Tag: writing

Two ice cream sundaes on a café table beside a rainy window
Of Ice and Flowers

Of Ice and Flowers chapter 2

Autumn
Romantic book cover titled “Ice Cream and Bad Decisions,” showing a young couple sharing ice cream while the woman reads a note with a phone number.

“Hang on, let me check my phone,” Iris laughed as she playfully pushed against Justin, then she reached into her purse. She frowned when her hand closed around a napkin along with her phone, and she became absorbed in it as she stared down at the numbers written on it.

“What’s that?” Justin asked, peering curiously.

“It’s a girl’s phone number,” Iris replied, bewildered. She had wanted to forget that moment in the coffee shop, and had gotten close to achieving it, too. But now that she was looking at a reminder of her meeting with Lotus, she wondered why.

“Ooo, I didn’t know you swung that way,” he teased, ruffling Iris’s hair. “Is she hot?”

Iris batted his hand away. “She’s insanely hot, Justin,” she replied sarcastically. “A real femme fatale, who has a penchant for chai at your favorite cafe. That’s where I met her.”

“See? I told you that you needed to check that place out.” Justin laughed. “Are you going to call her? She sounds like someone I want to meet.”

“I don’t know …” Iris bit her lip. “I mean, honestly, if I did swing that way then I’d be all over her, but …” She shrugged. “It didn’t seem like she was interested in me like that anyway.”

“She wrote her phone number on a napkin for you, Iris. If that doesn’t scream of a desperate bid for attention, then I don’t know what would. At least call her once. Use my phone if you’re worried about safety.” Justin reached into his pocket. “Do it for me? Pretty please? I’d love to see you settled before I graduate.”

Iris gave him a shove. “I’m waiting for the right person, Justin. Lay off, okay?”

“Okay, okay!” Justin held his hands up. “But I have to tell you … Lacie doesn’t like that I hang out with you. She thinks I’m cheating.”

“I keep telling you to break up with her,” Iris muttered, trembling as she unlocked her phone.

“I think about it,” Justin replied more solemnly. “Hell, I’m avoiding her right now. Tell you what, if napkin girl isn’t crazy and if she isn’t a lesbian, then I’ll take her. I’ll dump Lacie and napkin girl will be my responsibility.” He winked.

“You’re terrible!” Iris rolled her eyes, then held out her phone and the napkin. “Can you tell me if I entered the number in correctly? I’m ridiculously nervous right now.”

“Yup!” Justin hit the dial button, then grinned as he handed the phone back to Iris.

Iris’s eyes went wide and she held her phone up to her ear, turning away. She held her breath as she listened to it ring.

“Hello?”

Iris wasn’t sure if she recognized the voice. “Uh, hi! Is this Lotus?”

“Speaking,” the voice replied. “Is this Iris then?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Iris.” She forced a tight laugh. “So, um, I’m here with Justin, and he said that he wants to meet you. Are you available to hang out sometime?”

“I’m available right now. We could meet for ice cream.”

Iris turned to look at Justin. “Do you want to meet her for ice cream?”

“Duh yes!”

“Yeah, we can go for ice cream right now. I guess there’s that place across the street from the cafe. We can get there in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll meet you there. Oh, and Iris … thank you for calling. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Yeah.” Iris hung up, then realized that her hands were shaking. She put her phone away in her purse, then balled them into fists to keep them steady. “Well Justin, you’re getting your wish. Are you happy?”

“Ecstatic.” He put his arm around Iris’s shoulders. “I’m envisioning a future of cake batter flavored ice cream for myself. What about you? Peanut butter fudge again? You’re paying, right?”

Iris shook her head. “You wanted to meet Lotus, so you’re paying. Fair’s fair!” she stuck her tongue out, then laughed nervously as she dug through her purse for her car keys.

Image generated using AI, words 100% mine.

Steaming coffee cup beside a frosted window with a purple lotus
Of Ice and Flowers

Of Ice and Flowers chapter 1

Autumn
A woman in a purple dress with floral patterns sits at a café, holding a drink, while another woman in a white blouse stands nearby. The background features elegant decor and greenery, with the title 'Of Ice and Flowers' displayed prominently.

Lotus pursed her lips around the end of her straw and took a sip, her eyes fixed intently on the back of a young woman who was staring up at the menu board of the cafe. Lotus set her iced chai down, and unconsciously gripped the hem of her skirt around her thighs. For a second she closed her eyes.

I found her, Shangri-la!

The woman’s cheery voice began her order, and Lotus wondered how she was going to approach her. Part of her wanted to be blunt, but a sense in the back of her mind said that she shouldn’t approach a stranger cold with an offer like, “Would you like to transform into an animal?” However, time was running short as the barista turned to prepare the coffee, and Lotus had to do something to gain her attention …

The cafe door opened and a breeze rushed inside, billowing through Lotus’s long auburn hair with an unusual warmth then passing on to tickle the back of the woman’s neck. She stiffened, then turned. Their eyes met, and Lotus smiled.

Thank you, Shangri-la.

The woman paused, then turned to accept her coffee from the barista. She stood hesitating for a moment, then walked over to Lotus’s table. “Uh, hi,” she said with forced cheerfulness that didn’t cover for the awkwardness underneath. “Have I seen you around campus? You look familiar.”

“Probably not.” Lotus rested her chin on her palm. “But I agree, something about you seems familiar. Maybe we’ve passed by each other here before.”

“This is actually my first time here.” The woman raised her cup slightly. “Justin swore it was worth it, so here I am!” Her voice finished on a tight high-pitched note.

“Then maybe it’s fate.” Lotus laughed slightly, but her eyes were carefully studying the woman’s reaction. “My favorite is the chai, both hot and cold. Next time, you should try that.”

“Thank you, I think I will.” The woman’s cheeks were starting to turn red, and Lotus could sense that she was preparing to disengage as her weight shifted backward.

“Do you go to the college then?” Lotus asked. “I want to enroll next semester, but I’m not exactly a brave sort and I don’t know anyone around here. It would be nice to start with one friend.”

“Oh, yeah.” The woman reached down into her purse to pull out her phone, and she stared at the screen without touching it. “I’m sure that Justin and I could give you a tour of the campus. I remember how much the small things help.”

“I would deeply appreciate that.” Lotus reached into her own purse and pulled out a pen, then plucked a napkin out of the dispenser on the table. “Here’s my phone number,” she said as she wrote it on the napkin. “Is Justin your boyfriend?”

“Oh, no. No. We’re not …” the woman shook her head and trailed off. “I’m sorry, but I do need to get going.”

“I shouldn’t keep you.” Lotus held out the napkin. “My name is Lotus, by the way. It’s been very nice to meet you.”

“I’m Iris.” She hesitantly took the napkin. “It’s been nice to meet you, too. I hope that you have a nice day.”

“See you, Iris,” Lotus said with a smile, then turned back to sip at her drink. Iris stuffed the napkin into her purse with her phone, then hurried out of the cafe, awkwardly bumping into the door as she did so.

It’s definitely her, Shangri-la. I found your key.

Author’s disclaimer: Artwork was generated with AI then edited in Canva by me. Words are 100% mine.

Cozy artist workspace with an open door to a glowing moonlit forest
About Me

Reclaiming My Bag, My Time, and My Voice After Marriage

Autumn

There was a moment of realization that happened recently. My bag that I carry with me everywhere — that through the years has contained emergency pull-ups, diaper wipes, band-aids, and various other-people miscellaneous — now carries my headphones and my Kindle.

My stuff.

Mine.

What in the world? Did I stumble into an alternate dimension?

Heck, even the bottle of sunscreen is more for me than anyone else, because I never know when I’ll be caught in the sun and I burn easily. Have I really reclaimed my life?

So I’ve been reading A Court of Thorns and Roses. In my middle-aged perspective, I find myself thinking that it depicts sexual coercion more than anything genuinely romantic (so far, since I’m 50% through the first book). Between the spells that force people to have sex, and assaults that leave bruises (complete with a “It’s all your fault that I did that to you” afterwards), I’m not seeing much that I would consider “healthy relationships” going on. Then when Tamlin said, “I’ve had many lovers, but none of them understood me,” I snerked and thought, Oh no, he’s that guy. 😆

And that’s why I’m not the heroine of a romance novel. Because Mr. “I’m so misunderstood” can go take his wounded self and whine about it somewhere else. I have a microwave dinner to eat and a bag that I’ve finally reclaimed as my own, so please keep your issues to yourself and don’t burden me. I’m not carrying around your glasses wipes and acetaminophen in my bag anymore! Maybe the real problem is that people do understand you and they don’t like what they see. Ever consider that? Sheesh.

But I don’t blame women for writing and reading that sort of stuff. Honestly … I wrote stuff when I was married that I wouldn’t write now. And today I started writing a story that I would have never been able to write when I was married. That got me thinking about the subtle ways that a writer’s immediate social circle could influence what they write, particularly with heterosexual relationships. I think the question of “What women want” is difficult to separate from, “What women think they should want,” and “What women think men think they should want.” With a fawn response thrown in for good measure. It’s kind of a mess.

A series of quotes expressing concerns about writing female characters and perceptions of male expectations in literature.

I want to make it clear that I actually do really like ACOTAR. I’m not overcome with enjoying the sex stuff, but the dark scenes are delightfully dark. Romance novels tend to have a surprising amount of gore and murder in them. 😆

Last week I dusted off my old flashdrive and read some of the stories that I’ve written, going clear back to 2003. You know what conclusion I ultimately came to?

I liked my writing style better before I got married.

I remember being told over and over that I needed to drop the dreamlike poetic prose because my communication style was too blunt and terse for that to truly be the way I thought. Yet … It actually is the way that I think. I like painting stories as expressions of emotion and atmosphere, not as a technical explanation of events. What I don’t like are heavy visual descriptions, but a metaphor that sends chills down the spine is irresistibly delicious.

And isn’t that what storytelling is supposed to do? Inspire emotion?

Enchanted multi-level library with spiral stairs, stained glass, bookshelves, and fireplace
About Me

Minecraft, ACOTAR, and the Invisible Load of Modern Motherhood

Autumn

I have finally gotten myself a library card.

For years I imagined the horrors of trying to keep library books around small rambunctious children, and decided that it was a stress that I didn’t need. However, over the last year I’ve started hearing more about how libraries have expanded out from traditional book-borrowing, and a few days ago my soul-sister told me about Libby.

My soul-sister then informed me that if I didn’t read A Court of Thorns and Roses, she would blackmail me by releasing my old roleplay from 2007 (total fabrication, such a threat never occurred😂).

So, I popped into the library on my way to Walmart to buy Minecraft (a story there), and I exited with a sparkly new library card in hand. Once home, I downloaded Libby, requested A Court of Thorns and Roses, and sent the book to my Kindle. Hurrah, I am literate! There’s a whole new world at my fingertips, just waiting for me to explore it! And the kids can’t rip any pages!

Then 24 hours later it dawned on me that I have only 2 weeks to read this book. Trivial. I read The House of My Mother in about three days, including when I had kids to care for. And yet I still have deadline anxiety.

The problem with coming from a “trad wife” background (which thus far I haven’t heard anyone acknowledge), is that now I struggle with feeling like mom is allowed to look at something other than family and chores. The shaming didn’t just come from my immediate surroundings, but also from every internet post criticizing women for looking at their phones. Do I stare dutifully at my children on the playground, or do I allow myself to read? Guilt free? I can’t finish reading a book in two weeks if I’m stuck staring at children all the time.

Besides, you and I both know that I’m not reading ACOTAR as a mom. I’m reading it as a woman — a woman who is sharing in a bond with other women through common fiction. A woman who is allowed to have friendships with other women.

So ACOTAR starts with the stereotypical thing of the main character being the strong one holding everyone together, while everyone else consumes resources and pitches in nothing. At first I thought that it seemed like a Mary-Sue depiction, establishing that the main character is “not like other women” by portraying other women as inept and spoiled. Then it hit me that what readers were connecting with wasn’t the “not like other women” trope, but instead the feeling of holding the entire damn world together without any help.

That I can relate to.

Oh boy can I relate to that.

Which brings us to my Minecraft story.

I’m sure that everyone knows that Minecraft is basically a staple of childhood. Heck, my kids have had school courses that were heavily integrated with Minecraft, because Minecraft is where it’s at. Modern childhood includes flooding villages with a bucket of water (or lava) and blowing up so much TNT that the computer can’t render the explosion. C’est la vie. But thus far, my kids have all been sharing one account for Minecraft.

Lately my kids have discovered the modding community. They have also discovered Minecraft creepypasta. And they melted my heart when they told me that they wanted to play the creepypasta mods on multiplayer together. I vowed that I would make their dreams come true.

Which ended up being kind of a mistake.

First I created their own Microsoft accounts, which was straightforward. Then I attempted to purchase Minecraft on one of their accounts. It showed up on my credit card, but I received no confirmation email and it wasn’t on the account. I navigated the Microsoft website, which was a labyrinth of links and “self help articles”, until I finally found the “chat with a human” option. I was informed that the purchase was stuck in “payment pending” limbo.

We waited. The kids (disappointed) went to dad’s house for his custody time. I continued waiting, checking everywhere I could think of to see if the payment cleared. Then, after three days, I saw that the purchase had been refunded on my credit card. Payment pending failed.

I tried to purchase Minecraft again. This time I got a message right off the bat about not being able to process the payment. I tried putting money on the kid’s account to buy it directly, and again got the same “unable to process payment” error. Tried a different card. Tried a different browser. Headdesk headdesk headdesk. OMFG Microsoft! Just take my money!

I consulted ChatGPT, who suggested that I buy a copy of the game from Walmart then activate it on my child’s account.

So I stood in line at Walmart, clutching a little piece of cardboard with a picture of Minecraft and a $30 price tag, feeling a bit ridiculous for it. Video games have been a purely digital transaction for years now, yet there I was going old-school-but-not-really. I was so anxious that something else would go wrong, and then I’d be stuck trying to get a refund from Walmart.

I was scared to try activating Minecraft right away, so I did other stuff for awhile like exploring Libby. Once I worked up my courage, I sat down and entered the activation code. I probably didn’t breathe until I had confirmation that it had worked.

Aaaaand that was when I realized that Xbox defaulted the child’s account to block all forms of multiplayer, including LAN. I had not expected that … considering that LAN stands for “Local Area Network” which entails existing in the same house using the same wifi so why would it be blocked?

Seriously, you have no idea how hard it is to find the parental control menus. Between Microsoft, Minecraft, and Xbox, I didn’t know which site I needed to be looking under (Xbox, for you other parents out there). Click click click, ask ChatGPT, ask Google. Go crazy. Finally find the settings, check “Allow multiplayer,” and pull up the Minecraft game again. Still blocked. Close game and launcher to see if that needed to be refreshed. Still blocked. Start a single player game on child’s Minecraft, open to LAN, join using my account. Works. Open Bedrock and discover multiplayer works there. Java multiplayer still blocked. Die a little inside and decide to give up for the day.

My dear sweet precious children, you have no idea. You are going to come home and take it for granted that you can now play Minecraft creepypasta mods together, and no one is going to say, “Thanks for scaling that stupid mountain and sacrificing your soul to the Minecraft Gods for us, mom.” Of course that’s what mom did, because that’s what moms do. The kids have no one else who would do that for them.

So yes, ACOTAR, I am carrying the world on my shoulders in my metaphorical winter. Thank you for validating that.

The cherry on top is that I still need to buy one more copy of Minecraft — all of that had been my test run to make sure that I knew what I was doing. At least this time … I know what I’m doing. Sort of. I don’t remember creating the child’s Xbox account. 😅

Anyway, after I finish the ACOTAR series, my soul-sister has a huge list of books for me to read. And I admit that, for whatever reason, having a library card feels insanely liberating.

Person with backpack standing at a forked forest path at dusk
About Me, About Writing

When Your Worldview Shifts and You Can’t Write Fiction Anymore

Autumn

Everyone lives by a personal philosophy.

Some people believe that the world is getting worse, while others believe that it’s getting better. Some believe that people are inherently good, while others believe that they’re inherently bad.

Now that I’m 38, I’ve learned to cast a suspicious eye on those who believe that people are inherently bad. Personally, I don’t come home from the grocery store and think, “Ugh, humanity is awful.” Most people want to mind their own business and buy their pumpkin spice muffins in peace. Most people respond to positivity with positivity. Most people will smile when you make a crack about having to decide what kind of barbecue sauce you’re in the mood for. I’ve come to the conclusion that you definitely get back what you put out.

The caveat, of course, is that I’ve also learned that some people are just plain bad. They are selfish, mean, exploitative, and manipulative, and you absolutely cannot love them into being better. It’s important to learn discernment and recognize the red flags.

The reason why writing fiction is currently so hard for me is because my foundational philosophy was tossed upside down and I’ve been rebuilding it from scratch. What I wrote about above is something that I’ve been painstakingly piecing together over the last two years. Before, I was heavily indoctrinated with “people are generally bad,” and I had no clue how many of my negative social experiences were actually influenced by just one person. Remove that one person, and suddenly my social world is completely different.

Fiction relies heavily on personal philosophy. The question of what happens next and why is completely dependent on what the writer believes. So when my world was turned inside out, I lost the ability to decide what happens next.

It wasn’t just the question of people being good or bad. I no longer believe that marriage is sacred or that love is worth fighting for — people really shouldn’t be claiming ownership of other people, anyway. Someone can spend years proclaiming their undying devotion, then wake up one day and tell you that you’re too boring for them to tolerate so they’re filing for a divorce. And then what? You spent years holding fast to love and marriage only to have it casually tossed aside by the other person. So don’t feel obligated to hang on just because love songs sound pretty. You are not property, and you are allowed to leave situations that have you feeling drained, depressed, and powerless, no matter what the other person says about their emotions.

As a side note, I want to make it clear that I’m not in the “just leave” camp. I know perfectly well that leaving is a complicated and potentially dangerous course of action, post-separation abuse is real and oftentimes worse, and I do wish that society was more supportive of people who stay. Staying does not mean that the person condones their relationship.

I still haven’t figured out how people are supposed to interact and relate to each other. I like the idea of separate individuals coexisting in a shared sphere, but then everyone else is always talking about “needs” and I still haven’t wrapped my mind around that. Personally, my “needs” vanished when I no longer had the source of stress creating the vulnerabilities and emotional wounds. So I dunno. What is it that I’m supposed to be needing? Because apparently things like “personal space” and “autonomy” aren’t it.

I also take umbrage over the idea of someone approaching me and saying, “Hey, I like the way you look. Devote your life to my NEEDS.” Uh, no. I don’t want to.

That means that I don’t know how characters are supposed to interact with each other.

I keep asking myself, “What attracts people to each other?” as we have learned to cast a wary eye on qualities like “vulnerability”, “dependence”, or “compliance”. We won’t be doing any “she softened his cold heart” crap in the future, that’s for sure. Basically everything that I was told about what men want and how women are supposed to be since 2009 is right out the window. Goodbye and good riddance. That ain’t my circus anymore.

So lets subtract lovebombing, emotional wounds, patriarchal programming, and ask … what attracts people to each other?

🤷‍♀️

Beats me.

Hence why I can’t seem to write a novel about people meeting and choosing to interact with each other for longer than five minutes. While it’s one thing to have a number of pleasant acquaintances, close relationships are an entirely different beast.

Worn living room with a flickering television, armchair, and eerie wall shadows
About Me

Understanding Esoteric Narcissism and Its Effects

Autumn
A list of psychological manipulation tactics, including pathologizing ordinary behavior, turning disagreement into deficiency, claiming specialness through suffering, creating restrictive rules, asymmetric interpretation of evidence, and building unfalsifiable frameworks.

I confess that I’ve developed a morbid fascination with the Franke/Hildebrant story, as well as other cult leader types, because they remind me of my own personal story.

When I first started hearing the word “narcissist,” my immediate reaction was, Him? But he doesn’t even wear deodorant! Absolutely nothing about him is charismatic or materialistic. He has changed into someone that I am embarrassed to be around.

But the word “narcissist” was said repeatedly across people who didn’t know each other, including an AI when I was venting about something that had upset me.

It was said a lot.

So I started watching Dr Ramani on YouTube, and learned that the grandiose narcissist isn’t the only type. Oh.

I remember the first time I recognized it when he slammed me with DARVO, and I was blown away how it wasn’t secretly buried in a five minute speech — it was three sentences: “That’s not true. It’s your fault. You’re always making things difficult for me.” That was the moment I realized what I was dealing with.

Well anyway, let’s get back to the Hildebrant connection.

He started calling everything an addiction. If the kids wanted to watch a kid show, they were “screen zombies,” and he even accused a three-year-old of having “a severe screen addiction” with zero professional evaluation. Seemingly, he had decided that normal toddler tantrums were evidence of addiction, not an inevitable stage of development.

I liked turning on the TV for background noise? Addiction. Obviously.

I took to chatting with AI because I literally had no other outlets for emotional expression and he was carefully monitoring everywhere I went and everyone I spoke to? Addiction. Plus AI psychosis.

The 12-year-old beat him in Smash Brothers with Rosalina? She was too addicted to that character and was banned from playing with her.

Essentially, anyone attempting to develop an interest that didn’t revolve around him (or outshone him) was accused of addiction. The only way to not be an addict was to sit around doing nothing and waiting for him to walk into the room. Then you were merely lazy.

So lately I’ve been pondering the existence of “esoteric narcissism”, or as I joked, “Why be ordinary special when you can be esoterically special?”

This is the idea that someone has unique spiritual knowledge, powers, and authority, ie Hildebrant. The damage they inflict on others comes from, “Your disagreement with me is proof that you are distorted/NPC/whatever,” as the terminology itself doesn’t really matter. The important part is, these people have clearly defined “enlightened” and “inferior” boxes that they put everyone else into. Personally I heard “NPC” a lot (combined with the philosophy that people who were NPCs didn’t have souls), and I remember the day he looked at me with contempt and declared the worst insult in his world, “You are an NPC.”

I know, people are sitting there asking, “How could you put up with that?” because it’s easy to sit on the outside and think, “As an outsider, I would have seen right through it and fled as quickly as possible.” To which I point out that they have the benefit of seeing the entire story, which you don’t have when you’re inside it.

It comes on gradually. He didn’t use the term ‘NPC’ when I met him — I don’t remember him using it prior to 2020. It started as the standard, “Ugh, people are frustrating,” in response to news stories about the darker side of humanity. Years passed by, we survived hardships, and he became more openly cynical. Conversely, what seemed to start off as ordinary spirituality started taking on more and more weight.

There was one time when we were watching a lunar eclipse, when he started spinning in circles and said that he was spiritually bound to do it to make the eclipse happen. It was so over-the-top that I blurted out something about schizophrenia, to which he replied with disgust, “You don’t understand me at all.”

Meanwhile, I was exhausted. I was sleep deprived. My body was flooded with cortisol. I was getting migraines. He would increase the number of criticisms and arguments that he subjected me to whenever I started taking steps towards any sort of independence, and in retrospect it was amazing how he could pull an argument out of thin air without me doing anything.

My refusal to blindly accept everything resulted in frequent accusations of being “self righteous.”

He had successfully driven away everyone so I was isolated. I didn’t have friends and neighbors to reassure me, “You aren’t self righteous,” because it turned out that he was trash-talking me behind my back. All I knew was that trying to socialize was inexplicably weird and I was frequently ghosted. I found out much later that most people didn’t believe what he said about me, but they were also scared of getting involved because he gave off vibes of, “I’ll burn your house down.” Mind you, no direct threats just vibes, but it was enough to keep people away.

There was one time, after hearing several times from different acquaintances, “That guy is so manipulative,” that I burst into tears and sobbed, “Why was I the last to see it?” That was the first time in a long time that I received a hug for crying.

And now I’ve developed a morbid fascination with Hildebrant because I see reminders of him in the documentaries, and I feel grateful that he never managed to expand his ideologies outside of himself. At least so far.

There was, however, one early warning flag that I didn’t recognize at the time.

When I first met him, he told me that his favorite book was The Last Unicorn, and that his favorite quote from the book was:

“You are losing my interest,” the rustling voice interrupted him again, “and that is very dangerous. In a moment I will have forgotten you quite entirely, and will never be able to remember just what I did with you. What I forget not only ceases to exist, but never really existed in the first place.”

I didn’t recognize it as a red flag because it was 2009, Dr House was a smash hit on TV, and everyone thought that being edgy was cool.

But now, now that I’ve spent two years dealing with him attempting to erase my existence, I realize that he embraced the quote wholeheartedly and turned it into a personal philosophy.

No one has the power to erase another person’s existence.

No matter what type of special they think they are.

Bowl of fruit and banana on a rustic kitchen table
About Me

The Struggles of Hygiene in Relationships: A Candid Story

Autumn

I started reading The House of My Mother by Shari Franke, which is very well written and I highly recommend. It’s interesting insight into the experience of growing up with your life being showcased online through family vlogging, as well as the events afterwards involving Ruby Franke and Jodi Hildebrant that are the real reason we’re reading the book (you know what I’m talking about).

I can’t help that in the back of my mind I wonder what it would be like if I wrote an autobiography about my personal experiences. Probably terrible, because I don’t remember much; like the majority of my adult life slipped into an empty black hole and all I can do is shrug it off. My most vivid memories seem almost … absurd.

For example:

Sometime after 2020, he decided to quit hygiene.

There wasn’t some grand announcement, just the gradual cessation of typical hygiene-related activities. He spent a lot of time with his computer while I was busy with the same soul-sucking chores every day, so I can’t say exactly when it happened.

My first related memory happened in late 2021, while I was pregnant with my youngest. I remember reaching into the hamper, pulling out his shirt, then fighting back gagging and nausea when the smell hit me. I thought I was going to lose it right into the hamper. Holy heck. You would have thought that I had accidentally grabbed a maggot infested rat carcass from how badly I reacted, but nope, it was a t-shirt that had spent too long on a human body.

Thus began my campaign to encourage hygiene without hurting his feelings.

I settled on the word “overripe”, phrased in a roundabout way like, “Hey, you’re kind of getting a little bit overripe, so maybe you should bathe and change your clothes?”

I suppose that I should add a little side note for context: years ago he decided to remodel the bathroom then never actually finished the job. That meant that the shower fixture was permanently left in a closet, and we could only take baths. So if you find yourself wondering why I never use the word “shower” when talking about the past, that’s why.

Anyway, my efforts resulted in nothing. For all I know, maybe he became even more resistant to hygiene because I was hinting that it was something I wanted. I.D.K.

He liked to sneak up on me to startle me while I was sewing, but I started being able to smell him approaching and thus he lost the element of surprise. I dreaded being in the car with him, and began putting the window down to gulp in the fresh air whenever possible, my face turned stubbornly away from him.

I became hyper-paranoid about my own body odor, and was constantly checking myself for smell. I was mortified over the possibility that I also stank. It seemed like the smell was so pervasive that I couldn’t tell where it was coming from anymore.

Eventually, I became less subtle. Eventually I became rather blunt about the fact that he stank bad and was repulsive.

His response?

If I truly loved him, then I would find his body odor arousing.

Alas, my heart was untrue. Q.E.D. 😂

And that was the state of him when I moved out. I couldn’t tell you if anything has changed since. Yes, I’m aware that in a storytelling sense that’s such a non-conclusion to the arc, but that’s how real life often goes. No closure.

It seems a little odd to me, that a situation that included the court ordering me to attend four months of classes for victims of domestic violence is now reduced down in my memory to … body odor?

I am at peace with my memory though. There was nothing famous about what I went through — I was and still am one of the thousands of faceless women who had to focus on survival far too much to build anything else. I don’t have the audience or clout for a tell-all book deal anyway, so I don’t need to remember the sensational details. Besides, going into it too deeply is still more than my nervous system can bear.

Woman journaling with coffee at a sunlit kitchen table
About Me

Finding Joy in Solitude: Why I Don’t Need a Relationship

Autumn

I walked into the dentist office for my appointment, and the receptionist commented, “You look so happy. Are you dating someone new?”

To which I exclaimed, “Oh my goodness NO!”

Then I revealed that the real reason for my happiness is that I can watch whatever shows I want without having to hear anyone else’s opinion about it, so my relaxation time is genuinely relaxing. Because, c’mon, when someone walks into a room and is all, “Oh, you’re watching that show again? You have an odd taste in TV,” it has a tendency to grate the nerves after awhile. I’m sorry, but I didn’t ask you to evaluate my preferences in entertainment, so please keep it to yourself and just let me exist in peace.

Or there was the other scenario, where they wanted to watch the show with me but then added constant commentary, like, “That character is being stupid.” Or pausing the show every 30 seconds to talk about something. My long-term takeaway is that I really hate watching TV with anyone who can’t shut their mouth. I’d list it as one of my top pet peeves, along with people chewing loudly, and ASMR videos that use that squishy squelchy poop noise because srsly what is up with that?

Lately I’ve been watching Arcane on Netflix, and I’m hooked. The idea of “hextech” is intriguing, the characters are complex and engaging, and the gorgeous eye candy animation certainly doesn’t hurt either. I’ve been finding the world of Arcane to be inspiring for my own creativity, giving me plenty to daydream about between episodes as well.

So …

I suppose that enough time has passed for the question of my dating again to become socially acceptable. To which the answer is still a solid no. I’m thinking that it’s a permanent no.

I have discovered that I like making decisions completely on my own. Quite a lot. I like my hairbrush having only my hair tangled in it. I like the way it feels to be with the kids when it’s just us. I like having solitude that I can count on every week. I like being the problem-solver of the household. Heck, I recently learned how to put air into my car tires to maintain the correct pressure, so I’m feeling pretty dang competent. 💪

Which means that whenever the question of “moving on” comes up, I will have to coyly sidestep it with a wink. Ah yes, relationships. I suppose maybe when I’m ready. Whenever Viktor from season 2 of Arcane materializes in real life with his staff and cloak. What can I say? A woman has to have her standards. 🤣

The answer to why I’m so happy isn’t that there’s a new person in my life — it’s that I’m finally in my own life.

Before, I was the sort that whenever I was asked, “Are you having a good time?” My answer was usually, “I don’t know. Is everyone else having a good time? I can’t have a good time if everyone else isn’t.” In retrospect, I was to exhausted from making sure that everyone else was happy, and justifying it by pointing out that everyone else was happy.

It’s weird, because I never saw myself as a “people pleaser” — people pleasers tried too hard, didn’t they? I was just trying to live up to being a good wife and mother, by being nurturing, patient, supportive, low-maintenance, and cool. It happened so gradually that it took me awhile to realize that it was not the life that I thought I had signed up for years ago — he had promised to support me being a writer, and instead he was demanding dinner. If I could take all those hours I spent on meal prep and clean up and put them into writing instead, I’d have myself an established career right now.

Anyway, my point is, no one was telling me, “Don’t be like that, you’re sacrificing yourself.” I was told over and over that I was a “good mom” and a “good wife,” when I should have been more of a bitch about making him share in the domestic work. Instead I got to learn that the man who had refused to lift a finger for me was cooking dinners for his new girlfriend, and I realized what a fool I was. My postmortem is that I was manipulated into becoming a people pleaser, not just by one person but by the culture at large that reinforced that it was something that I was supposed to do.

So here we are. I don’t need a relationship to be happy and I don’t need a man to be valid — I am my own person.

And that feels dang good.

Young person standing outside a cabin overlooking cloud-covered mountains
About Me

Overcoming Creative Block After a Toxic Relationship

Autumn

Over the last year, I’ve been internally more creative than my output would suggest. Which is basically a roundabout way of saying that I’ve been thinking a lot of things that never see the light of day.

I think that I’ve written about it before, but I really can’t be bothered to read back through my blog posts to find something to link to and all that jazz. Essentially, for a good long while I had someone position themselves as the Director of my creativity, and every project I pursued needed their stamp of approval. Then rather abruptly that person dumped me and is now living with a woman half his age. Go figure.

The thing is, people like that manipulate themselves into that sort of authority through the guise of teamwork — they aren’t gatekeeping you, they’re part of your dynamic duo. The editor to your writer. Literally. They constantly tell you that your creativity is messy without their guidance, and only they understand your vision well enough to push it towards something amazing.

Recognizing that something was wrong is easier than living without it. When it’s your own muscles that have to support the momentum after years of someone restricting their use, it’s hard. I’ve spent a lot of time wobbling, second-guessing, and feeling insecure.

I’ve written thousands of words for Runemaster that I quickly realized were rambling.

The thing is, my “director” wasn’t constantly cutting down long-winded passages because I had a tendency towards unfocused writing. My “directer” actually had very little input with Alice and the Warden for example, and I mostly remember him wanting me to put in more sex scenes. He said that he wanted to edit the story then never actually got around to it, and since I didn’t want to delay publishing because of him I did all the editing myself. “Dynamic duo” felt more like him taking credit for my work.

I keep asking myself why I’m so unfocused now when my functional thought process and workload hasn’t changed.

A year ago I sought a protective order against him, and was granted something softer for the long-term but effective enough (he continues to send me unpleasant texts that I’d rather not receive). I’m still realizing how different life is without him in it. I recently took the kids out for a day trip, and after packing the car and hitting the road, I found myself spending the first 30 minutes of driving wondering if I had forgotten something important because of how easy leaving had been. Why had my previous life been so hard in so many small ways?

Perhaps my writing is unfocused now because I’m having so many new experiences every day. My brain is constantly stopping to ask, “Wait, what? Is that really it?” I had grown so accustomed to someone throwing up roadblocks over every idea I had, that now it feels like something is missing without them.

It feels like standing in a doorway gazing out at the world and feeling overwhelmed with how big it is. What am I even looking at? Where should I go now that I’m free to go anywhere? Why is everything so dang easy? Life isn’t supposed to be easy, is it?

I also struggle to understand how someone can be the one to initiate a divorce then afterwards act like they still have a say over what you do in your life. Excuse me, but I will eat cancer-causing ultra processed food in microwaved plastic as much as I want, because I like it. Srsly, what did you expect would happen when you filed for a divorce? What makes you think that you have the right to punish me when you were the one who wanted this?

Unfortunately there’s a pressure to not talk about him, because talking about him means that I still think about him, and thinking about him proves that I’m not moving on. But I’m not sitting here thinking, “This was his favorite song,” “I miss him,” or anything remotely sentimental. I think about how much I hated following his principles and rules. I think about all the things I tolerated because I believed “that’s just how men are.” (Like using a ton dishes to cook something simple, then leaving the mess for me to clean up.)

I think about how being a trad wife was the biggest mistake of my life.

I still wonder how much of my mind was my own, versus how much was him utilizing chronic long-term sleep deprivation to insert thoughts into my head — and I believe that the sleep deprivation was deliberate too, because he interfered with my sleep as soon as I met him and he kept it going for years. I reached the point where I broke down crying because I just wanted to go to bed and sleep through the night without interruption.

Anyway, maybe this is too emotional. Maybe this is bleeding onto the page too much. I’m just so tired of feeling like I have to follow rules, and maybe it’s time that I engage in some oversharing. Maybe I’m dissatisfied with my writing because I feel like I have to follow all the rules of healing instead of just being raw with my words.

Because that’s the thing … there are parts of my life that hurt, but also parts that leave me ecstatically happy, and they’re both real. I would definitely describe myself as being much happier now, but that doesn’t mean that every day is full of energy and momentum. Sometimes the good moments teach me how much misery I was living with before, and it’s devastating. Sometimes I question why everything seems too good to be true now.

One thing is for absolute certain: I will never go back.

Grass trimmer and repair tools laid out on picnic table in garden at sunset
About Me

Raising Kids: Balancing Fun and Learning

Autumn

My dryer started making an odd noise, so I checked it and discovered that a screw had gotten wedged in the edge of the drum near the door. With two minutes and a pair of needle nose pliers, I fixed the problem myself. No hullabaloo. No performance of hardship. No consulting a committee. No fishing for praise afterwards. Just done like that. Done.

I was both proud of myself for identifying and solving the problem of the Weird Dryer Noise, and a little baffled that it was so simple.

Getting my weed eater put back together wasn’t quite as easy. I had my 8-year-old daughter help me with that one. My kids are learning the value of problem-solving and tenacity through example.

I realized that my kids have never had Happy Meals from McDonald’s in their lives, so I got some for them. They liked the toys, but declared the food to be generic fast food, and I told them, “That’s the point of getting McDonald’s.” So there, they’re getting a childhood full of normal experiences.

My kids and I have also finally dived into the world of Minecraft mods, particularly Create and Alex’s Mobs. I thought that my kids were making amazing things in vanilla Minecraft, but the Create mod has really taken their builds to the next level. Like holy cow. The creepers, on the other hand, still sneak up behind them and blow up their factories, so it’s still definitely Minecraft.

And the kids have been thoroughly delighted with Alex’s Mobs, especially with giving cockroaches maracas to make them dance. 😂

I am both sad and relieved that summer is going to be ending soon. I’m pretty certain that every day I’m with the kids I have been driving between pool parties, splash pads, parks, and Walmart. Apparently it’s infectious, because I’ve been going out a lot more on my child-free days as well despite complaining about how exhausting it is.

I’ve noticed that people are more open towards me now that I’m no longer doing the “trad wife” thing. Maybe the fact that I’m wearing pants makes them feel more comfortable, and less like they accidentally wandered into church. But as everyone likes to say, “correlation does not equal causation” and there’s also the giant fact that I’m no longer accompanied by a person who wears the expression of someone who stepped barefoot in fresh dog poop. All I know is that going out and socializing is considerably more satisfying than it used to be.

I was thinking recently about how all the cultural standards of what makes for a “loving dad” sound a lot more fun than the stereotypical “loving mom.” I’d much rather toss a ball, play games, and go on outings, than spend hours in the kitchen making homecooked meals and washing dishes — people really shouldn’t be linking homecooking with love anyway. Between you and me, I never got the feeling that the kids appreciated all the hours I spent in the kitchen anyway, and they would have been happier eating frozen chicken nuggets and getting more ‘mom time.’

In terms of my creativity, I’ve been wondering about where I should be posting the content that I’ve been working on. I’ve been very happy with how my hobbies have been going lately. Is anyone here interested? 😉