A reminder before some more reminders…
Join me this Saturday, January 8, 2022 (4 pm EST), for GCLS Writing Academy After Dark presents “Small Bites: Flash Fiction” with Virginia Black, Olwen Wilson (me!!!), Slawka G. Scarso, and Renee Young, moderated by Finnian Burnett.
We’ll be discussing the flash fiction genre and I’ll be reading my story, “More Sludge Than Pink Popsicle Sticks”. This is the one that will soon be published in an upcoming Flash Fiction Festival anthology after receiving a runner-up contest placement.
Click here for more details and to register. It’s free.
Some more reminders…
Where I live in the world, new (old) pandemic restrictions went into effect yesterday that bring new (old) noise and new (old) heart and soul aches with them.
Of course, I’m not surprised by any of it.
I’m privileged that these new (old) guidelines/rules can make my life easier in many ways. Being immunocompromised, I can’t lie and say I’m not grateful that it’s less crowded in my grocery store. And being cooped up with my favourite people and cats was already (mainly) heaven.
But I know these decisions being made can also make life a living hell for many people as well.
I know I’ve told you that we need to talk about suicide before. And how to find ways to move forward even when your grief insists on whispering horrible lies in your ear.
But the vibes I’m picking up lately suggest now might be a good time to remind you again…
Please continue to talk about suicide.
Share your stories. Someone may need to hear exactly what you have to say.
Here’s one I haven’t told you yet.
After launching my visual journaling course, I felt pretty low.
I’d poured my heart, soul and spirit into it. The stories I included are personal. Usually only shared with a trusted few. And once it was available for participants (strangers) to see/hear/read/know, I felt empty, depleted and regretted some of the choices I made. (Click here to read what Chani Nicholas recently shared about this.)
While I was proud of everything included in the course, being that honest and vulnerable made me want to disappear forever.
Over the last few years, I’ve noticed that my mental health takes a hit after I complete a creative project. The bigger the creation, and the more emotionally invested I am in it, the bigger the hit.
And on a Friday night in July 2021, I forgot this.
On this night, my thoughts began to spin.
I tried my trusted go-to methods to bring some calm and give me a mental boost. But they weren’t helping me find relief. Then suicidal thoughts joined the mix. And they became the annoying drunk guys at the bar that were starting to get a little handsy. It was getting harder to ignore them.
And I was ashamed that I found myself in this situation.
I had just completed a huge creative project about visual journaling. Something I LOVE. And creating the course brought me so much fucking joy. But on this Friday night, it wasn’t enough.
Everyone was asleep in my house and my shame convinced me not to wake them. It also told me not to call a good friend because it was their mother’s birthday. I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt their celebrations. But I was struggling to sit with these thoughts alone for what felt like forever.
Thankfully I eventually remembered some of the tools I learned in the suicide first aid training to get through it.
And on this Friday night in July 2021, probably the most successful part of my plan to keep myself safe involved the fourth season of Atypical (Netflix).
If I feel for, or relate to the characters in books, shows or movies, I consider them my friends. And I was sad to have to say goodbye to my Atypical friends because season four would be their last.
At first, my plan involved binging the entire season as a distraction. But I was enjoying it so much that my mood improved. And my plan evolved into turning it off after a few episodes so that I could continue my last visit with my Atypical friends the next day.
And it worked.
I watched the final episodes so I could say goodbye to them on Saturday. And by making it to the next day and getting some rest I had an easier time finally talking with my husband and my friend about how I was feeling Friday night.
While my plan may have been weird, it kept me safe. And life’s more interesting when it’s weird.
I’m also forever grateful for the tools, plans and training I’ve experienced that help me continue to care for my mental health.
So what do you think I’ll remind you of next?
Take a suicide first aid training course.
Please note that I have not taken this training, nor am I associated with the organization. But it’s the same organization behind the suicide first aid training I’ve taken that I still refer to every day. Every. Day. (Not just on that Friday night in July 2021.) Check it out if it’s applicable. Share it with anyone you know who could use it. And I wish this was available worldwide.
And consider all the ways that experiencing grief impacts you.
I highly recommend Being Here, Human’s Grief Literacy* training because it’s helped me process so many different kinds of loss, not only death. (I completed levels 1 and 2.)
*IMPORTANT: Being Here, Human has unfortunately closed down their services as of Dec. 1, 2022.
It’s important to keep this in mind too. It’s applicable no matter what you do.
It’s also a free preview of the course I mentioned above.
The same course where I share how a visual journaling practice helps me get thoughts out of my head and recognize patterns I want to change. And remember things I’ve forgotten, or I wasn’t able to see when they were hidden away inside. I share this all so you can find ways the best ways to make your visual journaling practice work for you.
And it’s the same course where you and I can come together to connect and create in community with other registered participants weekly next month.
PS. I absolutely loved the second season of Work in Progress (Showtime)! I was debating which episode was my favourite, but I found them equally charming. Even when they weren’t tackling any charming subject matter. While I appreciated the first season, the second season made me get a tattoo of its name on my heart.
PPS. This is what happens when my menfolk and I discover goose poop dropped in a perfect smiley face on a sidewalk. We’re all talented at turning shit into art. The photo was taken in July 2021.