Writer's Block

In my much younger years, I first heard the term 'writer's block.' I assumed that a writer's block was an implement used for writing, like a quill pen or an inkwell. Perhaps archaic and definitely not used currently (at least by anyone I knew), but certainly necessary for writing. It must be a rectangular object that sits on a desk and serves some purpose in the writing process. Or, my imagination surmised, it could be a special seat used for writing - a block that you sit upon. I wondered if I would ever get one. Unfortunately I have not yet acquired a physical 'writer's block,' but I certainly have lots of the conceptual kind.

I don't actually have writer's block, because I am not a writer.  That's right. I'm not a famous person with published novels who gets paid to write.  I don't even aspire to be someone like that. Those people are highly intelligent, supremely motivated, and generally brilliant. I'm just a silly girl who enjoys writing as a hobby. It's not my job. It's nothing serious. It's just a way to maintain my sanity in this crazy, ever changing world. I write to process my thoughts. To examine each event that has occurred in my life, compare it to past experiences, and seek the meaning behind it. I only started this blog because my handwriting is too awful for a paper diary,  . . . and because I do too much editing.

So as I sit here contemplating the half-dozen half finished blog posts I'm stuck on, I can't have writer's block. I'm just still working on them.  And when I realized that my best posts tend to be about what's on my mind, I also realized that what I'm actually thinking about is writing.  I know that's getting a little 'meta' for some people, but hey, you guys have stuck with me this far on my writing journey.  So I thought I'd take a minute to share a bit of the process.

The Idea
Most of my blog posts are born as in idea in my crazy mind. I ruminate on it for a few hours or a few days and mull over ideas and angles.  Then finally, it hits me!  I see the perfect way to approach a subject, or find the perfect quote to introduce a topic, or stumble across the perfect example to illustrate a concept.

The Draft
Then I dash for my computer and frantically commit my musings to text. It usually comes out in a burst and my husband often asks what I'm so excited about as I attack my keyboard. I may also ignore food, kids, pets, or nuclear explosions caused by a toddler in my living room when I am writing the first draft. My single focus is to get the 'meat' of the post onto the screen.

The Edits
While I write I pay attention to spelling and some grammar, but mostly it's about content. I never publish anything the day I write it. I have to get away, sleep on it, and seek other eyes before I consider it finished. As I re-read my posts, I edit for flow and clarity. I rarely need to massively re-write, but I often find myself filling in additional details or removing superfluous ones. I consider my audience (parents, Magic judges, friends) for each post and try to keep it relevant. Once I am comfortable with it, I ask someone else (usually my husband) to read it before I publish it. Another person's perspective can be difficult to hear sometimes, but it adds a lot to the final product.

The Finishout
My final steps before publication are to make it look the way I want it to look. I add formatting such as bold or italics. I add links to relevant content. I insert pictures if the post needs them. I preview the post to ensure that things came out the way I intended them to.  I add the tags that create the searchable categories for each post. Then, finally, I hit the 'publish' button. There's always a feeling of completeness that accompanies that button. As a completionist, it's the best part. My final step is to head over to facebook and add a post introducing the blog post, since most of my readers enter my blog that way.  (I do hope to skip that step at some point in the future, but for now, I'll go with what works.)

So it's funny, writing about writing. I started out frustrated because my ideas wouldn't come, and now I've filled up this page with passion and a post that I'm excited to share with you.  So you see I didn't have writer's block at all; I was just writing about the wrong stuff.

Apology Accepted

What are the most powerful words anyone has ever spoken to you?

Many years ago, I played a video game called World of Warcraft. I served as the leader of a group of 30-35 guys who played together in a pretty tight-knit group. In truth, I was the 'mom' figure to this bunch as well as the personnel manager.  I hand selected each member and handled all their concerns, complaints, and needs in terms of playing the game, as well as being a personal friend/confidant to many of them.  When it came to actual gameplay, I employed a Raid Leader (or dad figure) to bark the orders and get things done.  Our roles fit together nicely and while I wore the 'Guild Leader' tag, we led as a team.  All of our Guild Leader/Raid Leader discussions, disagreements, and flat out arguments privately never spilled over to the raid.  In front of the guys, we presented a unified front and stood behind one another's decisions. 

One of my Raid Leaders was a guy who went by the name Zygore.  He was a funny redhead from Kansas City who had served as Guild Leader in the past, but real life had taken him away for a time and then he returned as my Raid Leader. We worked together well, and we played 'good cop/bad cop' exceptionally. Most of the time we were on the same page seamlessly, but when we weren't . . .  well, there were fireworks. 

After one particularly bad explosion, I offered him an apology. Now that's pretty hard to do in the first place, swallow your pride and say "I'm sorry." Additionally, a true apology includes an admission of guilt, a request for forgiveness, and a promise that it won't happen again. I expected him to really let me have it at that point (and I would have deserved it), but instead he simply said, "Apology accepted."  Then he moved the conversation on to the next topic we needed to discuss. While the opportunity to bring up my mistake presented itself multiple times, he never did. NEVER. He never again brought up that issue. Never made me feel guilty. Never chided me about that mistake. Never reminded me not to do it again. It's as if it vanished. We both moved on with cool heads and clear hearts. I also never forgot that moment. Funny thing, I can't remember what I apologized for, but I will never forget the feeling of that forgiveness. 

Not too long later he made a mistake - a big one. He breached the integrity of the game in a way that was counter to our guild's values. And he did it in front of everyone and then laughed it off. I felt (understandably) furious. I debated kicking him out of the group. Later that night, I unloaded on him. (Not my finest moment.) He started to defend his unconscionable action, but then stopped, and apologized. He outlined a plan to make things right that included a public explanation and apology to the guild. A part of me wanted to nail him to the wall, but luckily I recognized the opportunity to offer forgiveness.  "Apology accepted." Accepting that apology did not change the plan to right the wrong or the consequence that came with his action. And he willingly accepted that consequence.  What it did do was allow us to move on without malice between us. I later marveled at the freedom I felt in not holding a grudge or being mad at him. 

It's been at least 6 years since that conversation, but those words still heal. When I struggled with forgiving my first husband for issues in our marriage, that same model of forgiveness and acceptance helped me recover and move on with my life. When things at work went insanely bad, I learned to let go and not hold grudges. 

This week, someone close to me hurt me. I'll not go into detail because the details aren't relevant.  He would never intentionally hurt me in any way.  He made a decision that I ultimately agreed with, but the result didn't turn out the way either of us had hoped. When I expressed my frustration over the situation, the temptation to blame him danced in my head.  I refrained. And later, he apologized. A simple, sincere apology.  "Apology accepted."  The relief washed over me.  I let go of my anger, my hurt, and my frustration.  Those words turned what could have be an angry fight into an opportunity for us to share our feelings and work through the situation together.  Skipping the blame and the pain freed us to spend our time healing the hurt rather than dwelling on it.  That painful experience has brought us closer together.

So I'd like to share a challenge with you, my readers. The next time someone apologizes to you, try accepting their apology. Not with questions. Not while demanding an explanation. Not if you are secretly planning to get them back for it later.  Really, truly, accept their apology and let yourself release the pain and the hurt. Instead focus on the steps to rectify the situation and move on from the incident together. I hope you'll find it as powerful as I have.

"Apology accepted."
The most powerful words

Migraine

Pain. Pain.

My head is in pain.

Stabbing right behind my right eye.

Run to the bathroom . . . again.  Sick.

Bloated, achey. Pain.

Curl up in bed. With an icepack on my face. Can't move. don't move. Moving hurts.

Relief starts to wash over me as I drift off to  . . .

Baby cries. Pain. Noise. Pain. Movement. Pain.

Husband gets baby.

Settle down again. Pull covers up. Pain.

Try to relax.

Not . . . going . . . to  . . . be  . . . sick.
Willpower.
Stay in bed.
Not going to be sick.
Pain.

Start to drift off.
Cat meows.
Cat won't shut up.
Husband quiets cat.

Pain.  Stabbing in my eye. Move icepack.

Finally escape to sleep.

Not a real sleep. Not a restful sleep.
A state of unconscious blackness. A deep, dark place. It swallows me whole and consumes me. Never want to leave.

Baby crying. Nap is over.

Sit up to get baby. Pain. Tears roll down my face.

Stand up. Wobble. Hold nightstand.

Toddle to bathroom. Stomach heaves.

Wash face.

Trudge upstairs to get baby.

His sweet face makes everything worthwhile.
Smile. Coo. Change diaper. Try to pretend I'm ok.
Tears stream. Baby doesn't know.

Take baby downstairs. Make bottle. Load car.

Thank husband.
(Without him I would never survive these days.)

Pain stabs my every move.

Drive to preschool. Pick up 4 kids. Smile at teachers. Make small talk. Load kids, and lunches, and backpacks.

Drive to loud, brightly lit, obnoxious hair salon. Wish for a spa. Remember promise to kids regarding hair salon. Drag self from car. Unload baby. Unload kids. More pain. More tears. Manage to keep it together to go inside.

Kids have a blast. I try to survive the experience. Wish for an out of body experience.

Finally leave.

Load kids. Load baby. Get in car and cry. Pain, nausea, exhaustion, overwhelmed.

Explain to 4 year old why I am crying. "Mommy doesn't feel good."  She suggests that we go to the doctor. Thank 4 year old for her concern.

Drive to botanic garden for preschool class.  Pain.

Spend an hour outside in brightly lit noisy place with large group of preschoolers. Try to make small talk with other moms. Feed baby bottle. Baby does not want to be put down. Thank nice garden club ladies for doing crafts with my kids. Receive live crickets to take home.

Pain. Take kids to restroom. Go in stall alone to be sick.

Recapture escaped cricket.

Make it to car. Pain. Collect crickets to hold until we get home.

Take niece and nephew home. Hang out with kids and brother-in-law while kids eat suckers I forgot I promised them.

Release crickets in garden.

Make it home. Husband is there with open arms. And dinner. Husband is the best.

Husband puts kids to bed.
Husband tells me to go to bed.
Husband washes bottles and cleans kitchen.

Husband is the best.

Wake up sick at 1am.

Husband gets fresh ice pack.

Cry myself back to sleep trying to escape the pain.
It won't leave.
Can't sleep.

Write blog post.

If you've never experienced a migraine, please understand that is has been miscategorized as a headache.  It is not an "ache in the head." It is an all consuming full body pain. It includes the feeling of being stabbed in the eye repeatedly. And the forehead. And the neck. And the aches of the flu. And bloating, gas, nausea, diarrhea, vomiting, and heartburn. It comes with a level of hormone/emotional disturbance that makes you cranky, and weepy, and irritable, and confused. The visual disturbances are scary. The level of exhaustion compares to what I assume you feel after running a marathon then taking a sedative - you can't snap out of it. And it sometimes lasts for days. The pain comes in waves, with periods so intense that moving is out of the question and periods that it might be just a headache, but it never really leaves. There is no relief until it runs its course.

If it weren't for the love and support of my family, I'd never get through these days. From my children's sweet compassion to the purring cat in my lap, almost everyone who knows me has been touched by my migraines.  I fear 'migraine days.' I never know what they will ruin.

My husband deserves better. He deserves a wife who can keep up with her chores. Who can take care of the kids. Who doesn't fall apart emotionally. Who isn't constantly being sick. He didn't sign up for this. He signed up for a wife who could hold her end of the bargain. Who could cover his weaknesses with her strength. Who could help make him a better man.

LOVE. He loves me. Even when my speech comes in bursts and pieces because the pain makes it too hard to think of the words. He's there for me. His strong arms wrap around me and he tells me that it will be ok. I apologize - he shushes me. He says that this is the 'for worse' part. I never knew what love meant until I had a husband and migraines. 

Life isn't always pretty, but being able to celebrate the good and the bad, and share all those moments with the ones you love is what's truly important in life. So let go of the 'perfect life' images and enjoy all of what life has to offer. You will find good in the bad and bad in the good, so celebrate it all - together with those who mean the most to you.