Yesterday, I had a really bad day. My son really raked me over the coals yesterday. It was the worst feeling in the world. And he broke my heart. He said some pretty mean stuff to me that was uncalled for. It really fucking hurt. Yes, he’s 11. But it really did level me. More like he bulldozed over me and backed it over a few times.


I didn’t snap but I did cry. He was rather mean and I’ll leave it like that. It does make me want to bring him in for therapy. I keep a closer eye on my own kids because I know the symptoms. I know the signs. My Anxiety is telling me to call the pediatrician ASAP. My Borderline wants to self-injure me. My Bipolar wants to cry. He isn’t a bad kid. He gets straight A’s.

The logical step is to remove all of his favorite things today and probably another week from today. It hurts, though. It really does. My husband wants to be the protector and I won’t allow him to be. He won’t do anything. Just takes away his stuff for an even longer time period.

Anyway, due to the fact that not anyone is really reading my work, I’ve chosen to take my manuscript off of Swoon Reads and I won’t be self-publishing any of my books ever. They will remain on Wattpad, unedited. I was going to do that anyway. It’s just time to let some dreams go. Being a popular writer, just isn’t in the cards for me. That’s okay. I can live with that. Reading other books, just makes me even more depressed about my own books. I can’t shake the past shit off. I don’t believe I ever will. That one review will haunt me for the rest of my life.

The hard part? Battling Borderline. I can hold a grudge for a long time. It’s that built-in shield of automatic protect mode. We’ve been burned, so let’s not try that again. We didn’t like that feeling, not doing it again. And when they are on the shelf, I throw up for weeks at a time. It stresses me out too much. And then these “holier than thou” authors say, “Well, if you can’t handle it, you have no business being an author.” But it was my dream. And my dream was smashed into a million pieces.

I will never be as strong as E.L. James or J.K. Rowling. Those women have more guts and courage than me. They have people going at them left and right. They manage to handle it all with grace and they always have a good comeback. When someone attacks me, I get really upset. I take it personally. So, when someone comes in from behind to say good things, I dismiss them completely. I’m always looking out for the negative things. Because the negative things, tells me everything I want to hear or see. I’m lousy, a terrible writer, no good, piece of shit, worthless, and won’t amount too much. That’s all I heard as a small child. So that’s what I believe. I’ve never received a “that’s a good girl!” “We’re so proud of you.” “You are so intelligent.” No… I got this instead. “Why can’t you be like your sister?” “What’s wrong with you?” “You won’t amount to much.” “Why can’t you win awards like your siblings?” “You’re going to grow up and be nothing.” “You’ll marry a man with a name on his shirt.” “Who would marry you anyway?” “You’re stupid.” If that’s all you heard, you aren’t going to believe anything anyone says that’s positive.

With Borderline, you want to fight back. You want to scream back. But this is my kid. I don’t like screaming. I love my kids. Even when they’re being snotty. It might be pre-teen angst. I want my son back. I miss him. He’s turned into this young man-beast. He’s loving for the rest of the week but last night, he was terrible. He’s probably right and maybe I needed someone to stop blowing smoke up my ass. Deep down, I know what he told was the truth. I am a sucky writer.


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