The journey towards forgiveness

I do not usually post blog-style confesionals. I’m much more of a poet, than anything else. In fact in addition to my poetry online, I have been keeping multiple journals at home and handwritten. One is more private confessional journal type enteries and the other is mostly poems, ideas, and sometimes tarot readings I give myself or lists of things to do or lists of music playlists.

HERE…is mostly just where I share poems, unless I am all fired up. Today, I am all fired up and I think its vital to share because it might help others to move forward.

I am all fired up about the notion of forgiveness. In theory, I do believe it is better to forgive even if not forget or forgive ANd forget-whatever works best for you. But in practice I find this to be a slippery slope. i struggle very much on how to forgive, when to forgive and how to let go. Honestly, I hold horrible grudges. And they are horrible in truth because mostly they only serve to hurt me-myself-nobody else.

All that angry righteous high horse b.s. I desperately hold onto-a sense of who iswrong and who is right? Honestly, it does not serve me much any longer-in fact it wears me down, makes me feel guilty and mad, like an angry hornet shook lose from its nest.

so today, I was with my hubby and we were at the bookstore out of nowhere i spotted like the ideal book and he bought it for me with a couple other items. This book is called, “The forgiveness formula: how to let go of your pain and move on with Life.” It was on sale at barnes and nobles-only$6.98-hardcover-by author Kathleen Griffin. @2004.

I am only on pg 16 so far but this book is exactly what i needed to hear at this time. i am in fact blown away.I am just writing about this because forgiveness can be ajourney-a pathwy-towards feeling lighter-less burdened. And in my heart, i realize it is not an easy thing to forgive. That more folks than just myself struggle with it. Holding onto the past so tightly it only distorts your vision of the present moment and it poisons the well of your future happiness. This seems true to me.

Someday I really hope I can learn to forgive, hopefully sooner than later because all this angry i hold deep down inside-it only strangles me-making it harder to breathe making it harder to reign into my sanity. I realize i am not the only sufferer out there but by refusing to allow forgiveness its like picking a scab, bruised and bleeding-the wound will not heal. I know I will not heal either. By the way, I highly reccommend her book-so far its very good.

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Upcoming Sale on Kindle Starts Tomorrow…Lavender Surprise

Starting tomorrow at 8:00 AM PST, my kindle e-book “Lavender Surprise.” will go on sale being reduced from it’s original price to a mere 99 cents.This is a direct link:http://www.amazon.com/Lavender-Surprise-Emily-Sturgill-ebook/dp/B00BT4QBDG/ref=la_B00B1GC5LY_1_11_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1384630698&sr=1-1

Lavender Surprise
A chapbook containing both poetry and artwork by the Poet/Artist/Author. The poems are in a vein of surrealistic poetry. There is both color and black and white artworks. It is roughly 35 pages long. It is the Author’s seventh chapbook this year. (2013)

New Facebook page for Sex in the kitchen Sink

https://www.facebook.com/sexinthekitchensink13?ref=hl

Follow me on facebook please!Picture 149 Warming up with color abstract 2 Fall 2013 Spirals of Song and other poems book cover1 Picture 161 Warming up with color abstract 1 Fall 2013 Abstract oil pastel drawing 99 cover design for words whirl 2013 copy Falling to pieces by EHCato 1999 IMAG0893 IMAG0898 IMAG0897 Art before words new front cover copy back cover art before words3 copy self portrait 05012013 Picture 94 Acrylic mixed media pumice gel painting 1996 canvasboard Spirituality, acrylic and sand on canvasboard 1996 possible coverart1 copy Athena wiccan11 IMG_20130330_093258

Fright on a Friday Night:

I got a phone call

early today to set up,

yet another job interview.

Most would feel excitement,

eagerness like the way the dog pulls,

on his leash during a fun walk outside

on a fall day.

I do not.

I am scared to get my hopes up.

I have had many interview opportunities,

yet barely any job prospects,

to the point,

I must reflect,

I somehow interview badly.

So instead of excitement,

or eagerness, it is this fear

that grabs me.

It’s a bit like stage-fright.

It’s like walking a tightrope without/

a safety-net/

and who will-?

catch me if I fall again?

Because I just might, stumble, stutter, fall

face-forward into this Stage-fright.

Falling, failing all over again..

covering myself with my “Ums”

as the guns go off/

as questions get fired at me/

rapid quick/

will I just look like another

dimwit? Or worse yet,

will I be the babbling brook/

that never ceases to quit, its flow, spewing

out irrelevant data, due to a nervous

bipolar mouth twitch?

Is there a way to steady myself,

against more rejection/

as I tell myself I want to work

again-more than anything.

Fright Falls

onto my Friday night.

Running on E

Running on E,

Empty, my thoughts have

decided to run away,

they flee free me.

 

Running on E,

I let the empty get the best 

of Me. I reach out-

towards the empty sky,

not a cloud in sight.

 

Running on E,

Grabbing outwards for the 

poetry. To take a hold of Me.

But too much everything equates

a void.

 

Running on E,

but I digress.

Where did I misplace the Lioness?

Where did I misplace the Poetess?

 

Running on E,

nothing comes very easy.

The thoughts all roll right out of my brain,

catching like embers burning into fire,

as the free-verse falls down.

 

Running on E,

a hapless clown.

How to quench this thirst,

of creating something out of

nothing?

 

Running on E,

it leaves me screaming-

so loud- my lips leave no sound.

The words all blocked up,

a corked up wine bottle.

 

Running on E,

the empty sound of silence,

What is left to say?

Where do the poem-words take you,

Anyway?

 

Empty, Empty, Empty,

and then like Humpty Dupty,

We All fall down.

Falling down again.

With a crash.

Depressed slightly

Yesterday, oh how I cried.

Huge horrible torrents of tears.

My husband did not know what to do-

he never really does, when I stumble

backwards into depression again.

My manias are easier for him to understand-

and he’s seen so many more of those-than this.

This black terror fit.

This wave crashing downwards upon me,

crushing me to the bone.

crushing me to my soul.

When I get like this, I cannot help myself;

I collapse in crying fits, jagged waves with razor teeth edges.

I cry so hard,  I barely make a sound-just this gasping breathe-this sobbing mess.

I realize, of course I have so many blessings.

I have a loving husband, for the most part a very happy marriage.

I have many friends. I have a roof over my head, bills are paid, food in the house.

5 lovely fur-pets. A beautiful house and backyard. Our backyard has wonderful

rose bushes.

But despite all the good-the depressions still sneak up upon me.

I cry for the have-nots.

I cry because I cannot find employment.

I have been looking over 18 months.

I cry because I have a history of miscarriages,

and infertility. I cry because I have mental illness, and

no matter how hard I try or which magic pills I swallow

I am still slightly crazy one day to the next.

I feel as though because I have been on disability so long…

that I have no worth as a person. I believe a job or a career

in many ways defines you, and for me? I have nothing but years of blank spaces.

I just recently finished a masters degree. Unfortunately, after I got it, I realized;

it is a slightly useless one. I should have gotten a counseling degree…

instead I got a masters of Education: major in art Ed with a core focus of art therapy.

As lovely as that sounds, nobody will hire me.

I do not even have a teaching certificate.

I owe a fortune in student loans…

This most recent hypomania-back at the end of may-

well it nailed me.

And now I’m spiraling downwards without a staircase.

Frustrations mount.

I struggle with broken-down-hands

to grab the gratitude, the blessings, the happiness

the optimism still there.

There is great love all around in this big beautiful world.

I need to find some deep inside myself, forgive my own

imperfections and share something pretty with the world.

Still time to RSVP Artist talk & Art Therapy Workshop

Art Therapy Flyer August 1 2013  On August 1,2013 which is a Thursday evening I will be hosting an Artist Talk on Mental Health and Recovery through Art-making. I will also do a short demo of 2 different watercolor techniques. Then guests will be invited to create their own watercolor artworks. Tickets are only $20 per person and include all supplies. They ask persons to please register in advance. The deadline is tomorrow night.

You can register by going to the studio’s website here: http://www.theartexperience.org/2013_Summer_ScheduleofClasses.html

There is still plenty of room available. Please feel free to leave comments if you would like to attend and need more info. This will be in Pontiac Mi. They will also have some of my chap-books for sale. If you buy one, I will sign it for you at no charge-only if you want though! 🙂

Worlds Collide

Worlds collide

deep inside,

my smashing mind.

 

There is the world that

I have built of an insane asylum-inside my head.

Then there is the “other”- “Real World”.

 

these two places do not often,

co-exist very well.

Somedays, I get lost in the translation.

 

My crazy self, jumps into

the world of reality foolish and blindly.

She peers out for a second or moment-

here nor there….tearing a patch of the fabric

that holds me altogether.

 

And then worlds collide.

When I am sane-relatively speaking-all

of the sudden I do something

out of whack and crazy.

 

It’s not an episode-rather a symptom.

I suffer from some strange and

unexpected irrationality.

Or worse, I get fearful and defensive,

and I have no idea why.

 

I just knew that somewhere,

deep inside

two worlds have collided,

yet again.

 

 

 

Putting out wild fires

I have had 6 reviews so far as an Author on Amazon.com. 4 of the 6 were high praise. But 2 of the 6 were from the same person making very negative statements on my work, just one in particular, My “Memoirs recalled Madness: a personal account of living with bipolar disorder.” (2013) by Emily Sturgill. This young lady wrote basically that even though she bought my paperback she deemed it unworthy of reading due to grammar errors.

At the time, I was highly offended. But it was also close to the time, when I was becoming hypo-manic in May. I made harsh statements due to being so taken off-guard and did not respond in a professional way. Now there is a second woman leaving negative statements as comments, based on my over-reaction in trying to defend my work.

So I choose to simply re-edit it and re-release it. Then I attempted to apologize to both women.

You, know you cannot please everyone all of the time. I feel lucky to have positive reviews at all. And I have also said even if you have nothing nice to say, that perhaps it would make me a better writer for that. I have never discouraged negative reviews-I think I try to be receptive to any feedback of all kinds.

I don’t know. I still feel shaken up about the whole thing. I still have trouble understanding how someone would pay so much for a paperback then refused to read it due to grammar errors. Like for me, if she had actually read it-which she claims she did not-and judged it poorly on the basis on how I said things or content-what I was writing about THEN wrote a bad review-well then ok BRING IT ON. But to admit you never finished reading it and then review that the whole thing must suck due to errors you found in the first ten pages? Huh? The book is 88 pages long. I know I am more touchy about it, for a few reasons. First it’s based on my real-life story events. As well and as personal as I could tell them. Second, that is not my typical type of writing or genre.I mostly wrote just poems and prose. There’s a reason for that. I do not have the attention span some other Authors do to develop a plot and to really stick with it. Develop characters not to mention a solid beginning, middle and end.

Still, in my defense, I have been told many times that I write well. The responses between the two other woman towards me were just plain ugly.I felt like I was being-cyber-bullied!!! At the same time, I feel they have a right to their opinion. My loving husband disagrees. He reported their comments as abuse to Amazon. He cited them or at least the first person to be making personal attacks. I’m not sure how that works. They did not use obscenities or anything like that they were just both so very mean. My mistake, was ever commenting on the review in the first place-it added fuel to the fire. Now I am trying to put out wild fires. I realize as an Author, or Artist or Poet-you are putting yourself out there. People may not like your work, in fact they may even hate it. But sometimes, it is hard to separate who you are as a person from the work that you do. In spite of all the really wonderful reviews, the bad and ugly reviews stick out like a sore thumb. And that is MY PROBLEM-not theirs. I need a thicker skin.

If any other self-published authors out there have advice on this? Please comment on my blog. I have no idea what I am doing wrong. Obviously, I did not run a spell-check and grammar-check before publishing my memoirs. That’s my bad judgement there. I do not really use the spell-check feature when writing poetry or prose, because it’s different. When writing poems you may not want a capital letter at the beginning of each and every line. It annoys me.If there is a obvious spelling error I do fix that.

Am i really getting my panties all twisted into a bunch over what 2 woman said on the internet?? Does that make me the worlds worst, writer, author, artist and poet? Anybody out there have objective advice on taking criticism and handling it well? I would love to hear from you? Please, Please, please…any of my readers feel free to comment on the post. I’m a bit lost. However, I am still working on a new book. I am not going to stop writing over this or anything-even if folks hate it. I’m going to suck it up and keep writing no matter what. Thanks, Emily

Searching secrets

Searching among a sea of Secrets.

Looking for answers buried deep

inside my core

So much slips by

my subconscious eye.

 

Somedays I do not know

where I begin and where my illness,

fits in.

Stability is the ultimate goal.

To mend what is broken

To become whole.

 

Yet the parts I try

to deny linger and remain

a constant refrain in the chorus

which settles for

background music of a sort,

the melody of manic-depression.

 

So much regression, so much tug & back

then forth-some days I have clarity

and others I wish I did not.

The stuff I block out

The mysteries of that which makes me-

me.

 

Knowingly, I must struggle

to accept all the parts of my self

even the sick bits and pieces-

until I am able to embrace it all

to stake a claim-

there remains

a subdivision between this mood

or the next.

 

Trying my best, not only

to recover but to re-discover

the parts I try best to never see.

The big, the bad, the ugly

even the beautiful

of me.