Day 73

Day 73 of the 365 Day Gratitude Challenge.

I’m grateful it’s day 73. And I am grateful for changes.

Earlier today, I wrote this story as part of the prompts. I worked really hard on it and I thought I was being clever. That’s my problem. I was thinking. 

Well someone made a comment on it, and with comments like that, usually more are to follow because you’re often looking at the comments in order to find something to say.

I stopped writing my chapter stories. And I made this story 100 words precisely. They call it a drabble.

So I’m thinking I’m a shitty writer and I’ll never amount to anything writing wise in this world.

I will be moving away from Blogophilia. Not that I was popular on there to begin with. I’m grateful for new beginnings.

I’m a little sad right now. I’m hoping sleep will help.



Mandy’s World: Several Things

Mandy doesn’t know what’s wrong with her anymore.  She sets out to do things and never seems to finish what she’s trying to accomplish.  Instead, she is sitting at her kitchen table, drinking her coffee.

One.  She was looking through her camcorder to find some old video journals she had made from last year.  She remembers last year very well.  She was keeping an exercise journal, and recording my measurements.  She did the best she could with a recovering sprained foot.  But then it all ended.  The journals stopped when she had to go for eye surgery.  she thought she rid herself of those painful memories from her camera, but sometimes, the Universe likes to surprise you and remind you of bad times.

Two.  She saw a post where she was trying to make a tutorial on how to turn some jumper thing into a dress.  She thought it was a dress to begin with.  In the camera, she didn’t look too fat.  Though she did notice when she was talking, she had the double chin thing going on for her.  Which only tells her she’s being too lazy to pick her head up more.

Three.  She’s been wanting to get some sun.  As well as been wanting to exercise more.  She can do the yoga, and walking on the treadmill is easy, she just needs more time…or a TARDIS.  Since she got herself a part-time job, she’s had a hard time juggling all this work.  Mandy also has a husband who is sick and on kidney dialysis…That’s a story for another time.

Four.  Mandy’s been wanting to get back into the creative business again.  She wants to make her crafts again, and she thinks she may be ready to sketch or paint something.  She’s not sure or ready just yet.  She needs to stop going online as it only produces more sadness and trouble for her.  She just want to be happy and live through the characters she creates.  Nothing more.  She wants to go back to being happy after.  She’s been there once before….She thinks she could get there again.  She need to meditate more perhaps, and be on the internet less.

Five.  She see clothing and dresses she likes online or in stores and She knows.  Mandy knows she’ll never look right in that type of clothing.  She’s too fat or too “curvy” as others would refer to her.  These models are young and skinny.  Real people are not that young wearing these clothes.  Real people are not that skinny.  We are all different shapes and sizes, Mandy thinks.  Yet they make her feel like she’s less than the nothing she already is.  You start to feel confident until you look at yourself in the mirror….And then…It’s all downhill from there.

Six.  There might not be a six.  If there was a six, she’s forgotten it already.  The phone kept ringing in the house, or the dogs kept on barking, or the bird was squawking enough to distract her.  So maybe she’ll save the six for another time.  She didn’t even make it to seven, which she guesses that’s a good thing, right?

Mandy’s not blocked writing-wise.  She just feels lazy going about it.  Like descriptions.  Why does she need to describe what someone looks like?  You should be able to draw your own conclusions to what someone looks like….And if you ever had a chance to get your writing turned into a TV series or a movie–which is like a fat chance in hell, by the way–the characters are always going to be skinny and of the white race.  They won’t be Jewish like her.  They won’t be curvy or olive toned like her.  They won’t have unbelievably curly hair like her.  So what’s the point of describing someone in a story?

OK, so maybe Mandy made it to six.

Written by ©Diana Jillian 9/29/15


Have you ever had depression say to you, “Psst!  Hey!  Let’s end it all!”  And you think to yourself, Yeah!  That would be a great idea!

But as always, logic comes in and says, “But how will you do it?  Hanging sounds painful, and you could still be alive.  So is shooting yourself.  Sleeping pills sounds good, but when will you be able to take them without freaking out everyone?  I mean, do you want them to find you dead, or in the hospital after you’ve had your stomach pumped?  What if there really is a God, and it is frowned upon to kill yourself?  What if there is an afterlife, and you only get punished even more than you’re being punished now?”

Logic never shuts up.  He/She keeps on going.  “And who will take care of your dogs and bird?  Who will make sure the husband doesn’t drive himself off a cliff after dialysis with a blood pressure reading of 80 over 15?   Does he even know what pills he needs to take?  Cholesterol?  Blood Pressure?  Anti-Depressants?  Does he know how to use the insulin pen?”

He/She doesn’t stop there.  “And what about your son?  Yeah, sure he’s 18…Almost 19 now.  But he forgets to take his shots.  He still needs someone to kick him in the butt and remind him to keep plugging at it for his high school diploma, because that’s important.”

Depression says nothing.

Love steps in and says, “Yes, no one will be able to take care of them, but that’s why depression is there.  Depression is around because Self isn’t taking care of itself.”

Alright, so there’s this whole battle going on inside my head.  Everyone thinks they know what’s best for me, but I’m the one that has to have the best judgment.

Last night was pretty bad. I had a rotten day, and then my husband was joking around with me.  Instead of laughing, I cried.  I CRIED!!!

Today, I told someone I’d work for them, but I had no idea they would pull these last-minute conditions on me.  Now I have to pick up kids in an un-air-conditioned bus!!!!  To top it off, the building still has no air.

So yeah, it’s depressed me.  And then I think I can go to my one and only salvation online…only to find out the notifications aren’t even for me.

It’s not anything really, but for me, it was the icing on the cake.

What’s even worse is I have to get up very early in the morning….And I’m wasting my time venting on a blog rather than writing the story I have in my head…And for what?  Because I’m hurt, and no one cares.

No one wants to hear you complain.  It’s so funny, because all I do is hear EVERYONE in my life complain…But when I do it, no one wants to hear it…

So here’s to another blog that goes ignored…