I have been lost in thinking lately. Keeping my headphones tuned to music, my mind takes a full rap sheet of my personal hits and misses for 2020. Music helps me dissociate, removing myself from the noise of the everyday life in my chaotic family.
Escaping from the unending questions from my 14 year old, the teenage angst from my 15 year old, my partner’s obsession with Tik Tok.
In many ways 2020 was a miss. It was a miss for most Americans. It exasperated whatever marginalization or challenges each person was already experiencing. My writing took off in the Spring and then stalled, or at least I stalled.
Remote learning for my disabled fourteen year old son was a joke. He spent most of the year out of school and in my face asking questions related to his whatever obsession.
Distractions were at an all time high, and distractions kill writing. At least for me.
I took a part time job as an essential worker, only to discover that my early onset Osteoarthritis made the physical demands of the job too difficult. I moved into a more expensive apartment in an already expensive rental market in Seattle.
Money worries had me waking up at two in the morning.
I missed my father, who passed away five years ago. I spent wasted time recollecting about past mistakes, unrequited love, and embarrassing decisions. My mental health was visibly showing. I was overstretched and overwhelmed.
I was also incredibly lucky. Fortunate for a partner with a stable work at home job. Fortunate to have remained relatively unscathed this particular year from COVID, or from another challenging life trauma.
This left me plenty of time to think about my work as a writer, how it has failed my expectations and what needs to be better in 2021.
I write a lot of confessional blogs. Confessional blogs are the easiest for me to write and edit in what is often an interrupting environment. I don’t have to think about the story, or where it’s going. I already know the story. It’s mine.
How to Live With Admitting Your 4 Year Old to a Psychiatric Hospital
Survival for any parent should never mean giving up your child to be institutionalized
I’m good at processing and writing about overwhelming feelings. I’ve had many challenging experiences and survived. I could confess my sins daily, and blog about it successfully. Stories for the ages of the often oppressed and underexposed.
I hate marketing. The social media experience is difficult for me to entangle. I am an introvert, but beyond isolating and social awkwardness, I am just uncomfortable on camera. I don’t like it, and that transcends through and disengages my potential group of readers. It feels disingenuous.
I lost my job as an essential worker on December 31st, and the timing of this felt more than consequential.
It felt like 2021 was opening up to me and guiding me towards a new direction. One that feels scary, and financially unsound, but also a dirty and sexy dream that remains unfulfilled.
I started writing, again. Doing so meant starting from scratch, mostly, but writing manages to embrace me fulfilled and happy. It’s one of the things by which I am confident, and I feel most excited and free while in action.
I have spent a millennia searching for freedom. Freedom to escape, freedom to roam, freedom to explore, even if only from my couch. I always yearned to feel free, unrestricted in time and place. The best day is without a schedule. Schedules kill the joy ride.
Permanently disengaged and uncommitted. Strangely a goal, oddly right in front of me all this time. I am going to grasp this commodity and suck it dry for all it’s worth.
I am going to explore the opportunity for freedom. Potentially rising me to a new level of happiness. Happiness, a truly elusive mistress for me. Lest I forget time is not on my side, may the remainder of my time be glowing off my skin in a forecast of serenity.
Meaning, I am going to write my ass off. Full time. Like, for a living.
This year the focus will be on moving beyond confessional blogs to excellent storytelling. My voice can still be strong in storytelling. I am also trying to query my novel. You can find pieces of it on medium.
I’d Love To Change the World
After a whole bunch of people died from the rash, the war started.
Freedom is a sticky experience. It can be freeing, but like a roller coaster, it can also be terrifying in anticipation of the unknown downhill ride. Will it be exciting, or will it leave me scattered and filled with anxiety. Will it be over quickly, or will I have time to enjoy the ride.
Freedom is the goal for 2021. Despite the gripping and physically painful anxiety (oh, the irony!)
I am also on a journey for justice. A fairer world that allows others to explore their personal freedoms. It is not an ideal for the young, it is a reality in the world we live now. Progress is sometimes slow, and patience can be short, but it’s not impossible.
Bringing more people into the living and breathing beyond existence takes time, but is well worth the journey. Incredible people, like all of us can be in our imperfect ways.
Welcome to a year of storytelling: Freedom, Justice, and most importantly, Contentment.