3 Brave Choices, 1 Option

To her, being brave means accepting the truth. Though knowing the truth means a great deal of pain. But without realizing these truths, living day to day, hour to hour and minute to minute is harder. The pain is still in there, but eating away at the insides. But, recalling, accepting, and ‘feeling’ those painful truths, really is the only way to be free of them and to make space for new and positive chapters to enter.

There are three choices: one, to numb out and repress. Two, to end the pain permanently. Or three, to look at it and release it. Bravery of the 1st one allows the self to continue each day. Bravery of the 2nd choice is to not fear the unknown. And the bravery of the 3rd, is the most painful. But ultimately, because options 1 and 2 have been tried and exhausted and hadn’t worked, remains the only one left to do.

And so ends this very, very short tale of someone who tried to repress the pain: Who tried to permanently end the pain: And then began to face the pain. And only by doing that, has put into motion what can only be described as the new beginning of a very long and painful end.

 

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The Daily Post prompt ‘Brave’.

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Final

I have never seen someone so frazzled. I’ve got to go up and help her before she has a coronary.

“Meggie love, why don’t you come down for a bit, it be good to take the load off for an hour or two”.

“Mum! I haven’t got time! Exams start tomorrow – as you well know – and I need to prepare. Can you seriously not see how much work I’ve got?!!”

“Okay, but you’ve got to take a break, love”

“Mum!! if I really want your advice I’ll ask! Shut the door on your way out!!”

There wasn’t much I could say to that. But I will be knocking on her door later to come down for dinner. Surely she’s aware that she must eat.

She doesn’t come down to eat. Not tonight nor the following several nights. It’s the same routine: I knock, she yells, and I end up leaving sandwiches outside her door. Thankfully, the plates are always empty by the morning.

I know exam week is tough and getting her A-Levels is a massive deal, but what I can’t understand is why not grade them throughout the year instead of condensing everything they’ve learned into one final exam, expecting them to have it all memorised?? It makes no sense to me.

Today is the day. She’s taking her last exam. I’m a bit nervous about her coming home. I don’t know what mood she’ll be in. I’ve never seen her so stressed and I’m hoping she’ll be able to relax now.

I hear the front door opening and she comes in. I’m worried.

“Hello, love. All alright?”

Without even acknowledging me, she tramples dirt into the lounge carpet. Plonks herself onto the sofa. Kicks off her muddy trainers before putting her feet up on the coffee table – which she knows I hate. The Remote control is already in her hand and she starts flicking through the TV channels. It doesn’t seem to matter that I was actually watching something. And then, she says her favourite three words…..

“Mum, I’m hungry”.

She doesn’t even look at me, just carries on flicking through the channels.

My daughter is one of the laziest, cockiest and arrogant people I’ve ever met. She thinks that I’m her servant put on this earth to clean after her, feed her and generally be her dogsbody.

But, now that the stress of exam week is finally over, I can see my baby is back to her usual,  ‘delightful’ self.

I walk to the kitchen to fix her something to eat, and I smile 🙂

 

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Hello! Today’s prompt is ‘Final’  from The Daily Post. You can visit and have a read of everyone’s take on the prompt by clicking here! 🙂

Knackered

Genre: Humour/Humor & That’s Life

 

Knackered

 

Knackered…. What does it even mean?

I am probably the definition of Knackered. Broken. Tired. Over the hill.
I think I have been around too long.

You do get worse for wear as you get older. Until you get there though, your teenaged feelings of invincibility slowly gets replaced with that unavoidable fact – that you did get old, just like those you once looked up to. Those that seemed to be born middle-aged. And of course, they were right, in many ways: It’s all downhill.

I’m not being pessimistic, I am telling it how it is – You Will Age: your body gets the hardest hit.
I can’t play tennis like I used to. Shit, I can’t even run for a bus like I did 5 years back. However, I may be knackered, but I sure as hell don’t have the mental maturity of a ** year old: Well, maybe in certain areas.

Young & Old. Half and half. 50% one way, 50% the other.

So, what can I do to improve the 50% that is old and tired?
How can I shift the percentages in favour of the young aspects of my personality and being?
How do I stop my body getting worse?

Life’s millions of questions.
And hindsight. What a beautiful thing, though incredibly unhelpful.

I think everyone is searching for the fountain of youth – one of life’s greatest quests shovelling up no successes to speak of.

And Anti-Ageing: How the heck can you ‘Un-Age’? I ask myself.
It doesn’t exist. Never has and never will. It’s a wasted effort. So save yourself a few quid.

I’m now well passed my sell-by-date. The time in your life, when as a teen you never thought would happen to you and come, does. Oh dear. Here it is.

Anyway. I’m knackered and I’m off to bed. What else can I say? I’ve reached middle-agedness.
I’ll get up a bit later today.

🙂

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Daily Post Prompt – ‘Knackered’. Click here to view

VisDare 150: Encroach

Genre: Psychological/That’s Life

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Photo Source

How far would you go? How far would you go to make people believe in what you believe in?

You had that moment of epiphany when you walked the Road to Damascus. You have fresh ideas, a renewed spirit and you sense that this is it, what you’ve been dreaming of your whole life: finding The Answers which are finally here.

So, who do you tell this life-changing knowledge to?  You know that you now possess the truth. You know that your beliefs are right. You now need to  spread ‘The Truth’.

After all, you now Are ‘The Truth’.

So, how far would you go?

+ do you blatantly tell other people what they believe in is Wrong?

+ Is it your goal now to change your friends and families beliefs into yours? (because you’re still ‘Right‘)

+ do you pray for their salvation, forgiveness and mercy from the mighty one right in front of them – to their faces – because they are so misguided and abhorrently Wrong?

Now is the perfect time to take this moment to inform you what I think: Ready?.. I believe wholeheartedly that you are completely and utterly deluded!

And now, keeping that statement in mind,…

…..How am I now any different from you??

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I really hope you all got this and it made sense. I’m worried when I write that I’m not properly getting across what I want to say. I’m hoping I did today – crossed fingers 🙂

Omg, I can’t believe after all this time I’ve finally written a story! (see this previous post for what I’m talking about!). Happily, well, Very Happily I’ve wrote this story from one of my most fave weekly writing challenges: The VisDare Photo prompt. Click on the link title for this weeks VisDare 150: Encroach  stories.

I can’t verbally do the photos in this challenge justice, so all I can say is they are a lil bit different than your usual photo prompts and very interesting; They make you think outside the box, up the road and to the left somewhere. I, personally, love them and wait with anticipation for the weeks photo. For the curious amongst you, here is the link to The VisDare page right here! (just click on ‘here’!) and it will take you right there 🙂

Thanks for stopping by!

 

“Just Write”! – that’s all!

So there I was utterly convinced  (and there was no changing my mind about this) that in order for me to be any sort of writer I must have some writing related qualifications under my belt.

I cannot believe what an idiot I’ve been. I honestly thought a Creative writing Diploma or a Degree in English was the only way I was ever going to improve. The truth, though, is that they made my writing worse up to the point of there being no writing at all.

There’s something about being told how to do something and learning the technicalities of it versus actually doing the thing you’re learning about. These courses just made me scratch my head and say “Qué”? (I also felt like I needed a degree just to do a degree). And creative writing is what it is writing creatively so how can formulas and methods live happily by the side of that creativeness and imagination?… It can’t – at least I don’t think it can. And no amount of technical know-how is going to make you produce something that, in essence, is a right-brained process. It’s like oil and water – they just don’t mix.

So there I was thinking that there must be something seriously wrong with me because I couldn’t grasp all of these terminologies, guidelines, rules, structures and formulas and I was left feeling like a total failure. In short: These writing courses did the complete opposite of what I originally wanted them to do and they made my self-doubt and writers block a 100 times worse.

And here I am now, on the road to regaining my sanity. And trying to do what I was doing before all this ‘qualification necessity’ madness began: So I’m sitting down and I’m writing – which was all I needed to do in the first place (duh).

I’ve looked back over my blog to the stories I’ve wrote in the early days and most are shockingly bad! But, that’s expected so I’m not too upset and I feel quite good about the progress I’ve made (my writing sucks less! – I still suck, just not as much!). And, the most important thing is that I am still learning – maybe not from doing a Uni course, but actively in other ways which suit me.

So…. I had bit of a ‘tale-between-the-legs’ feeling before I wrote this purely because I didn’t listen to everyone who said I was good enough. So, at the moment, I’m a bit sheepish.

So, on that note, Thank You very much for having a read, leave me a comment if you wish and hopefully I will ‘see’ you back here very soon!

Take good care and have a fab week,

Vic 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Autumn Life

124 10 October 4th 2015

Autumn Life

 

Autumn: cooler weather finally here. The horrid heat of summer finally gone.

The richness of colours: Golds, Auburns, Reds, Browns; all giving the days a new perspective as the Greens have faded out.

Landscapes changing, trees shredding, flowers falling: A new phase. The cool breeze, a sun shining less brightly, skies getting darker, days getting shorter.

Every living thing changing and preparing.

Animals and birds preparing for the winter months. Stocking up on food before the frost. Migrating to warmer shores. The long-haired Cats getting back their fluffy, thick winter coats.

Temperature shifts, flus and colds erupting all around. The itch of Hayfever now at bay.

Fireplaces heating and lighting a room, listening to its crackles, fully immersed watching its flames – hypnotised.

I like this time of year….. And you???! 🙂

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This weeks ‘Sunday Photo Fiction’ . A very apt piccy!  Visit by Clicking Here

Beyond Repair?.. Not

123 09 September 27th 2015

 

Beyond Repair?.. Not

Over the past year: situations, illness’ and marred relationships had piled up – just like a pile-up on a motor track that fully ends a race. Finally, she pulled away from it all and placed it in the past, viewing it as a series of unfortunate happenings.

Starting over isn’t easy, especially if it involves a multitude of aspects in a persons life: social, health, work, spirit, beliefs, faith. If someone is to move on and start afresh, these things need to be restored and some, even reworked.

Everything that has been held dear, what once was believed in and trusted, gone.

Is the heart and soul beyond repair?

…Like the battered racing cars, they will either be crushed or fixed: the dents knocked out, the wheels replaced, the foundation that is the chassis, mended. Patience, hard work and loving dedication, until all that needs to be repaired, is.

I wish I’d of listened to my own counsel and not to the direction of others. But now I do listen to me. And through all the adversity I have suffered, the one thing that I forgot was there came fighting through…

…That which never left:

My strength.

 

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Piccy prompt from ‘Sunday Photo Fiction’. Find others’ stories if you Click Here