Winds of Change

I want to start this Memoir Monday off by saying I may be a tad more emotional than normal because I’m currently in pain, and I don’t deal with pain well. (I have severe chronic migraines, and I’m currently dealing with one.) However, the topic of change is one I’ve been thinking about for some time now.

We all face change, whether we want to or not. It can be good; it can be bad. Life can be boiled down to change and learning how to deal with said change. Often times, how we decide to deal with it shapes who we ultimately become. Depression and anxiety comes from change but so can happiness and joy.

Recently, I’ve been having to prepare myself for changes I’m not quite sure what to do with. I have a history of not dealing with change well. At all. As much as I like spontaneity in my life, I also like things a certain way. I get rather upset when something doesn’t fit into my pre-made mold of how I think my life should be. It’s a daily struggle.

I also have a habit of being a control freak. And we all know change isn’t something we can control. Not usually, anyway. Even if we can control how we react to it. Typically, I don’t control my own emotions about it; I just react then deal with the consequences later. Which generally makes everything worse.

While I will do a section on family some time, I just wanted to say now that I’ve always been close to my family, even though we’ve gone through times where we’ve had our differences. I had my teenage moments. My parents will attest to that. However, we were still close. Especially my sister and I. Which all changed, of course, when I got married and moved out three years ago. I’m still dealing with it.

However, depending on how certain events transpire, more change will come. And no matter how much I tell myself I’m ready for it, I’m not. Over the past three years, I feel like all I’ve done is become distant from my family. I feel like I don’t know them anymore or I’m not a part of my family anymore. Which I know are lies made up by my mind, but I still can’t help but wonder. Like I said, I don’t deal with change well, and I’m afraid everything will become even more distant, more…alien.

And this type of change isn’t just happening with my family. It’s been happening with friends I originally thought I was close to. Either my life has changed, or their life has changed, and we’ve become distant. They say things about me they’ve used to never say. I’m finding I don’t know them as well as I used to, same with my family. I don’t know why.

With all this happening around the same time, I can’t help but wonder one thing: have I changed as a person, and is that change bad, since I feel so disconnected from everything? I know we all go through shifts in our personalities as we age, but I don’t feel like I’ve had one in a while. Perhaps that’s my problem. Or am I going through a change in my personality right now and not realizing it? I honestly couldn’t tell you.

I feel like I’m at a loss about everything. I’m afraid to embrace any type of change that may be happening, and that’s most likely the root of my problems. I’m keeping myself stuck in the same rut because I’m afraid to move forward. And I’m afraid to move forward because I’m afraid the looming changes are going to rip away everyone I care about. Even if they’re already slowly slipping through my fingers. I just don’t foresee the changes bringing anyone closer to me.

Again, I can’t tell if it’s because I’ve changed as a person, or if I’m in the middle of changing. I’m afraid, and I just want things to be like they’ve always been.

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The Sun Will Set/The Sun Will Rise

The sun will set
Ending the bright day
All light fading away
Night no longer held at bay
Demons coming out to play
Yet the sun will rise

The sun will set
Causing endless strife
All the malice running rife
Innocents caught by the knife
Fiends eagerly consuming life
Yet the sun will rise

The sun will set
Bringing senseless pain
All reminders of the slain
Emotions trapping within a chain
Sins uncleansed by the rain
Yet the sun will rise

The sun will set
Encouraging intimate holocaust
All energy has been exhaust
But you can’t give up the lost
You must save them despite the cost
Because the sun will rise

Blossoming Morning

The morning begins in midnight blue
A fresh day barely waking
Then light glitters on the horizon
A new color palette making

The sun peeks onto the sky
Bringing forth deserved life
Then filling the world with warmth
Chasing away night’s strife

The midnight blue fades away
Revealing pastels of dawn
Then the floodgates open
The morning in full blossom

Hello, Again!

Good afternoon, readers! I hope this post finds you in good health. If not, then I hope you’ll be able to find something positive to brighten your day. I understand it’s been awhile since I last posted. However, I do have some good news.

I am finally starting to get my life back on track. Can you ever get a life back on track? Well, we’ll see where this train goes. Even if it’s to the crazy station. Eh, who am I kidding? I’m already there.

Two weeks ago, the husband and I went on a much-needed vacation. We went on some adventures, observed some never-before-seen artifacts, and just spent a lot of time sleeping in for once. It was nice. Of course, last week was living everyday in Hell at both of our jobs. Which is typically how it goes coming back from vacation. But it is what it is.

This week, we’re starting off better. I know I haven’t been much for poetry and short stories lately. Any creativity I’ve acquired has been shoved directly into finishing the final revision for my novel, which I’m plugging along with.

I’m not going to promise my blog routine will return this week. However, I will say I’m going to try my best to get back into the swing of things with my blogging schedule. I’m still thanking you for your continued patience!

Hope

Today, I was honestly going to talk about abandonment. My fear of it, how I respond to it, how I deal with it in my everyday life, etc. However, that’s not going to be today’s memoir subject. This morning, I woke up and said no. I will say I’m stuck in an emotional rut right now, but I’m tired of the negativity. I’m tired of feeling sorry for myself. Tired of taking everything personally. Because, guess what? It’s not all about me. It’s not all about one person. And I’m glad. I don’t want that pressure. I’m not sure of anyone who would.

I feel like if you survey 100 people, most will give you different ways for how they define “hope.” I’m not going to pull the dictionary out for this one. (Yes, I use physical dictionaries instead of Google. Thesauruses, too. I’d rather personally smack someone upside the head with knowledge if it came down to it. Burglars, beware!) Instead, I want to talk about how I define hope. Also, I’m just lazy. I’m not even going to lie.

When I hear the word, I firstly think of one of my best friends who goes by the same name. I’ve always been a person of few enemies and even fewer friends. However, my pretty much sister-from-another-mister and I have been friends for several years. Sometimes, I honestly wonder how we’ve made it this far. It’s no secret I’m an emotional person. I’ve put her through things she nowhere near deserved, so we’ve had our ups and downs like any relationship. But, we’ve made it work, and that’s how I know she’s a real friend.

What do I think of secondly? Well, when I try to think of how I would define hope, my brain flat lines for a few moments. Then it’s all over the place. So I never get a clear answer. People like to say things like, “Oh, I hope the weather stays nice,” or “Man, I really hope my team wins this year.” The only sport I repeatedly watch is NASCAR, so I’ve been known to say, “I hope my favorite driver wins at the end of a good race.” I’ll delve into NASCAR some other time.

All that is fine and dandy. I’m not saying it isn’t. I feel like there’s something more to those four letters than just wishful thinking. I’m a Christian; I was raised Southern Baptist. (Shocking since I tend to write dark and supernatural stuff, eh?) So hope can be capitalized when using it as one of God’s many, many epithets. Even still, I think the meaning of hope can dive deeper because I don’t believe it only pertains to religion. Although one could argue hope can be aligned with faith. Or dreams, for that matter.

My hopes and dreams? Of course, I hope to become a published author. I’ve been diligently working on my first novel. I hope people will read it, and it will touch them in some way. I hope they’ll connect to my characters. I hope readers will walk away with a new perspective on life. I have the typical aspirations of every author. Becoming published is my goal in life.

Yet, there’s still an itch that needs to be scratched. And it’s rather personal. I’m constantly hoping I will change. I mean, down on my knees, begging and hoping I will change. Not in a physical sense. Nor the idea I need to change to fit the world’s mold sense. An emotional sense. Most of the time, the only way I make through each day is hoping I’ll eventually be better. I don’t handle stress well. I tend to lash out at those I care about most. I have no self-confidence. I question my own judgement. I’m always lost in the vast oceans of my inner demons and turmoils. Wrestling with myself day in and day out. As a result, I’m perpetually exhausted. Both mentally and physically.

Hope keeps me alive. I know I’ll be better one day. I have to be better some day. I could go on a whole “religious rant,” but I’m not going to. Here’s why. I’m learning that I am not in control. No matter what religion you are, whether you’re religious or not, one thing stays the same. Life was not created to be controlled. Our best attempts fail. Such is the way of humanity and its hubris.

Long story short, my hope is my reason for life. My passions, my dreams are all funneled through this tiny little of strand of hope I desperately hold on to. That is how I would define the word. Outside of my friend, of course. The will of life is what hope means to me. The motivation to move on, push forward. And, yes, there are actual steps I can take to better myself. I’ve been taking them, slowly but surely. To me, though, it all means nothing if I don’t have hope.

 

Aurora Borealis

I dared not look up, instead keeping my gaze down. Snow crunched under my boots as my headlamp revealed my short puffs of breath. If I accomplished one thing in my mundane life, it would be climbing this mountain. The wind whipped against me. Making me pause until it died down. I hated this stopping and starting. My muscles burned and were frozen at the same time. This was by far my most painful experience. But it would be worth it. Once I reached the summit.

A sigh of contentment escaped me as I ascended. It took me three days, but I made it. In time to see the Northern Lights. I dropped my pack. Turned off my headlamp. Ripping off my goggles, I exposed my eyes to the frigid night air. I breathed deep. This was why I sat in the same cubicle for ten years. It was this spectacle that had given me hope, given me life.

Greens, blues, even purples danced above me in silent song. Flickered in lazy waves. I held my breath as tears formed and froze. It was more magnificent than I imagined. More breathtaking than all the pictures combined. It sent me into meditative peace. My heartrate calmed. My aching muscles forgot about the trek I had made. Everything centered on the marvel I witnessed.

The colors suddenly shifted. Convulsed and swirled in an organic pattern. A tendril broke away from the rest. Floated towards me. I remained motionless until I couldn’t resist any longer. Hesitating, I reached out a gloved hand. My finger grazed the tendril. Pleasant warmth flooded me, driving away the cold. I jumped back. Not expecting to make contact.

As the tendril snaked away, the form of a woman took shape. She was made of the Northern Lights itself; her hair never left the Lights, and her feet never touched the ground. Her eyes snapped open. Revealing themselves to be twin stars. She turned her gaze upon me. Partially transparent form lambent.

I stumbled back into the snow, landing solidly on my butt. I blinked several times. Couldn’t fill my lungs with enough air. Which had been difficult to begin with in the thin atmosphere.

“Peace, warrior.” Her mellifluous voice kept time with the Lights. “I have waited 1,210 years for you.”

My gaze darted around. Me? I was no warrior. I wasn’t even a weekend warrior. Surely not me. I resided to pointing at myself.

She seemed to nod. “Yes, you. My name is Aurora Borealis.”

Knees shaking, I pushed myself to my feet. Found my voice in my dry mouth. “That’s what we call this. I mean, you, I suppose.”

“Yes. Because that is my name. I have known yours, for you are worthy. You see, I am from the past. I live in the future. Yet, I am aware of the present. I have experienced and waited for this moment for centuries.”

I rubbed my eyes. The Northern Lights had taken the form of a woman, spoke to me, and told me I was worthy? I must’ve passed out after I reached the summit. I checked over my shoulder. I wasn’t lying in the snow, so this wasn’t an out-of-body experience. My gaze returned to the ethereal woman before me. Yes, she was still there.

Her form wavered. “I am real. You will come to belief in time. You always have. However, you must understand. They have killed my brother, Aurora Australis. They seek to destroy me next. You must unravel the mystery that will rewrite history and save us, as well as humanity.”

“What,” I finally blurted. “You want me to be some sort of savior? I barely made it up this mountain. Who’s ‘they?’ How am I worthy of anything? I never even made Employee of the Month. Are you even going to answer any of my questions?”

“Everything will come to fruition. You shall see. Take one of my children as a guide.” She lowered an arm. A star descended, decreasing in size until she captured it in a lantern made of the Lights. She handed her precious child over. “I must go. My faith resides in you. You have always been brave. Do not forget my words.”

With a final pause of affirmation, she retreated back into the sky. The Northern Lights receded. Faded into nothingness. All that remained was darkness. Only for a few moments. The morning sun crept up from the east. Setting the mountains on fire with the reflecting snow.

I stood in dumbstruck silence. Too many questions for my brain to comprehend. I had only wanted to see the Northern Lights. That was the one exciting thing I wanted to do in my life. I didn’t want to be recognized for doing something great. I just wanted to see the phenomenon that had filled my dreams ever since I was a child.

Was that it, then? Had I really been chosen? I finally looked at the flickering lantern. The star twinkled with unknown secrets. My gaze returned to the scenery in front of me. What was I supposed to do?

Before I could think another thought, I was, indeed, transported to the past.

*Author’s Note: Short Story Saturday brings a somewhat short story. I tried sending this to a few online short story publications, and it got denied. I like it the way it is, so instead of changing it, I decided to publish it on my own blog. I just won’t get paid for it. Which is perfectly fine. I don’t write for payment; I write for my own enjoyment. Hopefully, others will enjoy it as well. 

Turn Back Time

If I could turn back time
Would I find a way
To say
Everything I meant to say
If I could rewind the clocks
Would I actually argue
To do
Everything I meant to do
If I could travel into the past
Would I make a decree
To see
Everything I meant to see

But then…
Would I make the choice
To turn back the time
And live the rest of my life
In a state of constant rewind