I live in a house of contradictions. On the one hand my parents offer me a roof over my head, supplement my groceries, don’t ask me to pay room and board for it. This allows me to travel to cons, festivals, and signings. Enter in contests. Pursue my dream how I see fit.
But in the next breath the side swipe me and bloody my nose and knock the wind out of my gut with a one-two emotional sucker punch that leaves the most skilled fighter wobbling in the wind. The worst part of it? I know I’m stuck. Until next January I am official stuck in this weird halfway hellhole, where one day it’s all we go together like peas and carrots and the next it’s like they’re the tornado and I’m the house in their path. And now, all quiet on fucking western front.
I know, I know. I chose this. I chose to move into this house, with this dysfunctional lot. Today I made sure I took my meds on time. I didn’t drink copious amounts of caffeine. I got a chapter done. And I guess I should thank their fucking asses because now I have something to write about.
I know it’s lame to dream about a Prince Charming or a bad ass ready to whisk me away from all of this. I guess there’s this part of me that dreams of finding someone to share my life with. Someone who will come to my awards ceremonies (should I be invited) with me. Someone to celebrate how hard all of this really is in the face of emotional turmoil.
But here is what I have to come to terms with. I am enough. I am tough enough. And when my enemies who sometimes hide behind the masks of family and friends wound me as deeply as they do I have to know this Prince Charming thing is a frickin’ fairytale because my taste in men is absolutely horrible.
I pick intellectual and emotionally unavailable men.
So when my match comes, and even in times like these, when I doubt he will ever come, I’ve got to know to hold out for the best one. Someone who makes me their #1. Who will hold me when my parents let me down for the millionth time and let me cry.
My parents suffer from mental illness too. But this is what I’ve learned. Ultimately you are responsible for your own behavior.
They wounded me horribly last night. So I was horrible to them right back. This morning I owned up to it and apologized to both of my parents. Today they have been the tornado and me the house in their path. I didn’t want to up the ante, as my therapist would say, so I walked away and put myself in my bedroom.
Now I’m here. Talking to my silent witnesses to get this awful feeling out of me so I can feel better. I have finished a chapter on the Odd Ones. A thriller I’m having edited before I submit to a NewYork agent. Yes, that’s right I’m pushing myself to the next level. And when I get to the bookstore I plan on finishing this blog post and promoting it. And finishing the chapter I was working on last night of BELLA MORTE:VENGEANCE.
As for the documentary. Shoot date might be in March. And perhaps the editing will start in March and finish in April as well. Things are going good with a contact I’ve made that might be a grass roots fundraiser which will help with marketing and distribution.
So as tornadic as my family is. I succeed in spite of the chaos they often rain down upon me without much as a second thought as to how that might affect me creatively. Last night it made what I wanted to do impossible.
But with a good night’s rest, and a schedule to go by I’m getting plenty done. So to you Daniel, and my other silent witnesses, I thank you all.