What is family?

Family is not caring for each other unconditionally.

It is however, deciding that they’ve helped to much.

I’m not going to enable you any more.

Well, thanks because

I have narcolepsy

I’m a survivor of abuse

I guess I’m not important

I guess my dreams are silly

What I have achieved is nothing.

I thought that family was there to help you soar.

No, they are there to cut you down.

I just realized some things about my family.

I just realized I no longer want them around.

It was a subtle poison.

One I didn’t know existed.

Now, I’m on the hunt for help.

I’m on the quest to seek help from strangers.

Because family judges but doesn’t care.

Family blames me for everything.

Even though they say they don’t.

Actions speak louder than words.

I want to flee but I’ve gotten stuck.

No way out.

I’m spiralling downward and there is no help.

Not for someone like me.

I’m judged because I didn’t do the normal things.

Like get married and have kids.

I sought more and so I fell deeper.

Pain is a thing that eats me from the inside out.

On being a big sister

It’s all or nothing. Most of the time I’m not a big sister. Instead, I am off in my own little world. It’s easier that way. If I’m not a big sister then I don’t have to think about how I’ve missed watching my siblings grow up. For as long as I can remember I told myself that once I was rich and successful then I’d be there for my siblings. Once x,y,z and then I’d be there for them.

I’ve missed so many years. Now, it’s “oh, they don’t want to know me. They don’t need me. I’m not good enough for them.” It is such a horrible lie; but something I trapped myself in. One I’ve told myself for years; now, it is a truth I can’t seem to escape.

Except, my siblings need me.The oldest of my younger siblings has started back at school (college) and I’m so excited for him. He has to write a paper and guess who knows how to write? That would be his older sister. However, he and I are both the same in that we hate asking for help. He wanted help but wouldn’t ask for it. Instead, I offered to help him and here I am sitting in the living room writing on my blog. Speaking of which after this I need to send out emails for the American Trakehner Association. I’m here to support him, to remind him that he can do it. I’ll stay here with him until he is finished. Why? because as an older sister that is what I need to do.

It’s tough because he’s as stubborn as I am. He has his opinions and I have mine but I’ve learned how to better phrase my sentences and my ideas. I’ve learned how to be an older sister. It’s taken a while and there is still a lot more I have to learn but that’s the whole point of living- learning.

In other news: There may be some positive changes coming my way. My life is way overdue for then. I am excited and hopeful and maybe very nervous a little nervous for what is to come.

It’s a bit like preparing for an adventure- one that isn’t certain but you hope happens. I’ve packed my metaphorical bag and I’m standing on the dock bobbing up and down on the balls of my feet. On the horizon an ocean liner sits and I’m crossing my fingers; hoping I bought the right ticket.

Other ships have docked and I’ve tried to board, only to be told “Sorry, but this isn’t for you; better luck next time.” Each time I felt a little part of me die and I watched as a dream I had disappeared into the murky waters of the sea.  Oh, how I hope I don’t lose this last hope. I hope that this is the adventure I’ve been looking for.

The Season of Love is Waning

I’ve been a bit quiet lately, but it hasn’t been on purpose. I miss my daily writing and talking about my woes. It seems that I’ve become so busy, living life one day to the next. So much so, that I only remember that I haven’t written as my close my eyes for the night.

This winter, one with snowstorm after snowstorm, you’d think I’d have time to pen my thoughts. Alas, you and I are wrong. I’ve been living life and it seems that I am on the cusp of a new beginning. A start to a life that has been stagnant for too long.  When I write things like that it always seems that my hope is dashed. It won’t; not this time.

For I am different. I am ready for the change.

While wandering in the wilderness of life I have found who I am. She was within me the entire time but I ignored her. I thought I would never be her. Isn’t that strange? To know who you want to be, but unable to bridge the gap? I had to let go of some layers (and I still have more I need to shed) but I am made new.

I grew up a Christian and I guess I relied on that for too long. It was a crutch I used for why I wasn’t where I wanted to be. I had to lose my religion to find myself and that realization is scary. I look around and I see people who are led by faith; I envy them but I know that my life- who I am, is different; has always been different.

It is a strange feeling- realizing that you are the person you need to trust.

Do I believe in a loving, merciful God?

I think I do but I’m not sure. I know there is a god out there. I know that life is too beautiful for it to have all been chance but I don’t relate to what I learned as a child. I am like Paul except, I am opposite.

The Marathon in My Mind

I’ve been running a mental race. A marathon to get to the finish and I thought I got there but it was just a rest point.
I pushed on and looked around. My opponents were all me. They all had that same look of grim determination. Then they all veered down different paths and I was alone.
So alone. It never bother me before. I never wondered what it would be like to not be alone. I was running but the silence in the wood is haunting.
Life isn’t lived in a vacuum even thought I tried to live it that way.
I keep on messing up without realizing. In short, I’m a horrible poker player.

Oh, but what does this have to do with anything? I put my resume up and I got a couple of bites. One at a company I’ve heard of. One that sings of good money. I then looked up their employee reviews and I’m leery about going to an interview.
I’m tired of running from one path to the next. Tired of trying to figure where I am supposed to go. I’m tired of looking around hoping he appears only to be disappointed. I don’t want to make all of these decisions alone. I can but I don’t want to.

I heard him call me
In the deepest of sleeps
I ran to him
He was mist in the forest

No matter how I searched
He was gone
A forgotten memory
Oh, how my heart aches.

The inner horse – and your fictional character’s true nature

This is why horses and writing go well together.

Nail Your Novel

Lifeform Three Roz MorrisI was teaching a masterclass at The Guardian yesterday and we were discussing characters. One of my students said this:
‘I think of my characters as horses.’

To be honest, I couldn’t believe my ears. If you know me on Facebook and Twitter, you’ll know I’m rather fond of the equine breed, so when one of my students said ‘I think of my characters as horses’, I thought I was still in bed at home, waiting for the alarm.

Not as mad as it seems

But she went on to explain. She ran a carriage-driving centre, and found that all of her horses were such different temperaments they were a great basis for building fictional characters.

Stay with me here, because it makes glorious sense. One of the fundamentals of a character is what they’re like in the core of their soul, the things they can’t fake or change. Whether…

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