I vaguely remember what the bathroom looked like. There was a large mirror to my left and above a cream, faux-marble counter. The white wooden door of a medicine cabinet peeked out from behind the left side of his head. To the right was nothing but the hazy glow of white street lamps trying to shine through a frosted window.
Up until that night, I had never been that excruciatingly angry.
He was practically begging. “Please.” “Why not?” “Just for a minute.” But I couldn’t, I didn’t want to. Here we were, locked in a dark bathroom on the second floor of a house that belonged to someone I didn’t know. I can still hear him trying to charm me into giving in. He had a hold of my right wrist and was gently tugging it, trying to persuade me to my knees. All the while smiling. And begging. I said no. Nicely. And I said it repeatedly. But he kept trying to sweet-talk me. “Don’t you love me?” “C’mon, please.”
Finally out of frustration, I snapped at him. “Get your whore Andrea to do it.” It was petty, I know. But what can I say? I was only 15. I didn’t know any other way to behave. As the words flew out of my mouth, I pushed him away from me. I was still so disgusted about his previous indiscretions that I figured what better way to get him to leave me alone.
How we got from inside the bathroom to out in the hallway, I don’t remember. But he was beyond pissed. I could hear him mumble something as he turned toward the stairs. I don’t remember what exactly, but it was enough at the time to make me feel like I had just been gutted. I was nauseous and angry and hurt. In the seconds it took him to walk toward the top of the stairs, I took a tally of all of the hurtful things he had ever done, all of the nasty, hateful things he had ever said, and all of the rules and regulations that came with being with him. In those few seconds, I wanted him to feel every minute of pain that he had ever caused me.
I had every intention of hurting him. And I believed it would have been his fault. He had pushed me to the edge. I wanted him to know what it was like to be bruised and beaten, and then have those same wounds kissed better by the person who inflicted them. I wanted him to see what it was like to feel like a caged animal living in fear.
I fully intended to push him down those stairs.
Hells to the yeah!! I finally hit a major milestone… over 10,000 words! Feeling pretty damn good about it too. 🙂
As of last Thursday, I was still sitting at 8,178. I was drowning in doubt and my lack of creativeness. Every time I would start to think about what I had written, I would start to panic. How was I going to ever get this jumbled mess made into something that someone may actually want to read? Thankfully I took the advice I had received from fellow writers… I listened to some “mood music” so I could set just the the right tone. It helped more than I thought it would.
My momentum lasted all weekend and I’m more excited about my little story than I had been all month. I’m hoping to carry this positivity into the rest of the week.
Uh-oh spaghetti O’s
I’m guilty of procrastinating. A terrible habit that I just can’t seem to get rid of. I did get a little bit of writing done and brought up my word count to 8178. But as for the rest of the weekend… I chose to take a nap or catch up on shows I have DVR’d instead. I know. I know. I could have been writing. But every time I looked at the computer, I started thinking of all of the things that were missing to make my book complete. There are a ton of things that I could be doing in order to not only make my book better, but also get me that much closer to the 50k goal.
Thanks to a bit of calling out by a fellow writer, I have had a number of suggestions to get me motivated. I have downloaded a few apps and added some notes to icloud so that I can jot down anything that comes to mind whenever the moment strikes. So no more excuses…
Except that Monday’s are terrible for me. Getting caught up on The Walking Dead is an absolute must. If I have to wait longer than 24 hours to watch it, my poor spouse would probably have me committed.
Anywho, my plan is to add a little more detail to “chapters” I have already written, creating the beginning and end, and working on connecting the chapters so that it flows. Tomorrow it’s full steam ahead. 🙂
It’s official. I’m crazy. While this is not news to anyone who knows me, the reason for the declaration could be. I write. (Obviously. This is a blog for gravy’s sake.) It’s my dream job is to be like Diane Keaton in Something’s Gotta Give. Sitting at a huge mahogany desk, in my amazing beach house that was expertly decorated by the peeps at Pottery Barn and Anthropologie, and writing. All day.
Anywho… during one of my many Apartment Therapy surf sessions, I stumbled upon this little thing called NaNoWriMo. The goal is to write 50,000 words in a month in order to prepare your novel. I have put together a few of short stories over the years but never gave much thought into what to do with them. After checking out this website, and the all of the different kinds of writers that participate, I have decided to take all of the ideas and stories that float around in my head and put them on paper… well technically, they’ll be on screen, but you know what I mean.
As of this very moment, I only have a little over 7,200 words. And I have a LONG way to go before I reach 50,000. They say the key to reaching the goal is to set aside time each and every day and focus on writing. Honestly, the idea of forcing myself to write sounded more painful than working out. Fortunately for me, I am finding that the more time I make to write, the more ideas start flowing, and the closer I get to reaching the end.
I have fully accepted that I may not get to the 50k by the 30th, but I’m totally okay with that. I think I just needed the excuse – maybe push is a better word – to get my ass in gear and actually do something with what makes me insanely happy.
So, yeah, about 6 months ago I had planned to start blogging more… obviously, we see how that went. Instead, I got sucked into permanent exhaustion. I have not had the energy to do anything but go to work and sleep. Hell, sleeping has become my favorite hobby. I can thank my amazing thyroid for that. Or should I thank my fabulous immune system? Either way, I’m over it.
Thanks to my good friends at WebMD, and one consultation from a integrative family medical clinic, I have diagnosed myself with Hashimoto’s thyroiditis. Basically for reasons unknown, my immune system is attacking my thyroid. This lovely condition means that I can’t lose weight, I have a rapid heartbeat, I’m almost always hot, and I am unbelievably tired. Not like oh-I-could-really-use-a-nap tired, but more like sleeping-for-36-hours-straight-still-isn’t-enough tired. And let me tell you… this shit sucks! I hate being tired all time. I can deal with the perma-fat thing. I can even deal with sweating like a whore in church in 50 degree weather. But I hate having to sleep for hours and hours and still feeling like lifting my head off the pillow would be like pulling a car with my teeth.
Now, my self-diagnosis wasn’t something that happened overnight. I think that I have been slowly experiencing different symptoms for years and finally figured out what could be causing it. It seemed like no matter how normal my blood tests said I should be feeling, I could not make the symptoms tone their shit down.
I have finally decided that enough is enough. For the love of gravy, sleeping my life away doesn’t really sound like a good way to spend my 30’s. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking to give up my 2-hour power naps. Life without naps just seems crazy. But with the help of my mom, I have modified my diet (no nightshade vegetables; limiting, with plans of maybe eliminating, dairy, gluten, and sugar) and so far it seems to be helping. Granted, I would really love to dive into a few donuts and a Coke (I really miss soda). But in the long run, I have to make these sacrifices so that the weird lump on my throat will calm down and I can start to feel normal again.
I do have an appointment next week with an endocrinologist so I will hopefully get an official diagnosis… even though my own research hasn’t failed me yet.