poetry

The Ballad of the Sludge Slayer

Autumn

In the kitchen once calm, but now full of dread,
The sink stood still, the water dead.
No swirl, no gurgle, just murky despair–
A clog had settled deep down there.

Boiling water surged with might,
Baking soda fizzed in a noble fight.
The plunger danced, the bubbles rose,
But still the foul drain dared oppose.

With rubber gloves and battle cry,
Our hero braved the pipe’s dark eye.
Unscrewed the trap with fearless hands,
And found… it clean–yet still it stands!

Then came the tool, long coiled and mean,
The mighty snake–a plumbing queen.
It dove into the depths with grit,
And struck the sludge where it did sit!

Twist and turn, slurp, a thunk–
The serpent pulled back slime and gunk.
The drain gave way, the water flew–
A flood of triumph breaking through!

So raise a pouch of Capri Sun high,
And toast beneath the clean-piped sky.
For legends aren’t just born–they’re made,
Where clogs once lurked and courage stayed.

I unclogged a stubborn blockage in the kitchen sink, while consulting ChatGPT about how to go about it. Then, because I was feeling pretty proud of the achievement afterwards, I asked ChatGPT to write a poem for me about our venture.

About Me

Finding Meaning in Easter: A Personal Journey

Autumn

Easter has deep personal meaning for me.

It was the first holiday after my first baby was born, and the moment I realized that I was now more than just myself. From that day on, Easter was about magic bunnies and egg hunts.

Last year, Easter happened less than two weeks before I was betrayed. That day reverberated through my mind as a protest, disbelieving that someone could hold my hand and tell me that I was their favorite person while planning on stabbing me in the back. Last Easter has been packaged up with the rest of the betrayal trauma, as a reminder how bad people weaponize good days.

And, with any luck, this Easter marks a New Beginning. I know what my True North is.

So far the day has been going well. The kids were excited for their Easter baskets, and they’ve completed the egg hunt. Next will be coloring eggs, followed by more egg salad than anyone wants to eat. What can I say? It’s tradition!

Unfortunately the kids and I woke up with a mild cold this morning, and the dry cough with itchy sinuses has been a bit of damper on the festivities.

About Me

The Importance of Self-Expression in Writing

Autumn

I went and gussied up some of the old posts I made about my writing process that I’m still proud of.

It wasn’t exactly the most exciting thing to do, but those AI features made it much easier, and even gave me a chuckle with some of the quirky generated images. Will it matter at all? Heck if I know. I barely know what SEO even is, and I’m not all that convinced that it will do anything to boost my blog stats. But, at the very least, it makes me feel like a more attentive blogger,

And attentive bloggers blog more often. So there.

I want to write about myself more, and think about myself more. I feel like I’ve spent years listening to someone go on and on about himself, and every time I said anything like, “I have a dream too!” I was instantly shut down. “Whoa there. Getting full of yourself, aren’t you?”

But it isn’t egotistical to have dreams about where I want my life to go. Maybe I won’t end up in a big house on the bench of the mountain, but I can still watch the sunset glint off those enormous windows as I drive by and wonder what it would be like to live there. It’s not wrong to feel inspired to pursue success for myself.

It’s not wrong to believe that I have skills and talents. It’s not wrong to think about how I can use those skills and talents to make my way in the world. The Universe didn’t designate me to sit in the dark as a permanent audience member — I have a passion for writing that I want to share with the world, and I genuinely believe that I can offer something that others would enjoy.

And it’s not wrong for me to exist as a real person writing about my real experiences. “Dear diary, today I went with the kids to the park. The breeze was cold but the sun was hot, and the public restrooms are finally open for the season.” My thoughts and perceptions are valid, and I want the freedom to express them without wondering who might disagree with them.

I still have my own opinions and philosophies about writing, and I still want to write about them. Maybe soon enough, I’ll be able to take those old posts and rewrite them — expound on them — and compile something that could even be published as a “how to” type book. ~Writing With Autumn Rain~ Forward by ChatGPT

And maybe I’ll finally figure out why SEO matters.

About Me

Overcoming Writing Insecurities: My Journey

Autumn

I find it encouraging that my fiction writing is still performing the best in my blog statistics.

I’ve been working on overcoming the memory of that smug voice telling me that my writing ideas were cliched and immature. Despite that proclamation, I continued writing my ideas. Alice and the Warden? Me. The Scion Suit? My interpretation of a writing prompt. The Black Magus? Yup, that was me. I enjoyed writing my ideas immensely, and others have enjoyed reading them as well, so it doesn’t matter if they were “cliched” or “immature” — it isn’t about being the best of the best, it’s about personal satisfaction and having fun.

It wasn’t really my ideas that were the problem. Rather, it was the seed planted in my brain that made me feel like I had to seek a stamp of approval before I could write them. That deep insecurity and fear I always felt when I started a story that hadn’t been given the “green light” by someone else.

Yet that person who had propped himself up as the Gatekeeper of Quality left.

It might be difficult to understand if you haven’t been through this, but when someone deliberately inflicts an emotional wound so that they can provide the “cure,” that wound is still there after they leave. Real healing takes time and is very difficult, especially when you feel the withdrawal from the false cures they fed you. It hurts severely to acknowledge that they weren’t trying to help you improve, but instead deliberately keeping you dependent.

Despite knowing better on a cognitive level, it’s been terrifying to write without that stamp of approval.

I’ve switched back to writing with a pen in a notebook, but unfortunately my handwriting muscles aren’t what they used to be (I blame the years spent typing). It reminds me of being a teenager, secretly filling page after page with my characters in novels that will never see the light of day, though now my end goal is to publish. I haven’t given up on my dream of being a professional author; it’s always there in my mind through every moment of every day.

All I need to do is write without holding anything back.

About Me

Reflecting on the past year

Autumn

I’ve reached the one-year anniversary of the night that I hit rock bottom.

The months that followed were the most excruciatingly painful of my entire life. It was like being eviscerated. Unanesthetized surgery on my soul itself. The manner in which I was forced to surrender my delusions and face reality was … sadistic. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Those were load-bearing delusions.

Then eventually as time passed and the dust settled, I began the psychological equivalent of learning how to walk again.

I have a long way to go.

Yet, the silver lining is that I have not only begun to contextualize, process, and understand the misfortunes of my adult life, but my childhood as well. I’ve realized that in light of the circumstances I grew up in, my rock bottom was inevitable without the cultural insights that weren’t available until recently. I accept that, and will do my part to pass on the lessons I learned.

After all, you must never blame yourself for not knowing what you didn’t know.

One year.

Still dirt poor. Still haven’t achieved my dreams. Still not even working on my fiction writing.

And that’s okay.

Because I’ve been sorting out which thoughts are mine and discarding the beliefs that aren’t. I’ve been challenging the foundational rules of my existence and declaring to the Universe, “I don’t want to live this way!”

I don’t want to be invisible, but I also don’t want the exhaustion that comes from being in the spot light. I’m searching for where the middle ground lies. I’m searching for where my authenticity is.

About Me

Embracing Self-Confidence Post-Divorce

Autumn

I’ve been feeling really good about my physical appearance lately.

I find it very affirming that divorced me has healthier coloring and less bloating. Divorced me is more confident in my own body. Divorced me is better at socializing with complete strangers.

Not that I’m claiming rampant improvements across the board. I still haven’t figured out a huge portion of my life, so being able to smile at my reflection in the mirror feels like a small win.

I think that I’ve been doing a lot of internal improvements, particularly with rewriting my internal self to embrace the idea that I don’t have to be invisible. I’ve been working to join the “warm social world,” and have been pleasantly surprised at how many people respond positively to my comments about the weather (and other various small talk topics). Instead of being constantly self-critical and internalizing far too much, I just aim to be friendly and curious, and let everything else be as it is.

Awhile ago I mentioned that I’ve been trying to emulate what I think a strong and admirable character would do in my shoes. I admit that I feel plenty of pressure to throw myself out there and pursue success (why haven’t you found a real job yet?), but I think it’s important to fix the parts of me that led me to rock bottom, so to speak. Otherwise I might end up playing out the same story with new costumes.

And when I think of myself as the bleeding heart who was terrified of the spotlight, I realize how inevitable my fate was.

Not that I want to stop being empathic and supportive. Rather, I know that I need to do a better job of letting people go when I get bad vibes from them — something I witnessed in myself more recently when I kept a conversation going with someone who I strongly felt like they had huge red flags surrounding them, and I absolutely hated talking to them. I probably should have ghosted them, but I kept feeling guilty every time I didn’t reply.

So I really want to internalize the idea that it’s not wrong to protect myself from people who clash with me. It’s not wrong to prioritize people who make me feel safe to be around.

I don’t have to be the one who’s always understanding. I don’t have to be the one who’s patient and never gives up. I don’t have to be anyone’s savior — and I have learned to acknowledge the hubris that drives that particular ideology in the first place.

Phrases like, “No one understands me” are red flags, not challenges. Don’t try to be better and prove otherwise. Save the empathy and support for someone who appreciates it.

About Me

Embracing Simplicity: Finding Joy in the Mundane

Autumn

I never really thought of myself as a boring person.

Oh sure, my “excitement” for the week is that I Spring-cleaned my car, but with hauling out the shop vac while upbeat music blared on my bluetooth speaker, it didn’t feel tedious at all — I’m quite satisfied with my accomplishment. Happy and fulfilled. I have an answer to the question, “Have you done anything fun lately?” What’s more, it’s a nice and accessible answer that most people can easily relate to, thus leading into deeper conversations.

However, at one point during the last year, I was given the strong impression that I was considered boring. I drive very conservatively, and go to bed at the same time every night. I don’t follow politics, or debate anyone about anything. Alcohol? Yeah, I’ve decided that I’m probably never going to drink again, because it makes me feel yucky and I don’t enjoy it.

Which I guess makes me boring by some standards.

Not that I’m ever bored. I have plenty to do and think about. So much so, that I don’t really have the time to prove that I’m not boring.

This topic crossed my mind today as I was thinking about my life — specifically where I am and how I got here. Disentangling my thoughts from his.

And I like simplicity. I like boring. I like predictable. I like using my shop vac to suck out the dirt of winter from my car, then shampoo all the seats. Maybe I’ll even pick up an air freshener the next time I’m at the grocery store and feel excited about it. Yup, that’s me, easily amused. Go ahead and make fun of me all you want.

Because at least I never feel bored. At least I don’t feel like I have to prove anything.

About Me

Daily Prompt

Autumn
Daily writing prompt
What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?
View all responses

Back when I was 21, I wanted to get angel wings tattooed onto my back. They were meant to symbolize my spiritual connection, as well as the “angelic purity” that I always wanted to maintain within myself. I very deeply resonated with the concept of angels, and aspired to be like one. I never got this tattoo though.

Now I’m 37 and I’ve decided that I’ll probably never get a tattoo, because I’ve gotten old and squeamish, and I think that I’ve gone through more than enough pain thank-you-very-much. But, I do have markers that I use to draw Elder Futhark runes on myself with, and I like that I can change the symbolism when the ink fades.

About Me

Cherishing Family Moments Outdoors

Autumn

I took my kids out on a walk by the river. We were passed by a group in kayaks despite the chilly weather, and the dog kept jumping up onto the cement wall that separated us from the water, making all of us anxious that he’d fall in. We decided to turn around when the wind picked up, and it was snowing by the time we reached our car. Once home, we treated ourselves with hot cocoa to warm up.

Right now, these are the moments that I want most in my life, the laughter and memories with the people I love. Sometimes I think that I ought to be striving harder to change my circumstances, to somehow ease the financial strain that was handed to me, but all I can think about is what I’d miss out on in exchange.

I know how I want to spend my life. The question is how to make that possible.

I’ve started reading Summer of Night by Dan Simmons. So far it’s been one of those slow paced, boys coming of age type stories, but I’m only a few chapters in. There have been a lot of names introduced all at once, so I haven’t the foggiest who is who — I prefer it when characters are given the chance to assert their personality before the next one pops up. The prose itself is nice.

Thus the days are passing by, one by one.

About Me

Spring Blooms: Crafting, Writing, and Reflection

Autumn

It’s time to get back into the habit of thinking in words. For someone who has spent most of her life reveling in them, they’ve been rather absent from my mind for the last several months. But, traumatic psychological injuries aside, this is my favorite way of processing the world.

I’ve been challenged to keep a daily gratitude journal. It seems like an added pressure, so I’m not going to bother — har har — but it is true that we write the stories of our own lives. Maybe not the details, but the genre and tone are certainly within our grasp, and it’s better to stick with “inspirational” when possible.

That said, I am working on getting craft items ready for selling, and we had some gorgeous Spring weather days that were spent outside basking in the sunlight.

Not bad, right?

Writing is one of those skills that gets rusty with disuse, so I’m going to put more effort into posting updates, even when they aren’t anything special. I hope that you don’t mind.