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How My Feelings Freak You Out and What to Do About It

As you know, I truly disregard other’s judgment of my expression of feelings here. This space has always held safety for me. Even when I’ve been attacked, I still know that I am entitled to be honest about me. I sometimes think I should be more so.

And what I’ve come to realize is that not only do people truly not understand that it’s Okay to be not Okay, they think that my expression of self-doubt or fear to be me is somehow a reflection of instability. After all, who thinks this is Okay?

I Do.

In fact, if we were all to admit our self-doubts, our humanity more to one another without assuming that person is funny farm material, we might get to route of some of our problems more quickly. But instead, people are horrified at my humanity. It must mean something awful has happened to me.How My Feelings Freak You Out and What to Do About It on Shalavee.com

Am I considering self-harm? Bahahaha hahahaha! I have never gone there and don’t plan to. Or maybe my anxieties just play into others’ anxieties and they can’t read what I write without being triggered into anxiety. I get that. Maybe my husband has driven me to it? He’s the funniest kindest man I’ve ever met so, no.

I find it sad that we are so clammed up with our feelings that we can’t even recognize and value honesty as just that. If we find compassion for one another and our expression of pain, it may help us find compassion for our own pain. That’s apparently not an option. But I wish it was. So I’ll continue to confess my feelings. And your choice of how to respond is yours to do what you want.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

Calling the Shame to the Table

What is it about me and absolutes? I need to be all in or all out. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right. SO many contingencies which completely permit me to opt out of stuff that I really “should” be doing.

Here’s some that have been rumbling around making me dizzy.

If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.

Do I find my true voice so that I can be a writer or

Do I write to find my true voice?

If I fail to start, I fail. If I start to fail, I started.

Our fear is very trixsy. It knows everything we know and can use our best and worst moments against us. For years, and I mean for years and years, I have made promises to myself to branch out and take chances with my writing. While I am completely comfortable with my nakedness here on my blog, I have not caught the updraft to sail into the larger world.

This is a great source of shame for me, as much as my weight gain from the pandemic lockdown. And shame is our worst captor. She works closely with Fear finding ways to make you comply and “stay safe”. I abhor that phrase. My safety makes me ashamed and that’s why I’m telling on myself. I want to release myself from this horrid prison.

Calling the Shame to the Table on Shalavee.com

I don’t know the right way to start.

I have nothing to say and have never done anything interesting.

I don’t need the hassle of the worry and the fret.

Nothing ventured, nothing lost.

Every day is a good day to start again.

Shame is a sh**show.

And accountability is everything.

I will give you my secret shame and you can hold onto it. I don’t want it anymore.

And I’ll do the same for you if you need me to.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

My 9 Year Blogaversary

My Blog at Shalavee.com, the home for my consistent creative writing outlet, turns 9 years old this month. She was born from a need to commit to my creative writing. She was an excuse to come out of my shell and show up online. And what I found out about myself through my honest words and connections with people in the world was that I had unlimited thoughts to convey and words to express them with.

I have regularly owned my words and shared them out loud on my blog. My thoughts weren’t always greeted with kindness and I was so insecure when I first started on social media, I was terrified to “friend” people. But over time, as with anything, I learned how I wanted to use these communication tools to communicate in a way I was comfortable with. I have since created long term friendships with and been witnessed by some pretty terrific people.My 9 Year Blogaversary on Shalavee.com

The blog helped me to discover I had an honest voice and people appreciated this. Through my blog, I discovered who I am to the world and to myself.

I am a Creativity Ambassador. I am a Mid-Life Mom. I practice Creative Soul Living and look for Wisdom Lessons in my everyday life. I don’t shy away from my truths and give them away freely in my Soul Selfies on Instagram and blog post essays. I spent many years as an Anxiety Warrior and finally allowed medication to help me over the unmovable hump to progress with my writing and blog and claim a new place in the world of words and thought leaders.My 9 Year Blogaversary on Shalavee.com

There is some big beautiful juicy things I can do here on earth through this outlet if I only envision a plan and get on with the business of writing it into reality.

See my 8th blogaversary post here. See my 7th blogaversary post here. See my 6th  here. My 5th here. My 4th here. (pictures may not appear until the new sight is up).

Just you wait!

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

A Published Essay on Lessons in the Time of Lockdown

Sometimes I need to gift myself opportunities to expand creatively. Whether it’s my 100 Day project or decorating a special event, I do well with having a deadline. And even though I’ve mostly kept myself accountable to writing three times a week for my blog ( a little understandable slacking during our lockdown), it’s been a while since I had an opportunity to write with this sort of impetus.  Julia Barnickle’s Lesson’s during Lockdown collaboration provided a perfect opportunity to write something bigger and better.

Julia had already hosted something about finding more Ease in our daily lives in January. And when, in her invitation to join, she spoke of her own experience writing for others’ community projects as a good way to feel a part of community, I got this. Absolutely. She wrote:

In July 2020, there will be a second free online community project “Lessons from Lockdown” which will result in another ebook / book, containing essays / quotes about positive things learned during the experience of lockdown during the COVID-19 Coronavirus pandemic.

One of my visions for “Lessons from Lockdown” is not only to describe how we’ve managed to stay sane during lockdown, but also to create a vision of a bright new future – a future that works for everyone.”

You can find my essay titled Lessons During Lockdown: Finding Ease in Uncertain Times Here. I truly enjoyed writing this because, when I did, I finally found ease in writing my specific story. Seems that writing is the place where I am mostly myself. Where I enter a world that I am uninterrupted with my muse and that is a place I want to live in.

Funny though how I have been here before and forgotten.

A Published Essay on Lessons in the Time of Lockdown on Shalavee.com

In March of 2018, I had an invitation to join the Wholehearted Living Project hosted by Terri Connellan on her Quiet Writing site. I was thrilled and proud of myself for that piece. I discovered more of myself within that project. I found that I believed in Non-Negotiable Creative Soul Living, a way of respecting the need for creativity and living within that space. You can find that essay title Gathering My Lessons: A Wholehearted Story Here on Terri’s site.

Then I offered an essay up for the Attract Readers’ International Women’s Day Challenge in March of 2019 titled Ceasing Our Self-Bullying & Befriending Ourselves which you can read here. I had the chance to truly speak to myself about compassion and kindness.

Point is that I enjoy writing these bigger essays. It gives me time to really find out what I think. And to take time to mold then and smooth them out until they are the best I can do. I am proud of all these pieces and have been reminded again that I’m an essayist.

Were you to want to read my other stories, they’re there for your enjoyment.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

A Fictional Writing Piece on the Corona Virus by My Son Eamon Peach

I was not surprised when my children’s artistic talents began to emerge. My son could draw pretty well and at age 8, he began to play the piano. The rest is history. He took to it so fast, it was always what he’d been good at, he’d just not gotten a chance to play yet.

In addition to piano, he also plays the bass clarinet for both his high school marching band and a large local community band. And one night, he forgot to bring his instrument home from school. So while his fellow community band members were practicing, he spent the time writing the following short story on the subject topic that seems to be worrying the world currently; the Corona Virus.

She wakes, and looks at her phone. The news reports a “rapidly spreading plague” in China, supposedly set to become an epidemic. She laughs to herself, figuring this type of stuff happens all the time, in her modern world, this could never happen, just like WW3, it was an amusing thought, but it passed. She walks into her kitchen, pours herself some coffee, and sits down. Jumping to reddit, she notices quite a lot of memes and such about this new “corona virus”. She chuckles, this is definitely a joke of a disease.

About a month later…

She wakes, and looks at her phone, the news reports that the “corona virus” has several confirmed cases in the US, a few in Australia, and is still rapidly spreading in Asia. It supposedly gotten to the point where several smaller countries have stopped imports and transportation from China in an attempt to stop the spread. She shakes her head; “well that’s something” she tells herself, walking to the kitchen. Her roommate steps out from his room, coughing and bleary-eyed. He says it’s just a common cold, she reassures herself, a little scared at first.

At work..

Several of her coworkers are out today, believed to be sick. Her boss tells everyone there’s been a cold spreading about, nothing to be concerned about, use germ-ex or whatever. She sighs in relief and continues her day.

A few weeks later…

She wakes, and looks at her phone, the news, reporting mass fatalities in China, and areas of quarantine in some of its urban regions. Other countries near China have done the same, some successful, some not. Other western countries, such as Greenland and Sweden have completely shut off all contact with infected countries, claiming they can sustain themselves, and that it’s: “worth the risk”. Economists worldwide are warning against this, saying although it will delay the plague, it will ruin the economies of some countries, making their contributions to the plague insignificant. She shudders, and walks to the kitchen, she hears a thinking from her roommates room, and peeks inside. He’s on the ground, face first, unconscious, and practically choking on his own vomit. She screams and feels a wave of nausea wash over her. Panicking, she tries to figure out ways to help him, before remembering reading somewhere that you  in these types of situations, you should roll them onto their sides, at least that’s what she thinks she remembers. She rolls him, taking several tries, onto his side, and a stream of green runs from his mouth onto the carpeted floor. She look away and dials 911, so many thoughts running through her mind, what if he died? What if she caught it? What if she died?

911, what’s your emergency?”

My roommate, I, uh, found him lying on the floor, I don’t know if he’s dead, he had a col-“

Ma’am we’ll be there as soon as we can, thank you.”

-click-

The next day, at work…

Welp, it looks like we’re shutting down, nobody can afford us anymore, not with the sudden depression the country’s been having, they all withdrew their money and left, haven’t had a single deposit anywhere in the system since Wednesday.” Her boss exclaims to her and the rest of the employees.

She walks slowly home, head down, slowly realizing how hopeless her life has become. She sees a man arguing with a figure in a business suit, the man seems extremely upset, and the suited person hands him a paper. The man crumbles to his knees and pleads. She turns away from the scene to bump into a cloaked man, who was running down the sidewalk, sputtering and coughing. A few seconds later, a pursuing figure, a police officer of a sort, runs after the man, yelling for him to stop. She decides to visit her grocery store later in the day, just in case anything were to… go wrong.

A day or so later…

She wakes, hungry. She is afraid to look at her phone, but does it anyway. The first thing she notices is a notification from her phone company saying data for the next month will have to be paid within the next week or the user’s phone will be shut off. She sighs, at this point, it’s not a surprise, just another problem in what’s looking to be the downward spiral of her life. The news reports that this will be it’s last report, as they will soon go bankrupt. The news however, makes her wish they’d gone bankrupt far before she read it. All of east Asia has fallen into anarchy, lucky countries, such as Australia, have managed to keep it to martial law, out of desperation. Business in Europe is rapidly declining, and border policies are infinitely more strict than at any time before. The claim to a nation with no infected citizens has become a bragging right, and cure research is few and far between, claiming they have been: “actively working towards a solution”. She walks to her kitchen, and prepares the breakfast she had rationed for herself the night before. She takes a glance at the door to her roommates room, it doesn’t even look like a room anymore, bundles of quarantine tape around it, with a smell of chemicals. Everything inside has been destroyed, tampered with to the point of destruction, or nabbed by she assumes to be the government for the cause of “science”.

A few days later…

She puts on her “outside” suit, as she’d come to call it, a combination of torn apart hazmat suits and other items she thought would help her not join the many millions of casualties in the massive quarantine zone that was her city. She takes a step outside, and looks upon the wonderful wasteland outside of her apartment building. Blood and other unusual liquids paint streaks in the road, and bodies litter the street as if dispensed from a chute in the sky. She begins her morning jog to the store, hoping to meet with the usual survivors to trade random commodities and talk about how miserable life was nowadays.

After a saddening encounter with a barely alive.. definitely infected.. thing, chasing her, she finally reaches the store. To her utmost surprise, the store is completely leveled, and there is evidence of the appearance government appearance on site, mostly the scorch marks and tire treads made from what was obviously the government’s “quarantine division”, whose job was to pick off all the citizens of a quarantined zone. She reasoned the government thought it was more  “efficient”. She was glad she’d been late to the meeting here, the quarantine division had most likely caught on to where they’d been meeting, and struck a couple of easy targets. Tough luck for them, she thought, and continued about her day.

That night…

She gasped, and awoke. Around her was not what she usually woke up to, she looked over a planet, the earth, or so it seemed. It was different, yellow and brown, she could sense there was no life there, nothing, just nothing.

It’s not impossible, just improbable.

If it’s improbable, it’s still possible.”

a short story by Eamon Peach

For fear that this never got published, I really wanted to put this here. Of course, I think it’s very good, I’m his mother. And I hope that college finds him polishing his writing skills. Meanwhile, he’s just an average American young man about to turn 15 years old.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

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