A Rambling Rant Was Born

I am a busy person. On top of work and the baby, I do an amazing amount of crafty things, read, and write. Also, because I may be insane, I run a non-profit. My family, of course, helps a lot. This year has been a little more chaotic than usual, and I’ve been doing a lot of the work on my own.

In broad strokes, my family partners with a local martial arts school to delivery food and toys at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Actually, that’s not very broad. It’s exactly what we do. The building up to this point was several years in the making and a lot of drama. I’ve moved forward, and I hold no ill will any longer.

Last year, when we officially started everything, all the money came out the pockets of my parents, my younger brother, and myself. The students at the Dojo donated most of the food we needed. It was still several hundred dollars invested, though. This year, we started fundraising earlier, and I had help on everything I didn’t need help with. When it came to actually implementing the plans, everyone crapped out on me. It has been very frustrating.

It finally got to a point where my phone would chime with a notification and I yell, “What could you people possibly want me to do now?!?” Inevitably, it would be someone who needed me to do something for them, or to do the job they had assured me they could do. Which has resulted in me not being able to do what I need to do. It’s thoroughly exhausting. I have quit reading, writing, and crafting because of all the extra work. These are all things that keep me sane.

I just deleted three paragraphs of text. I didn’t want to call people out, in case they stumble across this blog. I’m not upset with them, per se. I’m just upset. I know as soon as I have that list of names in my hand, everything will be okay, and the world will be right again. But, I’ve never questioned something so hard before.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve almost said, “I quit.” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to scream, “I’m done!” This year has been rough for me. When I looked up and said, “I’m doing this with or without you.” to my parents, I never expected it to be this difficult. When they both said, “I’m in. Let’s do this.” I knew it would be okay. I knew that I was in the right.

Literally all I want to do is get and organize a list. It should not be this difficult to feed people. But it is. Usually, I enjoy the crazy planning. I live for my list every year. This year, I have had to fight all over again for what is already mine, and I don’t know why.

I’m also now rambling, and I have no way of wrapping this up gracefully. So, I’m going to go stare at a super-moon eclipse now.


That Little Genie

That’s the thing about pain. It demands to be felt.

– John Green, The Fault In Our Stars

Yes, I did just pick a random John Green quote, because I am a proud nerdfighter. No, this quote has absolutely nothing to do with today’s post on my writing space. It’s a good quote. Don’t judge it.

I write wherever I am. Most of the time that’s in my bedroom on my bed. Today, that’s on my dining room table, which has become my dad’s computer repair place. It’s not perfect, but it will do for now. During NaNoWriMo, I write on whatever is available, myself, paper, cardboard, a computer, and I’ll type everything up after a couple of days so I have the word count.

My ideal writing space would be minimal. A desk, a comfortable couch to lounge on, soft lighting and plenty of windows. I love seeing the deep green during the summer, the ice white of winter, the bright newness of spring, and the colorful death in fall. It’s the ultimate muse.

But to go back to the quote for a moment. Stubbing your toe hurts, and I don’t recommend it. That is all.


This post was published under the influence of not enough sleep and a screaming two year old. She’s not screaming at anything specific, because that would be easy.

The Key To Success… Or Not…

I am a top-notch procrastinator. It’s one of the few things I consider myself good at. I am also a creator, as a young cousin of mine likes to point out. I write. I knit a little. I sew a little. I do a little needle felting. I can do both needle and shuttle tatting. I’m teaching myself to crochet. In October, I will be learning to spin yarn. I think quickly, flitting from idea to idea and traveling down bunny trails in the blink of an eye.

However, I like to process information at a much slower rate. I don’t like making decisions in haste. Procrastination allows my anxiety ridden brain to process all of the information bombarding me, regardless of whether it’s self-imposed or not. Frankly, daydreaming is my favorite way to procrastinate period.

A Step Into The Darkness

There’s a spark of light up ahead. A break in the darkness. Relief lay beyond the light. Relief from the unrelenting torture, from the gut churning anxiety. She just needed to reach the light and jump through. Only two spans separated her from happiness. Two spans, but much grief.

Two steps forward. Two steps back. Two steps forward. Two steps back. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. Big deep breath. One step forward. NO!!! I can’t, I can’t, I CAN’T!!! ONESTEPBACK. Calm down! Calm down! Calm down! You’re okay. You’re okay. It’s okay. Calm down. Breathe. It’s okay. You’ll be okay. Try it again.

Two steps forward. Two steps back. Two steps forward. Two steps back. I can do this. I can do this! I CAN do this! Inhale through the nose. Exhale through the mouth. Inhale through the nose. Exhale through the mouth. Two steps forward. All you have to do is jump. You can do this. You’ve got this. It’s not that hard. On the count of three. One. Two. NO! NO! NO! I can’t do it. I just can’t. Two steps back. It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. You are strong. Once more.

What’s wrong with me?! Why can’t I do this? Why? Look everyone else is fine. Why aren’t you? What’s wrong with you? STOP! This isn’t helping. You are fine. You can do this. Its two steps and then a jump. You’re fine. You can do it. Big deep breath.

Two steps forward. Two steps back. Two steps forward. Two steps back. Okay. Alright. Okay. Inhale and hold it. Exhale and hold it. You can do this. Two steps forward. Wooden windowsill under my hands. Rough and scratchy. No! Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think. Big breathe. One. Two. Three.


It has taken me over 24 hours to write Day Four’s assignment. I haven’t edited it much. That window… well, it spoke to me. This is an approximation of my depression and panic attacks all rolled into one. I try to focus on the light instead of the darkness in my life. I’ve spent an hour and a half debating whether to publish this or not. I’m talked myself down from panic more times than I care to admit tonight.


I really like the way this picture looks with my background. So, I’m focusing on that, instead of the content when I hit “Publish.”

Home Is Where The Heart Is

My best friend and I, we’ve known each other since we were a year old. We lived in different counties. We went to different schools. We would randomly run into each other, sometimes going years without seeing one another, and it would be like no time had passed. A series of random events later, and we are thick as thieves once more.

About a year ago, she moved to Colorado with her husband. We talk at least once every day, and sometimes several times a day. Although… On occasion we can’t stand each other. We’ll go two or three days without talking. That’s mostly me. I’m introverted. She’s extroverted. It’s exhausting. She never lets it get past four days. Something, apparently, is wrong then. I, myself, will get into a creative fog and disappear for weeks on end, if she’d let me.

We shared an apartment for several months, until I got knocked up and moved back home. It wasn’t uncommon to find us sitting in silence, and perfectly happy to do so. As a matter of fact, when I call her on my lunch break every day we typically sit on the phone in silence, sending Pins back and forth, and giggling.

Cosmic Twins, her mother calls us, because neither set of parents could handle both of us at once. It’s a prettier name than Platonic Soulmates, which is how we usually define ourselves. We are very connected to each other in a way that’s difficult to explain. She’s my home as much as my house is. She’s more family than some of my blood relations. She’s my Luvey.

I Follow Rules

I love lists. Like, I LOVE lists. I have rather an unhealthy obsession with lists. So this assignment should be easy, right? RIGHT?!? No, of course not. I have this need to take something simple and make it complex. I have about three list and four calendars to organize my life and everyone in it. Everything is color coded in a ridiculously complicated way, and I can’t even tell you how I do it. It just happens. I spent awesome amounts of time making and unmaking multiple lists before I threw the assignment out the closest window.

Nine Things That Are Currently Happening: A List

  • My computer- Rather obvious, huh?
  • Seven open internet tabs- Really, who needs that many? And not a one of them is Netflix or Hulu. I’m disappointed in myself.
  • A disappearing bowl of cereal- Abby picked up my cereal and ran off with it, the little brat. Oh, yeah, I don’t eat cereal at breakfast. It taste much better after noon.
  • Two cats, both defective- Literally, as I’m typing this a mouse just ran in front of them, and they just watched it… Really? I mean, really? Sigh…
  • A high-heel shoe hanging out of a drawer- Don’t ask me; I don’t know.
  • A basket with melty beads and yarn- I should probably put that somewhere the baby can’t reach.
  • My phone- Abby pick-pocketed me, and I never noticed! The thief! But seriously, she does it all the time, and I never notice. I need to start locking up the money cards.
  • One dog ignoring me- “Hey, Copper! Copper! Copper! I want to love you!” No response from him.
  • An empty bubble wand- And a meltdown because I won’t refill it until after food has been consumed.

This has been Nine Things That Are Currently Happening: A List. Thanks for playing along.

Free Writing Shouldn’t Take So Long…

I am Hannah. A reader, a writer, a crafter, but most importantly, I’m a single mother just trying to survive. My life is crazy, to say the least. Between the baby, work, and organizing my yearly community service projects, I am stressed. Most of the time it’s good stress. Occasionally, I spend two days on the phone and a trip to the ER. On those days, I NEED self-expression. I CRAVE the release that comes along with writing. With all the insanity I forget to take care of myself. I lose myself. Writing, crafting, creating, is my relaxation. It’s my sanity.

I’ve started and stopped several blogs, none of them have stuck. It’s the same with journals and novels. For half of my life, I’ve wanted nothing more than to be a writer and a farmer. Oh, I never wanted to publish my writings. I am satisfied just to write. When the words flow freely, when that THING clicks into place, and everything is right with the world. I live for that moment. That is why I write.

Typically, I keep my writings to myself. I’m very uncomfortable having my works read. I created my blog as an attempt to force myself out of my comfort zone and to cope with the insanity of life. I love my kid, but it’s taken me two hours for 15 minutes of writing. I’m eagerly awaiting nap time.