Weekly Writing Challenge; 1,000 Words


relaxationI crave relaxation. I accept what I am not, which is relaxed, but I don’t like it. I have always looked at myself as a survivor. A gentle soul floating carelessly on the waves of life. Taking in, listening, and yet able to make decisions according to what the almighty God and myself feel to be right.

When that one day came last week and I ended up face down on the floor I was scared. When I felt my body quivering out of fear and heard my own heart beating hard against the floor, I knew something was wrong. I was in trouble.

As I forced myself to stand and walk to the kitchen where my blood pressure kit lay I felt each step I took my feet were covered in very thick cement. I took my blood pressure and I was only a few numbers a way from a dangerous stroke level.

I went back to the living room and fell to my knees. I wept in to my own arms as I knew that the constant state of being a caregiver had at this moment taken its tole on me. It was no accident that my best girlfriend appeared that same evening.

Although quite embarrassed at her being able to see me in this stage, I was also very thankful that it was her and not Al or someone who would think less of me.

It is odd how something so innocent can grab a hold of us. I don’t even work outside the home and yet the pressures inside my body were building ever so steadily, with no time clock present anywhere.

How can being the best sister I could be or loving someone so easily become out of hand? I didn’t have a boss hovering over me. I had no time frame of my own and yet the life of my brother, his very own illness, took on a mask of its own in my own body.living_soul

Why didn’t I see it? What made me think I was invincible? How could I not recognize it? I don’t have the answers. I can assume that I was so involved with Al that I didn’t recognize what was happening.

What I am thankful for is my  friend being here. My rock is what I call her. With her guidance and understanding I dialed my doctor. I set the appointment. I allowed my pride to be lowered. I let her drive me to the office.

I have a real phobia with medications. It doesn’t matter if it is in liquid, pill, capsule, I fight taking anything. I know why I do it, I just haven’t figured out how to get past it. Years ago when I was first diagnosed with Diabetes, the doctors kept giving me too strong of medications.

I would be doing something, anything, and I would pass out. It didn’t take long for my mind to connect pills and passing out was a bad thing. Now, years later I still struggle, but can take something with the help of someone being with me when it is a brand new prescription. I wait for two hours. If nothing happens I know I am safe and can continue on with the taking of medications until the bottle is gone.

How silly is this? Am I not stronger than that? Aren’t I in control of my own life and old enough to make my decisions. How can something from over twenty years ago still live very much alive within me. I don’t understand, but I know fear of bad things takes over and I have not learned how to crush it down to return more to myself.

When we get involved with things to do in our lives we don’t take the time to relax in between. We are rushing here and there, sometimes going nowhere, and yet we are always in a hurry.

When did life become so mad? Where did it start, the feeling of having to hurry? When did we forget to stop and say thank-you for living this day, or look at the beautiful skies, or see the pretty flowers.

Life can be fabulous and then life can become blurred as we walk in our all too familiar paths each day. For me, I had to hit bottom. No matter how much I love my brother or want to do the best for him, I have to take the time to remember who I am.

I have to remember that I am important also. I need tending too. My heart, my soul, my body need rest too. Is this wrong to think of me when a soul is laying in that bed waiting to die?

I have begun to realize the answer to this is yes. It is imperative that we give our mind and body time to digest what we are seeing and feeling. We must nurture our bodies along with allowing peace to enter our souls.

We are humans only. I am no super woman because I feel love for others. I have to slow down. I have to let others pitch in. I have to lower my pride and allow others to sense my tiredness.

It has been a rough journey these past six years. I have watched my brother go from a strong giant to an infant laying in a bed. I have had to see him come to the point where he can do nothing for himself anymore. I feed him from a syringe. I allow myself to break down now. I cry the tears.

There is no good reason to hold back anything. Maybe Al needed to see me cry. Maybe it was one way I could show him how much I loved him. Although I have told him many times he has my permission to leave and go to heaven, I can say it now with a reality in  my heart that he and I both, will be better in the end.

 

Weekly Writing Challenge; DPCHALLENGE


http://jackiespeaksit2014.wordpress.com

#DP Challenge

This week, weave a story about yourself told through the lens of your past December 23rds.

When I think back to past Christmas years on the 23, I get mixed memories. Smiles, sadness can appear and then fade a way as I go year to year.

Christmas as a kid was always the same. Wonderful, magical, excitement! Those were the days.

Christmas as a married adult meant working over-time, need of more money, lots of presents under the tree for our children. Giggles and screams of delight as wanted gifts were opened.

A divorce and remarriage on the rebound means sadness to me. A husband who made life hard to exist. Him hiding when people came to our house. Embarrassment, replaced delight of seeing people. Wanting to get the day over with. No money, very few gifts. It was always a sad time for me and an angry time as well. I saved my little bit of money I earned each week and finally was freed from this relationship.

The loss of parents that you love leaves the biggest gap in your heart. Christmas joy is ripped a way. Tears and sorrow replace all other feelings. Robotic movements kick in as you try so hard to carry on in a normal way that Christmas is supposed to be. Always glad when it is over, but sad when my kids leave to go back to their homes.

Christmas this year I dreaded with all that I have. Excitement over my kids being here. Sadness over wondering if Al would make it to the holiday. Thankful he was here, sad he slept through it. Not as many gifts but gifts that were wanted and enjoyed. Plenty of food and good conversation took the sting out of what was happening in my brother’s bedroom.

I am glad Christmas is over. My tree is down and the house looks more back to normal. Al is still here having bad days, and some better days mixed in. I treasured each moment with my entire family, knowing in my heart that there will never be a Christmas like this again.

Christmas will come once again. The 23rd will arrive without delay. People will come and some will never be seen again, but hopefully the future will open new doors. New memories and I will once again smile, remembering the pasts and looking forward to the future.

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Weekly Writing Challenge; The Difference


http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/10/21/point-of-view-challenge/ DP Challenge

In today’s challenge, you’ll tell the same story from two or more unique perspectives. You can choose from the prompts below, or create your own prompt.

My Story Challenge

It was about 10:30 at night. Russell, my husband was in bed, but I just couldn’t sleep. I was restless and wasn’t sure why. I had sure worked hard enough at the plant today. It just always seems the better I do, the more parts they want put out. There is no rest for the wicked, I guess.

Russell and I had been married for about 20 years. He rescued me when I made a big mistake years ago. I don’t know if Russell really loved me or if he  just plain felt sorry for me. Back in my day it was improper to do what I had done. I could have paid a higher price than I did. He was a good man. He takes good care of me.

There isn’t a lot of romance but just enough to keep the nerves calm. He works at the same factory I do. In fact he is the one who got me in. He introduced me to his boss and I got work real easy.

I finished drinking my cup of warm milk but still wasn’t tired. I looked towards the window. It was dark as dark could be. This was a quiet neighborhood. We lived on a dead-end street. Not much traffic round here.

I wandered over to the window and pulled the desk chair close. I opened the window a bit to get some fresh air. It is a good thing for sleep, getting fresh air. As I thought, no one stirring.

I sat there for a while just letting the chill go in my nostrils. Instead of making me tired it sort of refreshed me and I was more a wake now than ever. I propped my arm up and rested  my chin on it just staring out over the tops of the trees, gazing at the stars.

I heard a noise and as I looked over in the direction of where it was coming from I spotted two people. They were standing under the only street lamp. He had his arms around her waist and she had her arms around his shoulders.

I squinted so I could get a better look at the two. They looked like maybe they were young high-school kids. I instantly went back in time to the moment I was standing just like they are.

Oh those were the days. The golden days of love and romance. Stars in my eyes. I never did hear anything but the words he whispered in my ear. I wonder where he is today. It has been over twenty years since the last time I saw him.

I watched the two and they were kissing. I know I should turn a way, put my chair back and leave the window, but my own memories were playing on the phonograph and I was sort of scared for these two.

I can still hear his words. Oh baby, I just love you so much. You know how much I want you and besides this just isn’t fair; you turning me down. We both know I have to leave for the military next week. How can I go knowing I never got to prove my love to you.

I watched as they dropped their hands and moved over to the grass. I could still see them but not as good. He took off his jacket and laid it on the grass.

I didn’t want to do what I did, but I loved him so much. How could I turn him down?

Oh young lady, you better be real careful. Don’t fall for any of his cute words. He is just trying to have his way with you. He is thinking of his own needs and nothing about you. I couldn’t see exactly what they were doing but by the stirring I knew they were about to do the same things I did.

He talked me into laying down on the grass where he was already sitting. He took my face and turned it towards him and he kissed me real quick. I can remember looking into his eyes. I must have set off some sort of stupid signal because the next thing I knew he had sort of pushed me down to the ground and he was kissing me real hard on the mouth. He parted my lips apart with his tongue and he was feeling everywhere inside.

Oh girlie, I hope you aren’t letting him do that to you. Neither of you look old enough to be getting married. From here you both look like you’re still wet behind the ears. Be careful honey. Don’t listen to anything he says. Get up, walk a way, I promise you won’t regret it. Sure it will hurt for a few days, but you could be ruining the rest of your life.

Oh baby, I love you so much. I can remember as he was sweet talking me his fingers were fumbling with buttons. His hands were finding places I had never even explored myself.

Mr., Mr. please don’t do this. Don’t ruin her for the rest of her life. Have some decency. Get up and go home and take a cold shower. Tears started to stream from my eyes. I didn’t even know I was beginning to cry until my hand started to feel wet. Oh how I wish I would have made different choices. I was too young.

He placed his hand in a very private area. Against my words my body rose to the attention it was getting. In no time at all he was standing up, zipping up his pants. He lit a cigarette and looked down at me. I felt warm all over and when I touched myself and looked at my hand I saw blood. All he could do was laugh and say, oh that’s the way all virgins look the first time, but don’t worry, you won’t ever see that again. I was so ashamed. I had done something that I knew inside was wrong.

I stared through the window barely breathing. Soon I saw that man standing up. He was looking down at her like mind did with me. He helped her up and the two walked off.

When he got done with me he didn’t help me up. He just smoked while I tried to paste myself back together. Once I was standing up he gave me a quick peck on the cheek and we walked towards our homes. At the corner he waved goodbye and we parted.

As I watched the two walk hand in hand I wept. I blew my nose on the hankie tucked inside my sleeve. I was weeping for that girl and the girl I once was. I prayed a silent prayer that her life had not just been ruined.

You know, I never saw him again after that night. I did write him a letter months later when I had our baby boy, but he never answered back. I was alone. I had made a big mistake. I had believed in a dream full of words. It changed everything. My parents did the best they knew for me. I kept my baby and learned to be a mommy. Life was rough until I met Russell. Now, years later, my son is a grown man, married and has a family of his own. I got a good man who I am  pretty sure loves me. I was one of the lucky ones.eye crying

Weekly Writing Challenge; Living History


DP Challenge, DPrightnow, http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/10/14/writing-challenge-history/

What can you write about? It can be a conversation or a protest you took part in, or a recent development that made an impact (negative or positive) on your life. It can be something that happened in your town, or news from far away that moved you. The important thing is that it’s your story, your insight. Background detail is important, but what really matters is your voice, your opinion, your way of thrusting yourself, Forrest Gump-like, into the center of the news reel.

God bless America. Land that I love. Stand beside her and guide her through the night.

These are the words of our country. We show how proud we are of where we live.

But there is no perfect life. God never promised life would be easy. There really is no bed of roses. We are dreamers. We dream of a better land. We want our children to have it better than we did.

Have you ever really thought of those words that go around in our head? What was it that was so bad in our life that we have to give our kids something better? The way I look at it what our kids need is exactly what most of us got growing up, love.

I can’t say that every kid got this. Like I said, life is not perfect, but I can wish that all kids were treated with respect and love, nurtured into fine adults. We lived from the land. We grew our own meat, or before that we hunted for game. We fished from our waters.

We planted seeds. We tended to the fields with love and pride. We harvested and we had Thanksgiving with our entire family, giving thanks and realizing our blessings.

I don’t care what technology is waiting to be scooped up on your corner it can’t replace love. In fact, there are many kids in families today that spend their together time at the supper tables apart, either physically or mentally.

Kids spend so much of their time texting and no one today can leave home without their cell phones. Is it any wonder families drift apart. Friends don’t see each other as often. The mail boxes are empty?

Today, on the news here there was a prime example of a man who loved his country. He cherished his wife and kids. He worked the land. He was known as that one word that is becoming extinct to our younger generation. He was known as a farmer.

Today, God knew something we didn’t know. No one guessed it, but God knew this wonderful man was tired and needed a break. God used the love of this man’s hands with his own farm machinery  and formed an accident that took his life and sent him directly to heaven, into God’s arms.

It is tragic, it saddened me and I wept. The world is full of we must go here and we have to go there. We have to have this, we can’t be left out.

But for this man his time was up. A hero in our lands, a soul who denied the now world.

Today, he is with God looking down, smiling upon each of us. History played out over and over, starting with the forbidden fruit, that was grown in God’s ground with his own two hands.forbidden fruitharvester 2

Weekly Writing Challenge; A Pinch of You


http://dailypost.wordpress.com, #DP Challenge

Here is my recipe for life, made entirely from me.

 

Take 2 tsp. of tummy over hang

Add to this two light-blue eyes

One small nose

Add some locks of streaked hair

Stir well together and add:

1 cup compassionate heart

2 cups of loveterry march9 2012

1 cup of sifted words

3/4 cup of tears

1/2 tsp. of questions

1/8 cup of sorrow

1/4 cup of sadness

Stir these all together. After there are no lumps or bubbles left, place in the refrigerator to chill. This keeps every ingredient fresh, never allowing it to go stale.

When you want or need some compassion and love, take out the needed amount. Cover the remaining batter until needed the next time.

Your finished product should look like the photo above. I hope you enjoy it and get many smiles in return. Thank-you for looking over my recipe.