Updates.

Wow, I haven't posted in months! My plan today was to revert this blog back to my initial vision of a writing progress blog. However, as I looked back at previous posts (the yearly reviews which were flagged first to pull back into privacy), I realized by hiding them it would also hide an important piece of my writing process.

People write for different reasons. For me, it's helpful to keep my mental health in check. This is something I've never talked about to anyone really, but it's important to bring to the surface. I started my book in the summer of 2011. During college, I wrote 80% of my book. When I wrote, it was usually when I was the most stressed and needed to relax, or when I didn't feel like I could express my anger, or sadness, or excitement. For the most part, I spent college optimistic, with high hopes of what I could create with writing and with my RN degree. I finished my book on 3.14.16 @5am. All alone in my childhood bedroom, the morning I'd return to school from spring break, I felt like my hands couldn't get the story out fast enough. When I sat back and looked at my computer that held my childhood dream goal: writing a book to completion, I felt accomplished. I also began wondering what/how/when would this book truly be finished. Not for a second, did I think it would be almost 2019 and I'd still be working on my first book. I basically took a year off from looking at my book or writing in general; which was a big mistake. This let negative thoughts start consuming me. This year I haven't been motivated to go to work (but I did because bills have to get paid), or write, or socialize. I took three weeks off work in March to focus on editing my book. I edited one chapter. ONE. MEASLY. CHAPTER. in three weeks... But to be honest, for me when I'm not mentally well, I can't even motivate myself with my favorite hobby (writing because I'm a nerd). When I tried focusing, I started getting anxiety over how many pages I needed to edit. So, I took another few months off editing my book. I planned on editing a lot this summer, but I started getting numb to everything around me. I didn't get excited about much, I went through the motions at work, and to make extra money I began working more at a job that I no longer enjoyed.

In summary, when I don't write for a few days, all my goals come to a screeching halt. My motivation dips, my attitude worsens, and when I think about needing to write to reach deadlines anxiety rushes over me and the day passes without progress on anything. My life becomes a mess when I don't write.

So what's new? Why am I posting again if I'm this numb mess that isn't writing?
Because I'm better again.
Because I want to share that the process of writing a book is hard.
Because mental health is important to talk about.
Because I want you to know that no matter what your goal is, you can reach it too. We all face these up's and downs. 

• I started a writing group this summer with a friend so we both could keep focused on our writing goals. Each month I track if I met my goal or if I needed to work harder at focusing. I now have a writing schedule to keep myself editing/writing on days I do and don't work. I've edited over half my book now, with 40 pages I should be working on right now to meet this week's goal. 
• After spending the past 6 months getting myself back into editing my book regularly, my optimism finally clicked back on. YES. It can take 6 months or more for someone to be mentally ok again, and that's ok. I'm finally feeling like I did in college. Next weekend I'll attend my first writing conference where I'll have my manuscript reviewed. I'm excited and terrified and nervous all at once!
• After the conference, I'll be sending my book out to publishers again, as well as sending out query letters and cover letters. In addition, I plan to write 50,000 words in November towards a new book! November is National Novel Writing Month and there's a 30-day challenge for writers to write a 50,000-word novel.

Let's see how focused I can stay to my goal of 2,000 words/day while working full time!
https://nanowrimo.org

02.24.18

I've successfully avoided posting anything about this day for the past five years. It wasn't because I was avoiding it or forgot. Heavens, no. Even if I wanted to, I could never forget this day. I simply have been wishing it never happened. That maybe I could turn back the clock. Maybe I could live life more fully knowing not all who live get the opportunity to live long...

Ten years ago: February 24, 2008. Leap year. Two weeks and one day until my birthday. Two months since Christmas. One month since my cousin wanted another get together. Sunday... I woke up, relieved that the pains in my chest only hours earlier dissipated and I could breathe easily. It was my dad who opened my door, he hesitated. He looked lost for words so I filled in for him. "Are we going out for breakfast again?" He shook his head and told me there was an accident. My cousin was gone. My words left and I remember hugging my dad for a long minute. One thing I've always loved about my dad is our unspoken language.

I didn't want to believe it. As the morning progressed, I watched my parents make phone calls and my brother wouldn't look at anyone. He sat silently in a chair with his hand by his mouth. We all wondered why no one called us earlier. Then, we picked my grandma up and began the drive to the ranch. My dad finally called my sister to break the news. I heard her shriek through the phone, my dad's hand trembling as he tried to remain strong. It's like my senses were hyper-aware and I noticed every detail of that car ride. My mom didn't show much emotion, my dad wouldn't stop talking, my grandma kept wetting her eyes with drops, and my brother never moved his gaze from its fixation out the left passenger window. All the while I couldn't get my mind off one memory.

Christmas. 2007. Flip phones were in and I thought phones were stupid. All my cousins got new phones that year and Coy was fixated on telling me all about it. I made it obvious I didn't care. I gave him short replies and frequently switched my attention elsewhere. In short, I was being a royal bitch to him. That memory played on repeat in my mind while I continued to pick up on the behaviors in the car. We pulled over at the accident site. Now, my mind began forming images of how the accident could've happened as my eyes tracked the tire tracks in the ditch to the asphalt damage, to the shattered glass in the opposite ditch. There are things I cannot see that I wish I never saw or even thought of.

We stopped and grabbed carts of groceries before finishing the two-hour drive. The house was packed. My uncle pulled out my cousin's phone and pointed out the single scratch across the back before playing the voicemail recording. And then the most dreadful thing happened. One of my family members brought up my upcoming birthday asking me what I wanted. I'm sure it was to change the mood, but it only reminded me that one day I was going to age beyond my dead cousin. And today was supposed to be about him, not me. Then, I started adding in a fixation of dates: the last time I saw my cousin, the last time he wanted to see us, and how many days until my birthday.

In the afternoon, we left the house for the funeral home. It was a moment for the family to view the body. I wanted to see him to make myself finally understand that he was gone because I couldn't believe it. The gray, waxy appearance didn't look like him. I waited until the last possible moment with him to touch his leg. The coolness sent shivers through me, but I still denied his death within me.

That night I worked on homework as if nothing happened. After all, I had class the next day and didn't want to use my cousin's death as an excuse for getting behind. Plus, my mom told me to do my homework and I was a child who obeyed.

It didn't hit me until Monday morning, 02/25/08. Choir hadn't started yet and I finally realized the person who guided me in the family and always looked out for me was dead. The person I always counted on to take me out to ride the horses wasn't going to be there the next time I got on a horse. I cried in the bathroom until the teacher came to find out the horror I went through the day prior--and yet, no one really understood the depth of impact that rainy Sunday had on me. I was so upset that no one in my family asked me how I was doing in light of the terrible news. And yes, I did get selfish because I was also smart enough to know people don't think kids understand what's going on. But I knew. I knew that my best friend was gone and all that I could remember was the horrible last memory where I was unkind to the kindest person I knew.

For the next couple years, I fixated on dates. I knew how many months since he was gone, since the last memory, months to his birthday, and years left until I surpassed his age. It was overwhelming, but I was afraid if I didn't fixate on these little details that I would forget little pieces of him.

I also began writing more after his death. It became a coping mechanism. I wrote 17 pages in a book before I had to stop. What was supposed to help me be happy began drawing the demons back out from the February days.

I cried every night for over a year. Then, one night I asked him that if there was a God then they needed to stop me from ever shedding a tear over him. It was time to forgive myself for the memory, and time to focus on the happy memories. Death is just a part of living. I didn't cry again for probably a handful of years? My grandmother died and I felt like crying, but the tears never came. It felt fitting to not shed a tear for a woman who lost her ability to make tears.

I stopped posting about my cousin's death when I realized that was the only time I shared about him. I don't think it's fair to remember someone only on the day of their death.

The reason I've chosen today to post is simple. I've wanted to live a full life for my cousin and go forth being a better person. Some days I do well with this quest, others I fail epically. My point is, ten years have passed and while it feels like not much has changed, everything is different. I think of my cousin often, but this year on the anniversary I acted like it was a regular day and that scared me. It scares me that one day the day is going to pass and it won't bother me. I overthink and rethink a lot of aspects in my life, especially this day.

The memory of my cousin has fueled my writing for the past ten years, and I can only hope one day a student will stop mid-sentence and be curious about the message written between the lines. The message has and will always be a testament to how you, Coy, have influenced my life.

2017 IN REVIEW

For the past few years, I've written a yearly review of the ups and downs I've faced during the previous months, and my hopes I have for the next year. And quite truthfully, I've dreaded writing this post because I wasn't ready to be honest with myself. I refused to write it on New Year's Eve, and I managed to go all January trying to convince myself I didn't need to write it. The tradition was supposed to be cut off.

But that's not me. I cannot stop writing when I feel the need to bleed my struggles and achievements into words.

Writers write. The tradition continues. Also, don't judge my writing. This is a blog, not a book. I don't strive for perfection here.

January 2017

What a month. I studied 12 hours a day nearly every day just so I could find out on 1/30/17 my hard work paid off. The letters "BSN, RN" finally found their place behind my name and the next chapter of my life began. 

February

Each day I worked to sell, or donate, or throw my childhood away, knowing in just 10 short days I'd be moving 1700 miles with only the belongings that fit in my car. Days became split into cleaning, planning a baby shower for my sister, and spending time with my family. All too soon, I found myself starting the journey to the next chapter of my life. I didn't want to show it, but I was terrified. I'm terrible at committing to anything, and with the move, I didn't allow for any room to falter. Being the strong, independent woman I am, I knew I could handle each bump. No matter how terrified, lonely, or confused I felt, I made it my mission to conquer it with apparent flawless ease. No one could know that I was struggling... I stopped in Indiana for a long weekend with a great friend before arriving at my new state, North Carolina on February 13th. Immediately, there were problems I faced with my RN license. However, it smoothed out after minor panicking. I began my job on February 20th, and couldn't be more ecstatic. I loved work, my new state, and was hopeful this was just the start of a world of opportunity. 

March

Just as the initial honeymoon phase began to wear off, I got to move into my brand new apartment and restarted that happy go lucky phase. A friend visited for spring break just days after I moved, and I celebrated my first birthday far from friends or family. BUT let me make a correction. I had my friend from spring break by my side (truly a blessing) and a newfound realization that not all friends are truly equal. As the month continued, I began feeling very alone. When I moved, I thought I was moving to a place where I had two friends  +mutual friends, when in reality, they were barely more than cowards. One crouched behind his girlfriend who felt threatened by my presence. The other couldn't stand up for me or give me the time of day unless it was a convenience. Needless to say, I'm a highly emotional person (not necessarily around others) and found myself becoming very lonely and depressed. The thought of someone hating me who didn't even know me was heartbreaking. But even more so that I didn't even have one friend--whom might I add I used to be very close to--who would stand up for me. I became the dirt shoved under the rug. By the end of the month, I experienced my first death at work. It was a traumatic suicide. I had a lot of feelings about it. Now imagine going home to no one, nothing, and remembering you're all alone in a state that doesn't quite feel like home. I'm actually crying right now as I remember that day, the experience, and the lack of people I felt like I could talk to. I felt like a child, surrounded by strangers. To start feeling somewhat more normal, I went back to my natural hair color and gave myself a makeover.

April

April was hard. Beginning in March and through most of April, I'd find myself coming home from work, or the bar, or from seeing my new friends and collapsing in the bathroom in tears telling myself "I can't do this." It didn't matter how great of a day I was having. By the end of it, I was right back to the denial phase thinking I was making a huge mistake. My brother and dad came for a brief visit, and it was nice showing them my new city.

May

I barely remember May.  By now, I got over the crying stage and forced myself to edit my book. I spent a lot of time with my computer, but I also branched out more with friends and dating. I started laughing again - feeling like myself - but felt guarded with my friendships.

June

To the man at the UPS store, I sincerely apologize again for clicking print on my 330 page manuscript which caused your print job to pause...then create a paper jam...then break the printer. I sent my book off to its first publisher in June and went home to visit family. By the end of the month, my apartment was finally fully furnished and I could invite people over without explaining that I'm too poor to buy all my furniture at once. 

July

Ahh, the month I got the quick feedback that my book wasn't suitable for publishing. I expected this rejection, though, and didn't let it damper my psyche. By July 9th, I was off orientation at work and expected to take care of patients on my own. It was a great transition. 7/17/17 I made the best decision of my life and adopted a puppy from a rescue organization. His happiness is unyielding and he is the best part of my day. My sister's family came to visit at the end of the month and I loved seeing my nieces experience the ocean. 

August

I remember having a sick puppy keeping me from sleeping longer than 2 hour increments and the eclipse. Wow, lack of sleep definitely correlates with memory.  I visited my brother in Charleston for the eclipse experience at Folly Beach. I'm sure I drank a lot and went on a date or something, but really, nothing else stands out.

September - November

It all blurs together. In the fall I began adding pediatric patients to my skill base. I visited NYC and failed miserably with the subway. My puppy finally stopped being sick! Netflix got a ton of use out of me. Oh! I also reconnected with my 2nd grade teacher who's a published author. She gave me a ton of advice on how to revise my book, and it felt nice getting criticism I knew how to work with.

December
I pulled off a surprise visit home. After a 12 hour shift, I drove for 20 hours to Kansas City with my puppy. Due to an unnecessary fear of cars, my puppy needed benedryl to calm down long enough for me to actually get across the country. Then, after what felt like a nap, I drove 10 more hours home the next day for the surprise. It was awesome being home (I think my puppy is still depressed that I brought him back) and nice to see some family and friends that I hadn't seen in about a year. NYE came and I got dressed up fancy and went out with a few friends


I have one goal for 2018 - publish my book. 

I may regret posting this, but there's a lot of truth that needs to be said and I'm sick of keeping quiet about it. 2017 made me cynical, angry, depressed, and I learned what friendship is all while trying to become the most independent 23-year-old a person can hope to become. I truly wish I had written myself a letter early last year when I was so excited for the changes,

Real friends don't choose when they will offer support, they don't cower, and when needed they stand up for you. I'm sick of bending over backward for people who won't offer the same back, however, I don't plan on changing the time I give others. I can only hope that my current friendships will continue to grow.

From here on, I'm stopping making excuses for others. I'm going to stop apologizing for everything, and I'm not going to be afraid to call you out on something. It's time the lying stops, the excuses stop, and friends act like friends.
soapbox: If someone asks you for your time, be a friend and give it. You may not know how appreciated it is.

Be present, stop hiding the truth, communicate.
That's the least I expect, and the least I offer.