If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
I think I would change my lack of faith in myself. I tend to underestimate myself and as a result, I think other people underestimate me, too. I need to have more confidence that I know what I’m doing, I know how to get it done, I know I have the strength, and I can make my dreams happen. 🙂
Yeeaahhh… I was left unattended in Barnes and Noble with a credit card… This is the result. Actually, this and a couple things for my kiddo for Easter/Ostara gifts, but still… Â >_< *smoke wafts off debit card*
I regret nothing. “Ghost” was I comic I read in high school and while it may seem silly to others, she was a huge role-model for me.  Rediscovering her at this time in my life has to be fate. 🙂 As for the special edition “Death?” It’s Neil Gaiman. I’d read the phone book if he wrote it. :p
The Tarot and Trace books just looked cool. I’ve always wanted to expand what I can do with my tarot cards and any sort of spiritual advancement I’ll take. :p
This is about IT for me in regards to book shopping. I did a big shop last week when I took the demon seed to get pictures with the Easter Bunny and still haven’t finished all THOSE comics. Looks like reading isn’t my anti-drug, it IS my drug. XD
Keeping with last entry’s letter, I’ve also been thinking a lot about reconciliation. Particularly since the dealings with my mother’s estate are very nearly done. Over the last year, I’ve learned some sooper seekret things about Ma that I honestly feel would have brought us closer as mother and daughter. I think I will carry my resentment towards losing that connection with her for the rest of my life. There’s no way I can straight up yell at her for it (unless anybody knows a good medium).
However, I have reconciled with the why’s and how’s of her secrets. I’m a thirty something in the year 2012; having grown up in the 80’s and 90’s and not having to deal with much discrimination. Ma grew up with darker skin than mine in the 1950’s. You don’t come up a poor, Black, feminist in that time without developing a thick skin and a chip on your shoulder.
I wish she could have reconciled all that anger and self-deception before she died. I’m sure sure she would have been happier. Ma always worried I would end up “like her,” someone who thought of nothing but work and responsibility at the expense of all else. But it was that determination which helped me have an easier time of coming to terms with the myriad of feelings a parent’s death will bring you. She made me strong. For that, I am grateful.
I’ve posted about forgiveness before but a lot has happened since then and I’ve had a recent update.
As things progress on the processing of my Ma’s will, the lawyer who wrote it was finally found. Turns out the way it was worded did NOT mean Ma thought was some sort of an empty headed ninny who could be manipulated by her husband into leaving her child homeless. It was meant to go into a trust to protect me in case of divorce.
To be fair, the will was drafted during a time when me and my husband were having MAJOR problems and divorce was very likely. Since then, we have grown so much as a couple and as individuals that our marriage is much stronger. Part of this had to do with Ma’s sickness and eventual death. We really had to support each other during that time. Mainly, it was about growing the hell up. For the both of us.
Knowing this was such a weight off my shoulders. Ma saw what a good man my husband became and always knew her daughter had a good head on her shoulders. (“Sane,” no. “Good,” yes.) But life happens and she wanted a fail-safe to protect her daughter. So, for that I forgive her. I let go of my anger and move on towards healing.
I don’t often remember my dreams but when I do, they are DOOSIES. Most of the time, they are working through the stress of the day. If I have a difficult time at work, my dreams sort out the stress. But every once in awhile, they are to prepare me.
Before my mother started to get very sick, I dreamed of my Granny. It may sound kooky but I really believe she came to me to prepare me for what was coming. She told me to be strong and enjoy the happy times because life ends so fast… And of course, Granny was right; a lesson I need to relearn now in dealing with both of their deaths. I need to learn to remember the good times with them and let some of my anger go.
I keep a written journal where I write my dreams down when they are like this (because dreams where I’m shopping and can’t decide what I want or need are pretty self explanatory). Every so often I get an idea for a story from my dreams, as well. I record whatever I can remember and build upon them at a later date.
I also dream in color; which is supposed to mean something fantastic.
Either way, I try to save them all and learn the lessons they are trying to teach me.
And good riddance. 2011 will always be the year my Ma died no matter what other good things happened to me. Her death eclipses all 365 days. All I can claim from it is her cold hands and the smell of HOSPITAL from which I will never come clean and will spur panic attacks for years to come.
I’m still thinking of what I want to accomplish in 2012. When I have a list, I’ll post it. As of right now all I have is “Not 2011.”
Yes, I’m still trying to make sure we get Ma’s business all closed up so I spent my morning nursing a chocolate hangover and calling about her missing pension payments.
Not to whine but those payments will be what helps pay the mortgage and I need them. I do not make enough money on my own to cover the payments and while Ma was alive, we were splitting them. It’s made the last few months tight but I’ve been managing. I take a lot of overtime and the few stories I’ve been selling have kept me just above freakout level.
But that won’t last forever. :/
I know a lot of people have it worse than me. I’m just complaining a little. :p
In writing news, it’s still short story central for me. But it has shaken something lose for Greenhouse so I’m sure I’ll be getting to that soon. 🙂
Every time I’ve cut my hair, there has been loss. The first time was like cutting a leash: My parents couldn’t tell me what I would do with my own body anymore. I lost the dependance of childhood.
The second time was when I lose my Granny. I cut it to my chin, the shortest length I’ve ever had it, to show the depth of my loss. She was a parent. I grieved deeply.
The third was after I had my daughter. I lost my “Maiden” status when I gave birth – which nearly killed me. I was a Mom. That time I only cut it below my chin, as it was a beginning for me as well. I love my daughter and she was worth every drop of blood I spilled to bring her in to this world.
Now, I have lost my Mother.
So, I give it to her. I love her enough that she can have it.
Hopefully, I never have to cut my hair again.