I’m pissed, and I’m not going to take it anymore.
Oh sure, I talk about punching people in the face. All the freaking time. And I have a forceful, f-bomb heavy way of expressing myself, but the reality is my bark is one hundred times worse than my bite. I’m a cupcake, a marshmallow, a pansy, a total wuss, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get mad as hell. And my favorite person to be pissed at? Give you three guesses. Oh yeah, you got it. Me.
So what the fuck have I done now to piss myself off? Plenty, and typically this would be the part where I would rant, quite spectacularly, about the bazillion stupid things I’ve done, haven’t done, said or haven’t said. Blah fucking blah fucking blah.
Buuuut, the older, wiser me (yep, just had a birthday) is attempting to practice what I preach, so I’m taking Kay’s advice and I’m rewriting my personal story. Old storyline – I’m a cupcake, a marshmallow, a pansy, a total wuss. The truth? I’m a cupcake, a marshmallow, a pansy, a total wuss in a lot of areas, but I have a streak of strength, too. I just need to learn to tap it, and that is a daily struggle. Old storyline – I’m a pathetic loser who has so much, but somehow that is never enough. The truth? I’m blessed in so many ways, but that doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes get depressed. The greater truth? Blessed people are allowed to get depressed, and being blessed doesn’t diminish the depth or the reality of that depression.
So while I was all deep into this introspection, I also took my own advice and reached out to family and friends. I told them what was going on with me, and asked for help. And frankly, I’ve been floored by the response. With support, in two days I’ve accomplished more than I did in the past seven days and the funk is lifting. Better still, I’m pushing aside the pissed off part of myself that is so damn good at beating me up, and I’m looking forward to the less angry, softer me on the other end. F-bombs notwithstanding.
And I’m writing again.
Lorinda Peake wrote her first ditty when she was ten on an English seashore while visiting her British grandmother. From then on, her family either acted in or were treated to plays, skits, or commercial spoofs. In school, she wrote poetry, fables and short stories.
Years later, she tossed down a particularly bad novel and thought, “I could do at least that well.” She’s been pursuing the elusive published novel ever since. Recently, she joined a group of fellow writers who decided to cajole, bully, encourage, and sometimes baby each other along towards the publishing goal by setting real and measurable writing objectives with “motivational” consequences for non-attainment.
Lorinda loves a good romance – all the more if it is wrapped in a great fantasy setting. She lives on the Texas Gulf Coast with her husband of 34 years.