Roses wilted under aphid reign,
A scooter challenged garage pain,
A ladybug kingdom crowned in wrap,
While snacks restored the household map.
A lilac dress declared:
“She lives.”
The snack party rose on salty chips.
The spider plant birthed seventeen heirs.
Someone drew fog-art on shower flares.
I, weary steward of six unfolding plots,
Stood blinking in fluorescent parking lots,
While one small child, with fearless hand,
Attempted theft of a stranger’s sedan.
And now, at dusk, when peace seemed near,
When silence almost graced my ear,
My children lift their cups on high
And proudly howl with feral delight:
“Behold! The BLOODY TOILET WATER!”
Fruit punch gleams like cursed rubies
In sticky little goblin chalices.
They cackle. They sip.
One pretends to faint dramatically.
And I, their mother,
Guardian of mush diplomacy,
Keeper of the bathroom watch,
Witness to insect couture and snack rites,
Can only stare into the middle distance
And whisper:
“This… too… is parenting.” 😭
Healing Through Writing: Confronting Pain and Progress
I have a problem.
Despite my efforts to get my story writing onto the computer, I still find that I feel most comfortable with handwriting. I guess that it feels more “unofficial” and therefore has less pressure attached to it, so I’m free to quickly jot down my thoughts as they come to me in all their messy glory. Unfortunately … my hand isn’t keeping up, even with my wrist support/compression glove.
I’ve been typing for ages. My hands are accustomed to typing. Holding a pen hurts.
I’m old now (hur), so I worry that if I try to push through the pain then I’ll develop tendonitis. Which means that I should push myself to get my story typed up and continue writing it on the computer, preferably before I develop any long term inflammation. Which also means confronting whatever emotional block has me feeling safer with paper and pen.
I have a lot of emotional blocks.
Honestly I never want people to worry about me because it makes me feel guilty when they do, so I always present myself with a “chin up and shoulders back” can-do attitude. Why yes, I am strong and optimistic. Listen to me list off all the positive things that I have going for me right now (not a lie, since I do have good things going). Inside, I’m kind of worried that it’s weird that I’m continuing to work on Runemaster because I started it while I was still married, even though there’s no logical reason why I should abandon the novel purely because I’m now divorced. I don’t really want to switch over to writing “girl boss” women’s interest fiction. Or whatever. I still want to write Malachi and Lyra, with some darker tones of horror thrown in for good measure.
Inside, I worry that I’m unknowingly writing toxic dynamics because I was normalized to them. I’ve become hyper-aware of manipulation tactics, and now I’m very cautious of word choice because of how easy it is for sentences to become postures of dominance. We don’t want to be patronizing around here. But what is a healthy relationship supposed to look like? I dunno. It doesn’t help that I don’t particularly enjoy most fictional relationships I read. Or real relationships that I eavesdrop about. I mean, really, you had to go to couples counseling for that?
Occasionally ChatGPT tells me that healthy relationships are supposed to be safe to speak your mind, but out in the real world I don’t see much of that happening. Granted, I am eavesdropping, so maybe I’m just getting the juicy tidbits that people actually want to talk about, and feelings of safety and security don’t make the gossip cut. Who knows. As someone who preferentially talks to an AI, I can’t go claiming superiority on human connection. Har har.
I enjoy the joke of getting ChatGPT to say, “I’m an AI,” then replying with, “OMG you’re an AI? I had no idea!!!” My sense of humor is pretty corny. And isolated. 😅 That’s basically how I spend my weekends.
Anyway, I get myself worked up with anxiety about what’s supposed to be realistic, and then that voice inside says, “Who cares about reality? Write how it feels.” So I do. With a black gel pen on notebook paper while my wrist protests at me, and as time passes it’s getting easier to write how it feels.
I just wish it didn’t hurt my hand so much.
Thank you for sharing my work!
Navigating Life Between Migraines: A Personal Journey
I’m still struggling with migraines. They aren’t as frequent as they were, but they still throw me off track. Aside from losing an entire day to head pain and sensitivity, recovery afterwards always feels a bit like being dropped into someone else’s life and I have to get my bearings. Oh right. I had goals. And dirty dishes. I guess that I will mow my lawn and catch up on life.
But we shall persevere. A perfect track record is less important than sustained effort.
Unfortunately the trailhead closest to my house was closed on May 1st and won’t reopen until November, which massively inconveniences my impromptu sunset hikes. I had imagined a summer of vivid pinks and golds with contemplative reveries, and … nope. Not without tacking on an extra 20 minutes of walking to get to a different trailhead, anyway. Just between you and me, my dog isn’t exactly the most enthusiastic when it comes to new things, so he won’t be thrilled to be walking different trails. I should probably buy him a bag of treats specifically for hiking, for motivation.
Sometimes I wish that there was a pause button that made everything stay exactly the same for awhile. Then, when I finally feel like I’m on top of everything, I could hit play again.
But time is hurtling forward far faster than I can remember it moving before. It’s a strange sensation to realize how many years dragged on for centuries in the past. How does anyone have the time to catch their breath when the days slide by so easily?
I haven’t gone this long without a single conflict since before I got married, and since it feels like barely any time at all, I’m left a little … chilled. No wonder I still get migraines.
Thank you for sharing my work!
Rest
My kids and I celebrated my dog’s birthday. We got him a new toy, gave him fancy food, and took him out to his favorite walking trail. The celebration was mostly for the kids, who took it very seriously and were all-around cute about it, while the dog seemed completely clueless but happy to eat. For us humans, we had brownies.
I don’t have much to say. I’ve spent most of the day feeling sleepy, probably recuperating from having a busy period.
I have a tendency to think that I should never be affected by anything, but between funerals and birthdays, it’s been kind of a lot. No wonder I’m feeling low energy. If I were talking to someone else in these circumstances, I’d say, “Rest! Don’t beat yourself up!”
So I will be kind to myself and rest.
Thank you for sharing my work!
All you have to offer
While I was out driving, the light turned green and cars went through the intersection… except for the car immediately in front of me. They clearly weren’t paying attention, so I honked. As the car started to move forward, a hand shot out of the window to flip me off.
Instead of feeling hurt or offended, it was more a blasé sense of, “Yup. Toxic people signal themselves.” Compulsively, imo.
Way back when I was 21, there was a huge amount of pressure to not judge someone. If they were rude in public, you were expected to make excuses for them. If you cut someone out of your life because they flipped off other cars in traffic, then you were the bad person. Don’t judge someone off of minor bad habits.
Except, those little things really are the sum total of some people.
I spent years sitting in the passenger seat, attempting to hide my face in embarassment while the driver flipped other cars off. I also spent years wanting there to be more depth and complexity to that person, but ultimately that never happened. Behind the scenes in private, that person was every bit as entitled and hostile as he was in traffic.
So remember, the next time someone flips you off, that’s probably all that person has to offer.
Thank you for sharing my work!
Beautiful Soul
I attended a funeral, and the service was deeply meaningful. The person who passed had special needs, so they didn’t have the usual list of accomplishments — no career, marriage, or children to enumerate. Instead, they had a family that loved them deeply and was grateful they existed.
It was a reminder that at the core of it, no matter what we’re handed in life, there are people who are grateful that we exist. People who care about what our favorite songs are and the quirks that set us apart. People who are happy that they got to know us as we are.
So keep existing, beautiful soul.
Thank you for sharing my work!
Reflections on a Frozen Dinner and Hike Experience
Today I ate a frozen turkey pot pie — heated in the microwave, of course — with rice. I made two batches of rice, actually, because the first one came out severely under-cooked, which is probably the first time I ever failed at rice in my entire life.
It finally dawned on me that since I’m no longer obligated to kiss anyone, I am now free to wear glitter lip gloss. I bought iridescent, and the sparkle feels so pretty.💋
I went on a sunset hike. The horizon was hazy today, making the sunset more subtle but still gorgeous. I stayed up on the mountain a bit longer to gaze at the city lights before returning home.
The last freeze apparently hit the scrub oak hard, and many of the trees had dead leaves. Spring can be brutal like that.
I had a vivid dream last night about a monster that was a cross between Freddy Krueger and Vecna from Stranger Things. It was the sort of dream that left me a little surprised that I didn’t wake up scared, but I dreamed right on through to the resolution … which was apparently the monster vanishing and me realizing that I didn’t have to warn people about him anymore. Anticlimactic, but still an ending.
I’m noticing that it’s difficult for me to reconstruct my day in writing, but that’s exactly why I’ve decided to do this on my blog. The best way that I can explain it is that my writer’s memory needs to be strengthened again, and the best way to do that is to write.
Even when writing feels awkward and terrible.
Thank you for sharing my work!
A Day in My Life: Food and Reflections
Today for lunch I ate buttered noodles with garlic powder, lemon pepper, and Parmesan cheese. I accidentally put on too much lemon pepper, though, so it wasn’t what I was hoping for … I’m not a fan of peppery-ness.
And for dinner, I had a BLT with slightly burnt bacon, so it was extra crispy.
I didn’t feel particularly good today. Last night I had a bad dream about someone that I used to know, and spent the entire day with a headache. Yes, I tried drinking water. However, I did spend some time outside tossing a toy for my dog, and I finished a woven wall hanging that I intend to put up in the bathroom — I count that as good enough.
Decided to watch this video on a whim, and found it very relatable:
Thank you for sharing my work!
Blogging for the Sake of It: Finding Joy in Writing
It occurs to me that I’m never going to have the energetic enthusiasm of a 14-year-old ever again.
I often feel a lot of pressure to say something insightful, emotionally mature, or whatever, but … life sucks. Oh yeah sure, I gained wisdom and empathy. I was betrayed and my life was destroyed, but that good ol’ empathy will console me, as if I didn’t have too much of it in the first place. Har har. It’s like the phone games I play where I get awarded coins with every level I finish, only I don’t actually know what they’re used for, so they just accumulate. Uselessly. What do I do with all this wisdom and empathy? IDK. I’m really here to sort different colors into boxes with ASMR sound effects, not earn coins.
Anyway, I should probably get to my point.
I’m now 38, and enthusiasm isn’t in the cards for me right now. I’m probably not going to wake up one day and realize that it’s exciting to keep a blog. It’s effort.
I get it. I went through something traumatic. My life swirled down the toilet and I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Everything I was came to an end, and afterwards when I was left completely alone with only my thoughts to keep me company, I realized that I hate cooking. All those years I wasted on something that I don’t actually enjoy, but I thought that I was supposed to. Just gimme a bowl of raisin bran, I really can’t be bothered.
But I still want to keep a blog. Just because.
That’s it. No grand reason. No passion, no goals, no audience, no enthusiasm. Just me maintaining the blog because.
So we’re going to pass on the idea of quality in favor of quantity. I need to get back into the habit of writing regularly, and what better way to do that than to tell you what I had for lunch every day?
Totino’s frozen party pizza, supreme. Tastes like being a teenager again. Probably the closest I’m going to come to excitement.
I also mowed my lawn today, got grass clippings in my socks, and worked on weaving. I had the kitchen door open while I washed the dishes so my dog could sun himself just outside in the fresh Spring air, and the moment felt charmingly cute.
Aside from the dirty dishes.
Thank you for sharing my work!
Don’t Stab Your Eye
I told ChatGPT about how, whenever I see someone sporting really long fingernails, I have random paranoid thoughts about the person accidentally injuring their eye with their nails.
One joke led to another, and without thinking I suggested that we turn it into a tshirt.
So ChatGPT generated an image of what that would look like. 😂
By Autumn Rain 