Tag: blog

About Me

Productivity Redefined: The Power of Doing Nothing

Autumn

Joint custody has given me tons and tons of free time that I never had before, yet for months I felt crushing guilt when I ended up spending it on unproductive activities. Even my sunset hikes left me feeling selfish and lazy, yet I would listen to others talking about their leisure activities with a sense of jealousy. Why wasn’t I allowed to just enjoy myself? The problem, though, was that the more guilt I felt about being unproductive, the less I wanted to do anything.

It’s taken me a long time, but I’ve come to internalize the idea that I don’t have to be useful, or excelling, or justifying my existence. I’m allowed to simply exist.

The more at peace I’ve become with doing nothing, the more motivated I’ve been to do something.

I also seem to have turned a corner with my mental capabilities, because I’ve started researching and writing outlines once again … weird, right? 😅Heck, I was even able to remember something I wrote about two years ago, and I practically wept with relief at feeling like I have a brain again.

When you think about it, how do we decide what’s productive and what isn’t? Particularly in today’s society, where someone’s play can cross the threshold into a career, but that unpaid foundation is essential for building a platform? If we always pressure ourselves to be productive, then we limit our own potential. And with a limited potential, well … it’s harder to feel motivated to do anything.

My own personal story has been deeply tied to trauma, and I stopped being able to write when my body switched to survival mode — one of these days I’ll probably share more of the gory details rather than these vague hints, but the timing still doesn’t feel right. Suffice to say, in survival mode it’s easy to feel like everything depends on being able to work hard enough to get through, but that also leads to burnout. It kills creativity.

And creative is what I want to be.

When I listen to music, I feel emotions. I take those emotions and write them into a story with characters. If I am to make a career out of being an author, then I cannot feel guilty for taking the time to listen deeply to music. Productivity isn’t purely defined by word counts.

I am damaged. I do not say that with sadness nor do I seek any amount of pity for it — it is a fact that I accept. I am not going to move forward to have a normal life like everyone else. I’m probably going to spend the next umpteen years writing about the same type of villain over and over again. “Oh look, another sadistic narcissist from Autumn Rain. Wow. What a surprise. Did not see that coming. Ha ha.” It’s a good thing that us humans love predictability more than we admit. 😉

Anyway, the biggest factor is that I’ve lost all interest in a normal life. I don’t want to date, remarry, whatever. I don’t feel lonely. I really enjoy being single, and I think that I would have reached this place on my own if it hadn’t been for the intense social pressure to partner up when I was young. I played Pictionary against myself at midnight and laughed my head off while doing it. I am clearly … cray-cray. 😆But, in more seriousness, it makes sense that not all of us are built for romantic relationships. I enjoy interacting with others much more when I’m allowed to say goodbye and go home to my space to be alone.

I’m not even getting into my anxiety of some future someone deciding it’s their right to punish me for failing to be their perfect waifu. Sure, you can tell me to go to therapy and get over it, but again I don’t want to. Why put all that time and energy into healing something that I have no intention of acting on anyway? I spend my nights longing for a career as a writer, not some person in bed beside me.

Society tells us to be so many things, and it’s difficult to sort out which ones don’t actually fit. It’s hard to explain how I feel these days, thriving as a single mom after all that hoopla about the Loneliness Epidemic. I genuinely do not crave close relationships right now.

Because you know what? Being alone isn’t lonely — being ignored is.

About Me

Why Being ‘Nice’ Can Be Exhausting

Autumn

I was listening to YouTube Radio when a song came on in which a male singer was expressing how his partner made him feel safe. I started thinking about how, for as long as I can remember, I believed that my desirability was tied with how I made other people feel — I had to be reassuring, uncomplicated, safe.

Then I started wondering what sort of person I would be if I stopped doing all that. If I gave up on being “desirable” and started being me.

Maybe I’d be more blunt. Maybe I’d tell more jokes without worrying about whether or not the other person would understand them. Maybe I’d geek out about anime more openly.

Most of all though, I’d be free to pursue the life that I wanted.

Not the non-threatening life that I’ve been living — a life with big ambitions. I wouldn’t constantly scan for other people’s discomfort and I wouldn’t feel guilty for not being more. Giving up on my “desirability” would be a huge relief. No more, “I’m a great cook.” No more, “I work hard.” No more, “I’ll shower you with compliments.”

I prefer to microwave frozen dinners because of how much time they save. I like to lie on the floor and binge watch TV. And secretly I don’t respect people over the age of 20 who need non-stop coddling or they have a meltdown.

Like, dude, I deeply resented you for demanding praise every time you skipped a stone. I wanted to keep an eye on the children and enjoy my time in nature, not tell you “great job” for throwing rocks into water.

Something that I suspect happens is that when you have the social reputation of being “nice”, people become brutal in their expectations of you. Be nicer. Be more understanding. Be more patient. Let others burn you out and use you up. Don’t have emotional moments. Don’t burden others. Keep your secret thoughts deeply hidden. Then pretend like you don’t notice everyone accusing you of being inauthentic for being too nice.

Yikes.

Clearly “nice” isn’t being reciprocated and they aren’t looking out for your well-being. Is being “desirable” to people who treat you like that really worth it?

I wash my hands of all of that. I don’t care if anyone wants me. Consider me undesirable. I live for me now.

About Me

Finding My Voice: Writing from a New Perspective

Autumn

I’m a little surprised at how much of a stumbling block my little laptop “unidentified network” malfunction is for me. I keep thinking that I should reinstall Windows, but the fact that I’m not the most computer savvy is making me pause. Also, we just had Christmas, and that’s a good excuse to not try anything new.

I have a desktop computer that works fine, but something about sitting at a desk is more than I want to bother with.

So, essentially, I haven’t been blogging because I simply couldn’t be bothered to get out of my recliner.

Writing wise, I’ve decided not to use anything that I’ve written for Runemaster over the past two months, and instead I will rewrite it from Malachi’s perspective. It was too slow paced and awkward — too reflective of a life turned upside down and a mind turned inside out. It will be easier for me to write in the steady voice of the mentor.

Malachi isn’t just any old character. He’s existed for 20 years now and has had countless adventures written about him. He might just be the source of wisdom that I need.

It’s hard to keep momentum going with joint custody. The routines between days with and without the kids are so different that I haven’t yet found a good rhythm. I am sleeping much better than I have in years though, so it’s a matter of time.

I finally figured out how to change my HVAC filter; better late than never? I suppose that I won’t tell you how much time I spent staring at the furnace, trying to will it into giving up its secrets… in my defense, I didn’t have the slightest clue what I was looking for until I finally found it. And it was camouflaged. Then had an old water heater placed in front of it. It was not easy. 😅

I think that I can handle independence well enough.

It feels good.

About Me

Overcoming Anxiety: My Journey to Healing

Autumn

It’s difficult to start.

I was so stressed out that I was vomiting and I ended up losing 20lbs in two months. I also spent a month in crisis counseling.

I also learned how to reach out and open up, to tell the people around me about what was going on. I discovered that people are a lot more supportive than I expected … and that the truth of my situation was a lot more visible than I had been led to believe.

And now here I am, in a better place. Quite literally, too. I have a great view of the sunset from my new home, and I’m in walking distance of nature — I like to take my dog out and have small chats with strangers.

I also still have anxiety when my doorbell sensor goes off. The occasional bad dream. Triggers that lead to quiet meltdowns … in a nutshell, PTSD.

Not exactly the life I dreamed of. I keep going round and round in my head, asking, “Can one person really cause this much damage?” It seems so unbelievable, that a person can hurt someone this much without it being a crime. Yet it happened. I know it every time I step on the scale and see how much weight I have yet to gain back.

The far more important question now is, “Where do I go from here?”

I often wonder if my fantasy life — the way I imagine myself getting up and spending the days if everything was perfect — is achievable or not. I have a clean house now, with white walls. Day-to-day life is running more smoothly than it has in a long, long time, and my thoughts are feeling more alive than they have in years. So maybe, just maybe, I can achieve my dreams.

I’m definitely not getting bombarded with criticism and demands the way I was not too long ago.

Let’s work on baby steps.

I want to be a writer. I’ve always wanted to be a writer. So let’s write. Casual. Small. No pressure sort of writing. Free writes. Story snippets. Totally random stuff that has nothing to do with anything.

Then one day, I’ll pick my bigger projects back up and start self-publishing novels again.

You ready?

I’m not sure if I am.

But I can’t spend my life always waiting for the next crisis to hit. I want to take charge and make my dreams come true.

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

Sanity

Autumn

Writing keeps me sane.

My usual tradition is to read a book after finishing a first draft, before beginning on the second. This time, circumstances aren’t quite usual.

In one sense, I’m barely aware of the world. Truth is, ten years ago I saw too much, and turned my back on society in disgust. I don’t like being a negative person, but there’s really no other way for me to describe why I live like a hermit in the middle of suburbia. Heck, we even tried going off grid several years ago, but that proved to be too difficult with the resources we had.

And yet, there’s a great deal that even I can’t hide from. I feel it every time I see a face mask littering the sidewalk. I know it’s out there, lurking just outside our fence line.

It’s seemingly taken away my ability to focus on reading. I can do everything else, but whenever I sit down with a book, I can’t follow what’s happening on the pages or remember who’s who. I can only finish short novellas if I read them out loud to my children (We’re currently reading The Fairy Rebel). I end up doing some sort of fiddly craft with my hands instead.

I can’t follow my usual ritual this time around. When I don’t spend my evenings re-centering my balance and exploring my fictional world, the noise from the children during the day gets inside my head too much.

So it looks like I’ll be plowing through the second draft of Alice and the Warden without “cleansing my mental palate” first. I have to work with what I’ve got.