To Write or Not To Write - Wait What Was the Question?

Sitting here, staring out the window in my living room, I find myself with about 6-7 different thoughts flooding my brain, and yet none have to do with the topic at hand.

“I really should go to the grocery before it rains.”

“Hmm, I wonder if all the school districts had off today. Maybe I should call my daughter and check to see if she had off.”

“Oh, did I remember to feed the cat?”

“Look its lunch time. Do I want to order something or just make a salad?”

All these thoughts running through my head and yet I kept having to remind myself to focus. For me this is my own personal version of writer’s block. It’s not something that happens on an occasional happenstance, but rather one I am working to learn to overcome; to stay focused and on target, rather than becoming distracted. Some days it is more difficult than others, but that is what ADHD is like.

As far as where to begin, this is a bit more difficult for me. I find, quite often, the ending to be the hardest for me, due to the fact that I am never sure if I am ready for what I am writing to end. Research papers are the worst, as I have to maintain word count and length of paper. Being told to cut a paper down to size is horrible to me… “You mean you wish me to murder my child? Do you not know this is a piece of my soul and now you wish me to mutilate it? You are asking me to rip apart my very being!” Yes… yes… being a bit overly dramatic there. Standing applause is now acceptable, and yet the feelings behind the words are apt. The writings never simply words. The research and hours poured figuring out how to express my thoughts upon a subject in order to maintain an academic integrity, but to also creatively get across my ideals, how it cannot be difficult.

My fears come not from the writing itself, but rather from the rejection of my peers and those I hold in respect above me. The writing is more of a sanctuary for me. A place I have always been able to retreat, no matter what foster home I was placed in, or what life threw at me this year, month, day or hour. To share… to have the strength and courage in order to be brave enough to share without retreating into a panic attack. Aye… there’s the rub.

Family today, Gone Tomorrow

Family - noun fam·i·ly \ˈfam-lē, ˈfa-mə-\

Dictionary:

: a group of people who are related to each other

: a person's children

: a group of related people including people who lived in the past

Thesaurus:

a group of persons who come from the same ancestor family

made remarkable contributions to American life for more than two centuries>

Synonyms blood, clan, folks, house, kin, kindred, kinfolk (or kinfolks), kinsfolk, line, lineage, people, race, stock, tribe

Related Words blended family, nuclear family; extended family, household, kith; brood; descendant (also descendent), issue, offspring, progeny, scion, seed; clansman, kinsman, kinswoman, relative; dynasty

Near Antonyms ancestry, birth, descent, extraction, origin, pedigree

When I hear the word “Family” a part of me looks up confused.  I find myself still that little girl stuck back in the slums of Kingston, hoping that someone will choose me.  The word befuddles me and has for as long as I can recall.  I remember the boys who lived down the street, two of them about my brothers’ ages.  Though we were never allowed to play with them, I would look to their parents wishing, hoping, praying, in the innocent ways of a child, that these strangers would wake up and realize the straggly girl down the street with the bruises upon her body was their long lost daughter. 

With each foster home I was transferred my definition of the word “family” became a little bit more fractured and a lot more cynical.  Was not a family supposed to be parents who wanted to keep me?  Obviously there was something wrong with me.  Was I not pretty enough… strong enough… good enough… Maybe if I changed the way I spoke and my mannerisms the new “family” would wish to keep me. 

As the years flowed by, rushing forward into time and space with the rampant flow of a raging river, my hopes for “family became diminished.  No one was going to adopt me.  No foster family was going to wake up tomorrow and keep me.  I did not need nor trust “family” for in the end the phone would ring sending you onto the next place.  “Family” was a temporary way station while I waited for the new ticket onto my next destination. 

It was not until I became pregnant with my daughter, Cassie, at 19, that my much skewed view of “family” began to change.  All of a sudden, where no one had been there previously, now this tiny being was reaching out from inside me, depending upon me.  Where I had been searching for parents, I was now one.  She would help me to understand that you make your own “family”, when there is none.  She became my “family” and 6 years later her sister would join us.

I finally had that which I had searched for, and then run from, only to find that I could not escape.  The idea of “family” is not one that can be simply defined within a dictionary.  It is more than bloodlines and relatives.  As I look back upon my past I may not have been wanted in a traditional sense, by neither my biological parents, nor any of the foster parents I was placed with, but I did learn lessons in how to become a mom for the future.  I learned what I wished for my “family;” the one I would create for myself. I am still that little girl confused and mistrustful of the idea of "family;" and yet I am also a woman, who loves and cherishes the gift of two beautiful young ladies who call me mom.

References:

(Merriam-Webster)

http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/family

How Now Brown Cow

I wish I could sit here as I am typing and make it simple by stating "I was inspired to write by Shakespeare's Masterpieces.  The Bard himself spoke to me as I lifted the pages of Much Ado About Nothing, and I could feel the flow of words as they washed over me."  I honestly wish I could turn to a source and point with my fingers "Your fault...  You made me who and what I am." Unfortunately, life and my mind is never so simplistic, nor easy in being able to comprehend the where, who and why write. 

An artist walks along the path of the Adirondacks, only to become inspired by the drops of rain as they cling to the leaves.  He wishes to express this beauty of nature and life upon his canvas.  He shows sweeping strokes of multi-shaded greens and browns mixing with faint blues, yellows and reds.  For him, his paintbrush is his pen.  His canvas is his laptop and he will bring to life his vision.  I on the other hand, view the same woods, and my canvas comes to life in the imagery I create with words.  I seek to bring to life not only how it felt to walk along the path, being careful not to disturb the spotted red Eft lounging on a log, but to help those who may read my words use their imagination and light their senses. 

Can you smell the dampness in the air from the freshly fallen rain?  The fragrance of wet wood, moss, and leaves permeates and perfumes the environment around me.  Off in the distance I see two young deer lounging, unafraid of those who intrude upon their home.  They obviously know I am there, and yet do not flee.  How can I bring to the reader this beauty except by the use of language and my imagination? 

For me writing is not just an outlet, it is food; a hunger, welled deep within my flesh and body, that has been with me since I was a child, sitting in the dark, creating stories in order to keep the “monsters” at bay.  So sit back… relax… have a cup of tea… and let me tell you a story.  Once upon a time, in a land not so far away…

Who for art thou, Shannon?

College has always been a goal that was important to me, even as a small child.  I believe I first encountered the idea of college and furthering my education when I was six and living within a foster family in the Town of Rosendale.  Both my foster parents at that time were Educators within the NYS School System.  Both helped me to gain a love for reading and learning, of which stayed with me even as I was placed back with my biological mother.  In truth, returning to live with my mother made me only more determined to gain a College education.  This became my star… my hope for escape.  I knew that if I gained my education I could one day become more than what I was surrounded by: poverty, depression, abuse and addictions. 

I continued with my love for reading even as I re-entered the NYS Foster Care System at age 11.  Bouncing around the system I did not have the most stable nor dedicated environment that induces learning in a child, and yet I sought solace in my books.  I would graduate and gain that degree.  I would become somebody.  These were the goals of a child, placed in circumstances beyond her control; not the goals of an adult having to deal with life and what becomes of choices one has to make in order to survive. 

Not only was I dealing with the horrors of my upbringing, but I was an Epileptic and I had been diagnosed with ADHD.  As the years rolled and tumbled by it became more difficult to reach out and obtain that goal I had originally set for myself.  The idea of a classroom environment was something I feared.  Questions would go through my head of how others would look at me if I was to have a seizure in the classroom; which would in turn set the stage for depression and anxiety to take control of my mental state. 

This is not to say I did not ever attempt college, for I had twice.  The first time was right after my older daughter was born.  I attended Hudson Valley Community College with the idea of beginning there and transferring on to SUNY Albany.  Unfortunately, my Epilepsy kicked in and my seizures became active, making it so that I was unable to attend classes on a frequent enough basis.  My GPA plummeted and I had to drop out. 

I would make my second attempt at gaining my degree when I was 32.  I enrolled as a full time student in the Paralegal Program at Schenectady County Community College, SCCC for short.  I was actually doing quite well until my second semester.  I was taking Intro to Algebra, and the professor I had for that course seemed to not be happy about teaching the course.  I have always known I have a math disability, what that disability was I did not know or understand until this past year.  According to the doctors, the part of my brain that has been damaged by seizures was the area that retains math.  I would sit in the classroom and learn, taking extensive notes; only to have forgotten everything I learned minutes later.  When it came time for Mid-term Review with my Professor, she stated to me “You would be better off dropping out of College.  You will never graduate.”

To be frank, this professor’s words haunted me.  It would take me another 9 years before I could find the strength and the courage within myself to in order to make the third and final attempt.  It was a friend who pointed the way towards SUNY ESC; and made note that I could take courses online, in the safety of my apartment, thereby relieving the fear of seizures in public.  I am now holding stead a GPA above a 3.5 and I am in my second year here at ESC.  My goals have not changed from when I began college back in 1993; to obtain my degree in Creative Writing and History.  Only now I hope to be able to use the degree and knowledge I obtain through my studies to help teach others online at a college level.

Me, Myself, and I - Observation and Reflection 20 minute Free Write

As I sit here trying to decide what to write about for the next twenty minutes, I can hear the wind blowing with harsh demand outside my living room window.  Its call draws my eyes upwards and away from the screen in order to see the trees bending and swaying with great effort.  I notice not only is the wind seeking the attention of all, but the skies themselves have darken with storm clouds, looking to once more release upon us mere mortals the fury of nature.  El Nino they call the weather cycle this year, and yet I cannot help but wonder at Nature’s ever temperamental behavior as it lashes against the structures of humanity.  Who is the greater destructive force?  Man or Nature?

The scent of Salted Caramel wafts towards me as I consider my thoughts.  I had only recently lit the candle I bought two weeks ago from Yankee Candle Store in Crossgates Mall.  Its scent brings to mind memories of fall and reminds me it is almost time for that trip to the Carrot Barn for their famous Carrot Cookies, not to mention Apple Picking at Altamont Orchards.  Mmm… just the thought of Apples brings to mind Apple Cider Donuts.  I have to admit, fall is definitely my favorite of the four seasons.  So many scents and delicious goodies to be found; it is like a treasure trove of treats!  Though I have to be careful this year with that Halloween Candy Corn!  Too much temptation there for my diet! 

I am sitting here typing as I think of all the things I am looking forward to about the fall season.  I have my favorite deep red knitted blanket tucked about my legs; while the couch pillows are piled about me.  Who says you cannot be comfortable in your environment!  I love the tones of country.  Soft moss greens, tans, and burgundies; these colors can be found throughout my house, along with bookshelves filled with books, both in my bedroom and living room.  Laughs, there is even books found in the bathroom, I just can’t seem to help myself. 

I did take a break from responding this morning to the discussion pieces to attend Aqua Aerobics.  Honestly, I am glad I did.  I think it is important that I make a true effort to keep up my exercising, especially through the semester.  It will help me with the stress and the anxiety levels.  My neurologist agreed with me.  I am less likely to have a seizure if I keep my stress levels down a notch.  He is a big supporter of me continue with Aqua and Yoga classes, though I have yet to try working on the machines.  I think I am a bit leery about that next step.  Perhaps next spring I will be ready for that step.  One small step for Shannon at a time! 

As I bring this free-write to a close I can’t help but wonder what the semester is going to bring.  I feel a well of excitement and a small dose of anxiety lifting and fluttering about in my stomach.  The classic butterflies, as one is want to describe them.  Whatever happens this semester, the one thing I can be sure of is that I will be changed.  I can already feel that happening.  Time’s up… the beeper goes off.   Once more back to reality…