Super Excited!

Coming home and ordering pizza was one of the most relaxing things I’ve done for myself today outside of creating my olive monster. Then I learn that I REALLY get to write a guest post on an art blog. Details coming soon but I’m OVER THE MOON to be given the opportunity to do it. THEN I was checking stats and noticed that one of my referrers was Discover. Umm…HUH? After Discover ended the topics I thought that would NEVER appear again.

I had a short response and thought it wouldn’t make a difference. There were so many awesome responses and stories. The question was, ‘What if you could do anything?’ My insignificant answer, short and to the point, ‘Heal what has been broken.’ There is so much turmoil in the world and within me that these were the only acceptable words that could barely scrape explaining what I would do. But, Y’ALL! (insert excited EEK here). I’m the 6th response down!!!

With everything going awful and these two positive moments happening on the same day is a renewal of determination and grasping confidence again. Just wanted to share and toot my own horn for a bit. EEK! And now I’m going to get some much needed rest.

Not Good Mommy

I could write about how I handle (or not handle) kids tantrums or how I feel like a failure when my kids threw one in stores. Or how about describing the dirty looks from other parents as my child is rolling around on the floor because I told them that there weren’t any spirally shaped popsicles and it was my fault. Nope, I’m going to tell you how GOOD it felt to throw a tantrum. I’m ready to throw one now-I don’t negotiate with terrorists.  I have an 8-year old that is crying because I have grounded him from his XBox, Kindle, playing outside with friends, and dessert tonight. Harsh? Not a chance! But that’s for a different story.


I was with my ex and had three very young children in tote ranging from diapers to 5-year-old fierceness heading to the grocery store. In reality, that place is actually a timed gauntlet for parents to run when kids are with. I needed to get something for dinner. We (my now-ex and I) were tired of chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, and other kid-friendly foods. I wanted a vegetable that I didn’t have to refer to as a ‘tree’ so you can eat knowledge or carrots to help you find bunnies. A protein that required more than a bit of time in the oven to crisp the breading on a dinosaur shape. I always gave in and cooked foods that I knew the kids would eat and mealtimes were quiet but I was going to shake things up.

I chose thinly sliced steak for beef fajitas passing the hot dogs. Mistake 1. I grabbed tortillas, black beans, rice, and fajita seasoning passing the taco shells. Mistake 2. This is where my fierce 5-year-old launched the first attack of 20 questions food and what she and her siblings like to eat. I answered as non-descript as I could still having hope they will eat the dinner. I grabbed onions, bell peppers, tomatoes, and avocados. Mistake 3. I told them no to berries, watermelon, grapes, and oranges explaining that they have apples and grapes at the house that they needed to finish. This was the mistake 4 and the reason for my toddler to throw herself on the floor. She rolled, she turned, she kicked, and screamed like a banshee caught in a net! I was doing ok. I maintained my cool, picked her up off the floor, got down to her level and explained that this was unacceptable behavior. Good right? Wrong. As her infant sister and older sister watched my toddler grabbed the strawberries and defiantly threw them in the buggy, stuck her chin out and walked ahead of me. She strutted around proud that she just seemingly put mommy in her place. I called her name for her to watch me take the fruit out of the basket and placed them back on the shelf.

I know, you’re thinking, ‘They were just strawberries. Spend the few bucks and maintain peace.’ No, I refuse to have an acceptable level of being a toddlers toy that she can manipulate, disobey, and defy. This action sent her on a blind range of running through the produce section making sure to knock down the apples, onions, and whatever round fruit she could until I was able to grab her. This was round two rolling around on the floor. I looked at everyone staring at me, the overcome prompting employees to come help with the cleanup, and my other two watching in disbelief. It was a lot. I could’ve scooped her up and took all the kids to the car. I could have bargained with her, hell I could’ve spanked her (if it was me and I did that my mom would have opted for that) instead I threw myself on the floor. I was already a spectacle why not go all out? I rolled, I kicked, and I screamed. The only sound in the store was me and I have to admit that was a great stress reliever. When I was done I looked at my oldest who looked like she wished someone would kidnap her and my toddler was mortified.

I stood up with a feeling of inner peace and as I took the few steps I needed to reach her my focus was on the lesson. She took a step back as I kneeled down to her level. ‘[My child’s name] how do you feel?’ I asked. ‘Bad. Not good mommy’ ‘Bad because your mommy threw a fit?’ she nodded. ‘What you’re feeling is shame and embarrassment. It doesn’t feel good does it?’ she shook her head no. This is what mommy feels like when you do the same thing. It doesn’t get you anything you want. You need to learn to deal with someone telling you no. As you get older you’ll understand.’ After that day she never threw a tantrum and learned that I have my reasons for saying, ‘no’ or asking nicely may get you something else. Side note, those floors in grocery stores are filthy. I don’t recommend rolling around on them.

Practicing Poetry: Vague

I’ve been worrying and working so much on my A to Z blogging challenge I haven’t done much of anything else. The emails and awards I’m hoping to catch up on this weekend. I cannot write Haikus to save my life but here goes nothing and yes, I survived this. These are in response to Discover’s Prompt for the day. Oh, but I came across a tool that I’m sure a lot of my poetry posters know of but for the ones that don’t check out this link. It was super fun to work with and helped me so much. I was amazed at how many times I had to edit and reword lines. And since I’m a glutton for punishment and couldn’t help myself I decided to write an Acrostic poem. I had no idea what in the hell that was until I looked it up. I did those in elementary school!


Love’s Confession

Obscure by default,
I’ll confess in my own time.
Love isn’t vague just protected.

 

 

 

 


Why so Vague?

Being obtuse is at times, my safe haVen
Shyness is one of my Absolute rules.
My heart decides when a person Gains insight of me.
Genuine Understanding is what I need, not want.
I’m learning not to pardon my Emotions.


Jo/© thecreativeptsdgal.wordpress.com

Warning Quartet

I should have known or at least picked up on the warnings quicker. I guess that’s why I’m now hiding in my basement. It was a breezy summer night. The kind that you open the windows of the house and sit on the porch so the air kisses everything with freshness. I was sitting on the porch when the cicadas stopped singing in the trees. Unfortunately, I was so enthralled with my book to notice. But that would be the first warning if I had to guess.

Then the crickets stopped chirping but remembering back, it wasn’t in one area, it was all over. As if the whole county of crickets was spooked at once. This I noticed but didn’t think anything of it. I excused it away thinking that there may be a storm coming in. I went into the kitchen to fix myself a glass of Dr. Pepper and back to my rocking chair and book. I reckon any observant person would have at least turned on the news but not me. That’s why I’m now in hiding in the basement with the doors locked.

The lightning bugs were gone when I looked up. As a child, we would smear their glowing substance on us as children and play tag. Not seeing them echo light signals to each other made me stand up and walk off the porch. There weren’t any clouds in the sky or nature sounds anywhere. That’s when I couldn’t feel the breeze anymore. Not around my feet or through my hair. The darkness of the night even seemed to be more dangerous. That’s why I’m hiding in my basement with the doors locked and listening to the news through headphones of my radio.

I left my book and my drink on the porch and headed inside allowing the screen door to bang behind me. That’s when I felt a rumble through the floor. I peeked out the window and didn’t see anything but a cloud of dust getting closer and closer. How could a cloud of dust be moving without wind? Then I heard the screams. It was the screaming from neighbors and people that were trying to escape the dust cloud. There was the sound of crunching metal and wood in the cloud but something else. Was it bones crushing or trees? Or both? That’s why I searched for matches and candles to light in the darkness.

All I could remember seeing was the dust slowly blowing in my yard. After seeing body limbs and parts raining down from the cloud of dust, I took off in a terror to the safest place I could think of while carrying my dog. The news said not to go near the dust cloud and to hide from the darkness. If I had paid attention, could I have helped my neighbors? Could I have had time to drive away from whatever the danger is? I regret the quartet of warnings I missed. Now, I’m hiding in my locked basement listening to the news with my dog by my side, and sitting in a circle of candles and oil lanterns.


I’m already having a horrible day at work and decided that writing a short story might help. I had to try something with Discover’s prompt. It seemed boring until I was inspired by something that happened at work. It involved a young kid that was hired to do the custodial duties. He wasn’t good at it and barely showed up to work. I had to dust my computer area and clean the floors. It can be something so weird that gives you an idea. Would this be considered horror genre or thriller? I don’t know but I think this has potential but not on my top 5 list. Still had fun writing and feeling a little less anxious.

Micro Thoughts

When I was little, I often thought about the insects in the yard and how life was for them being so small. Did they have school? Did insect parents go to work? Do they have fun? Or were their lives just simple daily tasks for survival? I would watch them in wonderment trying to figure them out. Now that I am older, a mom, wife, and employed, I understand. Their lives are no different from ours. We complete daily tasks for our survival (this includes my art and writing). Even we are micro in size compared to the universe.


I wanted to keep my response to the Discover Prompt: Micro, to 99 words challenging myself to write today (even at work). I was feeling ‘blah’ yesterday but writing brings me personal happiness and I’m trying to stay positive.

Faceless Warning

Screaming myself awake had become a once a month norm. Ever since I was three I had a dream of how I would die. As I got older the man of my dreams didn’t scare me as much. He was my once a month visitor that only I could see. He kept his identity a mystery which I was calmly ok with. Why would I want to know who murders me?

As I got older I went through school, dances, boyfriends, and graduation. The dreams kept occurring but never gave any information of my age, the location, or his identity. I started my first job at a local library. That month I didn’t have a dream. After three months of working there, I met a young man that took me to all these different places where we would enjoy food, movies, dancing, comedy, music, or just each other. I felt alive and never thought of the man of my dreams.

The young man took me home one night after a poetry reading, we kissed goodnight, nothing new. That night the man of my dreams visited me. He had the same features as the young man I was dating but faceless. This time he didn’t kill me right away. In my dream, we were in the stacks at my library. He hands me this book where his voiceless words appeared on the page. That’s when he took the book from me and started bashing me in the head until I woke up. Screaming.

I went to work the following morning not giving another thought to the dream until I had to file the books back in their stacks. In my hands was the blood red book from my dreams. I opened it up to find my handwriting. I was confused as I read in my penmanship, ‘The man in your dreams will not visit you anymore but will see you on the other side if you do not fight for your life. The man you’ve been seeing is the soulmate that you never got to meet. You can choose to die and be with him now or you can fight and meet him after you lived a long life. In the back of this book is a letter opener. If you want to live, take it and turn around right now and place it in your killers head. I was shaking as I unsheathed the blade.’

I thought, ‘Is this for real? Can this really be happening?’ I heard the sound of someone breathing behind me when without thinking I turned and placed the blade in the throat of my attacker. His wide eyes looking both surprised and furious. After the police came and time passed I did what any librarian would do. I did some research. The man I killed was a person of interest in the murder of the man in my dreams. He was kidnapped and taken to a field where he fought and lost the battle for his life. The night I killed my murderer he had rope, a knife, and gloves. I’m sure he would have taken the book from me and killed me just like in my dreams.

The title of the book that I haven’t read yet, ‘Unspoken’. I still don’t know how my handwritten warning was in this book. Was it me? Was it him?  I wish I still had the dreams just to learn more about the man and the killer but now I only sleep through the night.


Tried something new with this and even though I had several different endings this one only felt right. I think if I work on this a bit more it could be a longer-short story. Do you have a faceless person in your dreams? What do you think they are trying to tell you?

Foreign Storm

When people think of foreign they think of languages, countries, affairs, and literature. I could get a tutor for the languages and literature, guides when in other countries and C-Span for affairs but what if there isn’t anyone to lead?

My first real experience with something foreign occurred in my early 20’s. I was a mother of a vibrant and fearless toddler when I went through my first divorce. I had to get a job, babysitter, learn to change the oil in my car, to learning something as basic as replacing batteries in the smoke detector. Ok, maybe not that, but let’s just say I was the only adult in the house and needed to raise my daughter.

It was a southern stormy night when the tornado sirens started howling. I grabbed my daughter and headed for the closet. I remembered that the water heater closet was next to the one in the hallway that we were seeking protection in. I had to turn off the heater. I grabbed a tool, not knowing what it was meant for and went to work.

I had roughly 7 minutes from the sound of the warning to possible destruction. I handed my daughter the flashlight and that fearless little girl held the light for her mommy with sirens blaring. I turned a knob and I couldn’t feel any vibrations. ‘I think we did it!’ I told the little one who nodded with toddler certainty.

The sirens stopped. I walked outside to find a still sky that was green and black. There were birds up high flying around with gray clouds turning and passing overhead. I knew that it wasn’t good but didn’t want to frighten my little girl. I scooped her up and we quickly made a mattress fort in the closet fully equipped with snacks and crayons. I could hear the sound of the monster starting. Windows trying to hold the barrier, the protesting creaks of the walls and that’s when the lights went out.

We continued to color until there was silence again along with birds chirping. We stepped outside to see the dark sky passing and that our house withstood the tornado. The block behind us didn’t fare well and there was some extensive damage to the houses. Shortly after, I was approached by a utility worker explaining that I needed to turn off the gas that there were some pipes that were busted. I said, ‘I turned the water heater off.’ The puzzled look from the utility worker made me feel stupid. The worker checked and I had completed my task correctly.

Foreign can be found in a task that others don’t even bat an eye at. We made it through that storm but also the storming thoughts of how I couldn’t do things without a husband.


I took this prompt and ran with it. When I was a single mom, everyday actions and items were now foreign to me. I was really put to the test that night.

6 Word Story: 3/23

Look at everything that has been discovered and then destroyed. What if there was a new world and we happen upon it only to receive a warning?


Prompt Word: Curiosities

This world isn’t meant for discovery.

Words of Patience

I use to stare at the blank page trying to force the creativity out. Putting words on paper that can evoke emotions is more difficult than I realized. When I first starting writing I didn’t have any patience. I put the basic information into a program and Voila! A writer is born, or so I thought. I realized it takes time, practice and a lot of effort to even form a complete sentence.

My first story I wrote was even cringe-worthy to me and I immediately tossed it in the trash and myself on the bed to self-loathe. The table for one pity party was a constant dinner for about a week. I refused to open my laptop or even pick up a pen. Then one day after making dinner I remembered an idea that I had a year ago and slowly but surely I have been adding words to a page, building characters that I would love to meet, and a fictional situation with a touch of truth that I have even taken the time to research.

It was never me not being able to write. It was me not having the patience with myself to write. Now, I let the story grow and nothing is to be satisfied by instant gratification. I am now proud of my words because I took time to stare at the blank page and allow the subject the time to grow.


This really isn’t a short story but more of some truth about me. I can be a very impatient person. Having a busy schedule with kids, work, and my personal interests, sometimes it seems there isn’t an end in sight. The anxiety I have doesn’t help and the thought of being a failure can add to the tension. I’m learning and that’s all I can strive for.

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