multitude of complications, but I managed to get a job despite it because my boss, as well as being a kind person, saw my talents in editing and writing- we met in a writing group, after all! The fact I have this job, despite being disabled and a high school drop out, is more than special to me. Just thinking about how lucky I am to have met my boss and coworkers… I feel like crying!

So, I leave this post as a testament to the fact that, while it’s important to get an education, we don’t all get lucky hands. Play the hand you’re dealt, and remember there’s going to be some silver lining in your future. If it worked for me, it’ll work for you. I’m sure of it.

Soulful Saturday: Why Not To Say ‘I’m Fine’

Hihi everyone! Pull up a chair and relax as best you can, because today’s post is all about things my mental illnesses have lead to- and some of the quirks I’ve grown to have through experiences not all pleasant to the ever curious eye. If you’re easily triggered by things like hospitals, suicidal thoughts, some minor cursing, or just generally find mental illness as a topic too uncomfortable, you might want to skip this soul-searching session.

That said, let’s move on to today’s Soulful Saturday! Let’s show our support for Mental Health Awareness Month!

Before I can go through my story with mental illness, I think it’s important I share with you my list of diagnoses that will be discussed over time, not necessarily only in this post. I’m diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder with panic attacks; schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type; OCD; Borderline Personality Disorder… And I know there was something else, but I’ve honestly forgotten. My memory isn’t that great with all my meds and other health issues!

But there, now you have a base. Today, I’m going to focus mostly on the schizoaffective and the anxiety disorder. Why? Because honestly, I could write a book about Borderline, and I don’t feel like starting it now. Maybe another time.

My schizoaffective was likely the biggest problem for me in my youth. I’d be too afraid to leave the house if my hallucinations were bad (some weren’t scary, others scared my socks off). My mood would (and still does) change on a dime. But really, I want to focus on the schizo part of this: because it’s my schizo that led me to being hospitalized in high school. Well, the schizoaffective and the medicine I was put on because of it.

To The Hospital

For those of you that aren’t aware, I had a heart condition growing up, which I only got fixed maybe two years ago? I was put on a common antipsychotic called abilify- but the warnings on that medicine includes ‘do not take with a heart condition’. My doctor, however, was a total asshat. He threatened to have me taken away from my father if I didn’t take it! I told him about the reason, I told him when my heart problems worsened, and this horrible man just didn’t care a rat’s ass about my health swirling downward instead of getting better.

Now, I mentioned I was hospitalized. This isn’t because of the voices- this is because of my being triggered by mother’s day, which resulted me becoming depressed enough to contemplate suicide, as my homicidal rage towards my mother always made me feel worse. My mother abandoned me- how was I supposed to celebrate the woman that never wanted me outside possibly curing (or at least permanently putting into remission) her Crohn’s? So, after writing my journal about the pain, I shared it with my therapist… Who immediately called an ambulance. I’d been asking for years to go to the hospital, and I was finally getting what I wanted.

I was there ten days, and I saw a lot. One person tried to jab a pencil into their throat to commit suicide. A little kid constantly needed shots in his butt to calm him down. A guy kept eating the paper for the ward’s point system… I witnessed a lot, let’s just keep it at that. I was thankful to be off the abilify (first thing they did when they looked at my health file). Truly, I was. That’s probably why I was only there for ten days.

After the Hospital

For many, including myself at the time, it’s not well known that after you get out of the hospital, you often go to a day program called ‘partial hospitalization’, meant to help you return to your normal life. There were therapy sessions galore, from regular group therapy to art therapy. And I learned some valuable things! For one… I learned to hate the word ‘fine’, and to avoid using it when telling someone how I’m doing.

Now, I know many people see ‘fine’ as a bad term to use because it often means they don’t want to be honest. But there’s more to it, I learned. You see, fine is an acronym. There’s a reason it’s taken as opposite of the term’s meaning. You see, here’s what it means:

Fucked up
Neurotic and

That acrostic doesn’t sound like a great thing at all, does it? Ever since learning this at the partial hospitalization program, I’ve stopped accepting ‘fine’ as an answer to how someone’s feeling- because I know what it means: it’s a cover-up to avoid explaining what’s really going on in your life.

And that, my friends, is what I truly wanted to share with you today. I wanted to share how mental health can coincide with your body health, and how a visit to the hospital can teach you and change you. I know I haven’t gotten in as deep as I’d like, but… For now, just digest what I’ve shared so far. If you feel like sharing your own experiences in the comments, I’d love to hear them! But no matter what… please, never tell me you’re ‘fine’.

Soulful Saturdays: Why I Write

Hello everyone, and welcome to my first “Soulful Saturday” post, where I’ll be getting into the nitty gritty of my life, my writing, and how they often mesh together to create music no one necessarily wanted to hear, but I feel is needed to be heard. It generally won’t be specific to the part of my life I’m in- but right now, it will be… Because today, I’m going to share one of the things I love most about writing: treating my characters like absolute crap.

If you’re a writer, you probably know as well as I do the satisfaction that can come from making a character go through torment of some kind and even more so when they figure out a way through it. But, whether you’re a reader or not, that feeling can be caused by more than just the fun of literature itself- it can be quite personal. After all, the best way to make a story relatable is, well… Relate to it.

I’ve gone through plenty of pain in my life. Most of us have at least some pain, whether physically or mentally, don’t we? I started writing as soon as I learned to read, pretty much, and many times it was to fight the pain that came from early life’s difficulties.

By the age of eight my parents were separating- not that it changed my life that much, since my mother wasn’t a very motherly person. Still, it was her neglect I’d grown up with, and she was my mother. As a little girl, I thought it was normal for her to be that way… Then she just up and disappeared. Two years later, I was in a car crash with my dad. Dad needed surgery for his spinal damage (we’d been hit a few times in my life by then)… So we moved in with his parents, where there was constant turmoil and fighting.

By the age of ten, I basically lived on the computer to survive emotionally. Sure, I was in therapy, but that only did so much for a prepubescent who had trust issues as it was. Online, I felt safer than I did at home with all the noise and drama. But just chatting wasn’t enough. I needed something more substantial to deal with the stress.

And that, friends, is when I started writing. I wrote stories about children leaving their mothers to deal with losing my own mother to distance. I wrote a poem about how my house was like a war zone to me, and the way each family member made me think of the world as violent.

That’s also what lead to my first comic, I think- because honestly, I’d had the idea for it long before I could make it. I’d written it probably a dozen times in novel form, only to restart it and dare myself to go darker. With every story I write, every character I make, I’m making a part of me that I otherwise struggle to accept on its own. Of course, the stories aren’t solely based on me- but there are moments, just moments, where the things I struggle with come to light… And get dealt with in a way I wouldn’t imagine without my character’s aid.

To this day I continue to write with that as a reason in the back of my mind. I’ve also just grown to love my characters and words as a whole- and that’s why, right now, I’m writing this. Because this is a case of ‘a means to an end’. I was lead to writing by the strife in my life- and thanks to that, I’m here now, hopefully showing someone out there a new way to deal with their own pain… By writing through it as well.