365 Day Project: 62

Today, started early. I had planned on getting so much done but then kiddos woke up. Super glad that the hubby pushed to take me to a fundraising event that supports the local pagan community but also where the kindred had a booth. It was awesome sitting there talking with everyone and I learned so much in so little time about Norse beliefs and ways. I also walked away with two goals for myself. One is a little more difficult than the other but those are for a late post.

This morning I completed a small goal of building the lego set that my husband purchased. I zone all the stress and anxiety out. I put my earbuds in that played an audiobook in my ears and my hands and eyes went to work. I decided I need larger sets that have more bricks and larger scale but the Harry Potter Aragog’s Lair was exactly what the doctor ordered and helped me prepare for the socializing that I did today.

The picture I took is a perfect example of how I feel at times so it’s symbolic to me.

#161226, #D9CBA3, #D99255, #D95E32, #8C3939

An Unread Essay

There was recently an essay contest that made the news last month. I thought about entering but it would literally be a drop of water in a bucket of millions of writers. It was for a mansion of a house and all a person had to do was write an essay and pay the $25 entry fee. The money earned from the entry was going to a domestic abuse charity which is something I could get behind. Why didn’t I do it? Well, $25 is a tank of gas for me or money needed to purchase ingredients to cook dinner for a night. This is what I started. Please understand, I’m not wanting pity. It’s just an essay written that I never submitted. Viewer discretion is advised. Read at your own risk.


I wouldn’t take the house you are offering for a well-written essay. One chosen that would hopefully move the reader enough to choose the most deserving writer. I know what it’s like to live in an abusive situation and in a beautiful home both at the same time. I would sell the mansion but not for what you would think.

I knew to escape my situation I would need to further my education. My first day of college was great and I felt an accomplishment until I got home. That night when I got back from a day of classes, getting lost, and learning the ropes of things I realized my mistake. My abuser wasn’t proud of his wife coming back from class, didn’t ask her how her day was, not even a hug. Instead, he was upset that there wasn’t dinner and his property disobeyed him. I can still feel the words sting before the broken rib snapped under his fist. I remember feeling the earth come to a halt. I retreated into myself and waited for it to stop hoping my body can withstand the force of anger. I could feel the earth start to spin again and from the comfort of inside my soul, he was done.

I wrapped my battered body with bandages and made one of the best meatloaves ever. The potatoes were thick and creamy and the meatloaf was seasoned perfectly and was careful to make the right amount of eye contact. When he was done with dinner I made sure the kids were washed and ready for the next day and as he slept that night I looked over my agenda for classes. I devised a meal plan that involved a crockpot and weekends of cooking meals and freezing.

What’s the ending, you may wonder? I found my strength and escaped my abuser and graduated college. I also accumulated a mountain of student loan debt and C-PTSD. So, no. I wouldn’t move into the home but rather sell it to pay off my debt. Helping rid me of the final shackles of my past and my abuser. I would purchase a house that I can sustain without debt and donate the rest to women that are still shackled by their abusers.

 

A Quick Daily Study: Stanza 23

Yup, Monday. I really want to stay home and cook and be creative but I’m going to go to work, do my job, and come home. The people are responsible for catfishing my job responsibilities know who they are and are aware that I’m ONLY going to do what they didn’t hire me to do. I have spoken up and I have made it known to the people that need to be informed. I received excuses and, ‘hand in there.’ I really hope I nail the interview tomorrow.

Pocket Translation:

A foolish man is all night awake, pondering
over everything; he then grows tired;
and when morning comes, all is
lament as before.

Chisholm:

The stupid man lies awake all night
and thinks about everything
and is tired in the morning
though all is as it was.

This is something I need to work on myself. Having CPTSD there are times that if I’ve gotten upset during the day about something my insomnia will kick in and I overthink the situation for hours. I’ll stress and give my anxiety anxiety trying to figure out a solution to the problem and how to fix it. If it was an argument I’ll entertain other ideas. This stanza is advising not to lose sleep over something when all that does is make you tired the next day and possibly over a problem that can’t be solved. Get the rest and think clearly the next morning. Happy Monday Y’all.

Week 3 Comic: Jo Has a Cat

I have been working on this comic here and there all day. I couldn’t nail a concept then the idea of what was going on in my character’s world kept changing. I don’t have a cat but I feel like my anxiety is like a cat sometimes and today I wanted to illustrate the stealthiness of it.

This week I ‘fleshed’ the character out a bit more and gave her hair that literally has a mind of its own. Mine has so many layers from different stylists that I may need to cut it into a short bob just to even everything out. I wanted that for the girl in the comic. This is a way for me to make light of my C-PTSD at times and I’m hoping to introduce new characters throughout. I have committed to 52 weeks (a year’s worth) of comic doodles. I don’t quite have a name for my little comic yet. Any ideas?

 

Saturday Stints

Saturday is my day to get all the errands completed even when the budget gets tighter than what was expected. Groceries are first and then my photo for the day which I’ll be trying to capture in a town over since that’s where I pick up groceries. Then it’s trying to poorly draw my comic for the week. If it brings a giggle then so be it.

Then it’s Thor’s Blot tonight with the kindred and I’m just trying to hammer out some details that were not mentioned on the event page. This means possibly putting a dish together at last minute with as little funds as possible.

Now, in a panicked fast voice read on: I need to pick up groceries but leave enough money left over to possibly make a dish to pass at the blot tonight, then I need to get a photo for my 365 Day project because I CANNOT flake out on that if I want to get better at cell phone photos. Oh, I need to edit them and post too. I can do that from my phone if I have to but I hate it. What is my comic going to be about this week? Ugh, fuck it. I’ll wing it. Oh, I need to look for one of my wacoms and PRAY that there is still software somewhere for me to download. I got on the treadmill this morning but I better make sure and eat low points today because if there is food at the blot I would want to eat. Damn the mead, I’m going to have to dip in my weekly points. Not a problem I have almost a full bank. Shit, I need to put money in the kids’ lunch account, and gas. Gas needs to go in the car. It’s almost 6 in the morning I if I look now I can find the tablet and doodle in peace before the kids get up. Too late, I heard legos being dumped in the floor upstairs. Leftovers, the kids can have leftovers tonight and the younger one goes with us.

This is almost exactly what it’s like with my anxiety but what people are not seeing is the depression because all I want to do is crawl back into bed and forget what all needs to be done and went through my head. I know I have forgotten something and will remember it when it’s past time to be done or due. Off to look for one of my archaic Wacom tablets. Happy Saturday everyone!

The Interview I Blew

Guys let me tell you…I really blew that interview last night. I was confident and thought that I would nail it. I thought that I would be able to quit the job that I have TODAY. I thought I would be happy going to work every day and even dressing a little nicer. I was WRONG WRONG WRONG! I was a horrible interview.

I thought I could control my anxiety and the thoughts running through my head. I thought I could answer all the questions that the interviewer had logically and sound intelligent. This is what CPTSD can do. It can ruin your dreams of getting out from underneath a job that essentially ruined your career from the minute you walked through that door.

At first, everything I did was correct but went south for the winter quicker than the birds up north! I dressed appropriately (regretting the money I spent) and brought my laptop for presentation. She asked about my thought process behind the ads that I needed to create. Blank…yup I, at that moment, had no FUCKING clue what I thought when creating the ads. My memory loss and grasp for words decided it was time to rear her ugly head. Oh, and the poster was supposed to be digital…hmm should’ve guessed that. The Facebook ad can only have 20% text well no shit but when I was creating them I completely forgot about that. I had tunnel vision and was more focused on the task of creating than the parameters. Do you know what a Facebook pixel is? I knew the answer but stupidly replied, ‘I’m sorry what?’  ‘I would like to see some of your work do you have a portfolio. My CPTSD hit the panic button. Lights were flashing and warning buzzards were going off. I muttered that my portfolio link is included with my Indeed resume. ‘No, it’s not there. Do you have anything to show me?’ Well of course not even though I had a folder right on my desktop. ‘ I intelligently muttered, ‘Is there WiFi here?’ GUYS WHO DOES THAT?! She asked me to send her a link. I almost completely shut down.

The interview was over and she wouldn’t even shake my hand. I promptly emailed her a link to my portfolio from the parking lot using my phone. I messaged my husband and told him I didn’t get the job and then I allowed myself to have the panic/meltdown attack that I was holding in. You know the relief you get in your chest from having to hold yourself together. I was no longer awkward and the cloud of noise lifted from head once my butt hit that car seat. After I was done crying I came home and went STRAIGHT to the Indeed website to add my portfolio link. Did you know that it was there? Apparently, she didn’t either. A few minutes later as I’m applying for more jobs the place I interviewed for posted and Indeed said my resume was a match. I read the post and she added more items and I quickly learned she was wanting someone with more experience. Someone that wasn’t me.

I wanted to scream for her to give me chance to see what I’m capable of but I just scrolled past. At this point, I wish anyone would give me a chance that understands what CPTSD can do to a person. I applied for other jobs and I’ll take a Xanax before walking into the interview to quiet everything in my head. I will do my stanza study this evening. I’m contemplating on putting on pants to go to work. Happy Wednesday everyone.

6 Word Story: 6/10

It was a rough night and my walk this morning suffered. Flashbacks are not for the squeamish. Imagine living your worst life experience, amplified while you sleep without having control over what’s in your dream. Well, maybe other than jerking awake covered in sweat and tears but nothing else. I’m going to paint and write today. Those are my only goals (other than counting those points) and I need to prove to myself that I can get past the last couple of days. I also want to thank everyone for the encouragement to find the courage to continue sharing and practicing creativity.


Prompt Word: New Heights

 

 

 

Are you being stalked?

CONTENT WARNING: Content May Be Offensive or Disturbing to Some Audiences.This article or section, or pages it links to, contains information about assault, suicide, abuse, violence or murder. Reader discretion is advised.

Real quick to better understand where I’m coming from. I have C-PTSD with anxiety and depression from over a decade of abuse (mental and physical), assault, and rape. There are reasons why I’m a gun carrying, pit bull owning, very aware woman. I have learned rather recently to not apologize for my mental struggles or my reasoning for my behavior. It’s not up for discussion or debate. It happened and I’m trying to get right with a lot. My writing and art are therapeutic for me. I try to encourage others because it’s taken me a long time for me to post, comment, and recently started sharing other posts and would like others to continue with their goals.


Due to recent events, I thought that this would be a good time to post about safely blogging. If you are like me I use my writing to be creative, heal, and encourage others. Unfortunately, sometimes bloggers intended purpose behind a post or comment is taken and read in an extremely different manner. So, yes, bloggers can be stalked, harassed, threatened, gas-lighted, browbeaten, hate-campaigned (including employing other bloggers) and so forth. I did some research and found that it’s more common than what people realize. Some basics:

  • Write under a pen name (Hi guys, I’m Jo)
  • Guard your privacy (choose wisely what is shared)
  • Edit background information from pictures (Is that my license plate?)
  • Delete GPS data from photos (Umm…huh?)
  • Let other bloggers know what happened-privately (Not in the comments but contact forms are nice)
  • Save emails and screenshots in case of escalations (I’m NOT responsible for your behavior)
  • Check your ‘Offline Security’ (The local PD are aware and my dogs are too!)
  • Comments need approval (You said what?)

Some Places for Tips
Blog Stalkers
Get Safe
iLookBothWays
Web Hosting Secrets

I have included those links so you are able to recognize warning signs and where to beef up your security. Local law enforcement in your area can be contacted and there are computer crime units that can help. When I thought that removing them as a follower would help it only made things worse. Ignoring the behavior only fueled their need. I encourage a lot of people to write and follow their dreams however big or small they may be. I gave some advice. Emails were sent (under a pen name) then WHAM! My first warning sign was a statement that they don’t handle being left all that well.  After I wasn’t commenting on their posts as often I received an email. Then their emotions leaked where they weren’t supposed too. Then the final email blamed me for everything including their behavior and thought process. There is a small hate campaign started but that’s ok because I’m going to be ok. I refused to cower this time. I spoke out and taking action. I’m still going to write and share.

There is a huge list of sites that can help with cyberstalking, cyber crimes, and victim support. If you need help please reach out to someone. The help is there.

Jo/© thecreativeptsdgal.wordpress.com

Please Don’t

Please don’t look at me,
I only want to walk into the store.

Please don’t watch me,
I only want to get what my family needs.

Please don’t talk to me,
I will stumble over my words trying to reply.

Please don’t stand to close,
I feel uncomfortable and want to run.

Please don’t make eye contact,
I feel obligated to look away.

Please don’t snicker,
I tried to say my coffee order that I rehearsed.

Please don’t shake your head,
I only want to order something to eat.

Please don’t acknowledge me,
I only want to be invisible.


I wanted to attempt a poem for the Daily Post Prompt: Invisible that captures some of my social anxieties. I remember a time when I was a social butterfly and then I was isolated. Now I’m left with the aftermath of my CPTSD. Some days are harder than others.

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