Weekly Writing Challenge: DNA Analysis
Your challenge is to…
Weekly Writing Challenge: DNA Analysis
Your challenge is to…
Your challenge is to take something intensely personal — the bits and pieces that make you YOU — and use them as a springboard for a post that makes a larger point and resonates with lots of other readers.
When you see my face, maybe you see a round, chubby face. Not very many wrinkles. Maybe a pudgy nose surrounded by short hair. A nice sister, a caregiver.
Pools of memories
Deep as the sea
You see in my past
And where I am meant to be.
When I look in the mirror I am disgusted. I see a fat, round face. Plain with usually no make-up. I see would haves and should haves. I end up comparing myself to some dorky model on the cover of a magazine or TV.
When I look at me
I wish for more
I wish for magic
To change my core.
It is crazy, the things I do. The thoughts I have. I don’t take the time to make that check list of what I see very often. Usually when I do, I go on a spending spree and try to make myself feel better.
Knowing why I feel this way about myself is opposite of knowing how to fix it. When you friends make comments on my blog, most of the time I am shocked, pleasingly shocked. I just don’t see it.
When I read the Freshly Pressed I know that I am not a deep thinker. I don’t pull things out of my hat to write about or make a statement. My life is my statement. If I just write about my deep feelings about what I do in my life, it makes me feel more content.
Being honest on paper is much easier than looking back at my reflection in any mirror. No one is looking at me and it is so easy to write my thoughts. Sometimes I want to kick myself in the rear for being a foolish old woman for thinking such negative thoughts. There is no sense in it. But old habits and old words still haunt me today.
What I am doing is taking a segment from your comments and saying them to myself; changing my thoughts. I am improving, and for this I am glad. So on that report card, I will give me a big check mark on the box marked; Improving.
If you had to choose between being able to write a blog (but not read others’) and being able to read others’ blogs (but not write your own), which would you pick? Why?
This is a difficult position to be in. I love reading blogs as much as I love writing them. Being placed in a corner with my thinking hat on, I am now being forced to choose.
Although, I love making new friends;having new friends, I have to choose writing. The reason being is healing. I am pretty much alone in my home. This causes one of two things. I can either talk to myself and answer my own thoughts, or I can write and heal.
It sill isn’t quite a complete puzzle. The healing comes from writing and the comments made by other friends and bloggers. Could I heal while only writing? While thinking this over, the answer could be yes.
I can use it as an example. If you are so mad at someone, or have been hurt terribly, you can write. After completing the letter, you can go back and read it. You can store it and read it again later. You can save it, and maybe by reading it again, you can heal the mouth that can wound others. I have done this just today. I have placed it in my save box, to read later. I will try to heal thy self without hurting others.
I have another prospect to also heal without reading others blogger and receiving their comments. What is the answer here? It is tried and true. Speak to God. Let God know your hurts, your desires, your pain. Let him guide you through your words. I guarantee if you let him lead your fingers it will work! When you have written the letter, you can go back and read. You will see God’s answer to your problem. The glory of this is that it is too easy. We are always looking for other ways to heal. We go to friends, co-workers, parents, spouses. The whole time we are running around telling everyone, we could have spotted the answer, staring us in the face.
So with this challenge being written, I have to say I would continue to write and have God sitting here by my side, guiding my fingers all the way. The sad note added here is, I would miss my friends, who are now a part of my family, terribly.
A sanctuary is a place you can escape to, to catch your breath and remember who you are. Write about the place you go to when everything is a bit too much.
This is a difficult topic for me. I am sitting here staring at the screen, trying to think where I go to when I am stressed.
For so many years, I have kept my stress and my thoughts with me. Caring for my brother this last year, was even worse. There was no escape. He and I were under the same roof 24/7. He would go to his room and watch television; I would run to the internet.
I realize now that I am looking back. I have made a habit of writing. I write to relieve stress. I write when I am lonely, happy, want to share with my friends. I guess I sink my feelings into white empty pages.
It is good though. I have made wonderful friends. No one else could visit other countries all over the world, and never leave your seat. I have friends of all ages. I can have the television on, and when I start writing, I am able to tune out every noise, and live within my thoughts.
Many of you do not realize how you have saved me. Tears, frustrations, sadness, desperation are a few names that I have come to know. Placing Al in a facility so that he can get more help, was the hardest thing I have had to do in years. Guilt, loneliness, sorrow, regrets are all feelings I recognized.
Now he has been in his new home for a few weeks, and I have ventured outside of my four walls, and see that the world is still moving. The air is still wonderful to breath in. The squirrels are still playing in my trees.
The internet and my blog here at WordPress have become my best friend. It happened so easily, that I wasn’t even aware of what was happening. So, a big thank-you, for giving me a safe haven. A place to run to, a place to bring me back to sanity. May the lord bless you all.
Write an entire post without using any three-letter words.
This is going to be a very hard thing to do
Writing a blog with no three letter words.
I have to enforce my very aged brain and even some.
So I don’t sound like I have come totally undone.
What makes it worse is my brain is so cold
I just came back inside from letting Polly leak
I made my coffee, I’m waiting to drink
My eyes continue to want to remain half asleep.
So here I am placed with a drink inside me
Wracking my brain over this daily prompt
Polly is whining because of wanting to play
So I have to stop writing so Polly won’t stray.
She had tricked him before, breaking his heart, and stealing his virginity, only to leave him standing alone in the dark.
He had fought depression over a figure of his imagination, drawing the wildness out of him and pouring it into hidden desires. He had started out reading the books, and looking at magazines, and ventured farther into dreams of wild ecstasy. He had crossed paths between dreams and reality and let it take over his waking and sleeping hours.
He hadn’t realized it had gone too far, until the doctor announced that he was in a deep depression and he had to seek help to figure out why he had this obsession with bad girls. He realized something was wrong, when he had started to lose weight, and wanted to sleep more than his usual night-time hours. It had begun to affect his work performance and had been verbally reprimanded by his boss, to get his shit in order. This was no place to goof off, he was not going to pay him for no work.
He made an appointment with a doctor who would help him sort out his evil desires and to figure out why he felt this way and how to get help to lay it to rest. It took several months of meeting twice weekly to come to the realization that this was his imagination being worked, and none of this was real.
He went to his best friend, who he had confided as much as he knew to, and the friend asked him if he would like to go to church with him one Sunday. He didn’t jump up and say yes, but because it was his best friend, he did consent to go the following Sunday.
At church the sermon was on the devil’s work, and how Satan could wiggle his way into a human’s conscience and have his way with him. Convincing him that the only way to live in the world was through Satan himself.
He sat and listened, and after church was over, he and his best friend, talked to the minister about the problems he was having. The minister asked him if he had ever accepted Jesus Christ to be his savior, and the boy said no. The minister went on to explain how Christ was the only answer to fighting off the devil.
After much talk, the two boys thanked the minister and went out the doors of the church.The two didn’t speak much about what had been said inside the church doors and went on to talk about the following weeks activities.
That night, as the boy slept, she came to him once again, inviting him to be with her. She would feel his wildest fantasies, please come to her, follow her. He could hear her whispers in his ear, even as he was sleeping.
He woke up startled at the reality, and felt his clothes that were soaked with sweat. He was afraid and he wanted this to stop. He didn’t want to live like this anymore. He got out of bed and kneeled on his knees at the bed side, and asked the Lord to come live in his heart.
He poured out his fears and his need to be free of this evil over taking him. He cried as he called out to God to heal him, and stay with him and never let this evil speak to him again in any form.
He felt a quietness come over him, and his sweat was dried with God’s hands. He was picked up by the arms of Jesus, and cleansed with the blood of Christ. A heaviness was lifted, and he felt a peace flow through his veins. God gently laid him back down on his bed, and covered him with his blessings and love. God took his fingers and closed the boy’s eye lids and sleep was brought upon him. After this night, the evil dreams never appeared again, and God had even made sure there were no memories left to arise ever again.