There's no reason for me

not to be writing every evening. At this moment instead of focusing my emotion efforts on those I care about, my readers and other emotionally crazy fabulouses', I'm sorting through my Epic because with its current update all my songs got messed up. Now tell me, what would be more productive with my time? Sorting music, which I can do on the train to and from my gerbil cage made of brick, or writing down my life in bold type to eventually share with the world and possibly help those that are looking for it? Ok...ok...okay! I got it. So here I am typing away, getting mentally prepared to re-spill my guts out on digital paper. Here's the thing about it. I like to write when I am alone by myself, just me and my thoughts. Right now is as good as any. My hubby is passed out on the floor, I have laundry doing its thing, and I just finished a glass of tea....NO I am 70 years old. But damn it certainly sounds like it doesn't it. I'm not going to be much more "alone" than this.

Why this is just restarting now you ask? Over the summer, me and my mighty pen took to the summer sunshine and began to rip my mind apart via notebook. The first chapter that seemed fitting to start with was one of the biggest, my dad. I want to write a series of books on how all the relationships in my life helped carve out the person I chose to be and ended up (presently). I wrote in the present tense. Now if you are an avid reader of mine, you will notice that I kinda jump all over the place, not sticking to one tense or another. I write how I talk, it's my thang. Its how I resonate and choose to read authors that do the same. Being the ever dying perfectionist, I chose present tense so my readers are in my shoes, seeing what I see and feeling what I feel......holy shit was that hard! I've never written in that tense outside of poetry. come to think of it, my poetry is pretty heart wrenching also. Anyhoo, so as I am writing and spilling and thinking and filling these pages in some kind of serial killers handwriting I am reliving all the crazy, painful and strange experiences of having MY dad be my dad. Then out of nowhere it hits me like a ton of bricks. I am and was barely in control of who I am. I thought I was. I thought I had been making a full conscious effort to mold myself to the person that I've always wanted to be. But to my dismay that is only partly true. The figurative walls of my soul started crumbling down all around me. The parts of my personality from being able to never sit still, to my constant need for knowledge, attention and affection all stem from the relationship or lack of it with my alcoholic father. Now there are major parts of myself I've been in control of, such as my compassionate awareness and love for others that I have chosen to live. But the other parts like having to be good at everything, failing as little as possible, and my fear of confrontation with those I love.....ALL DADDY ISSUES! I was a mess. I had been hiding inside of myself for the sake of my marriage, being the good wife. But it wasn't a "good" thing at all because I wasn't being me. Yuck! Because I rock! And my hubby needs to see that!

I, also, saw how that pattern started showing up in all my other relationships. Now I guess its not that bad considering I married a wonderful man, even though he has few but similiar traits of many other Aquarians in my life. Not "all" bad. At least I can acknowledge those traits and know when to dodge the incoming spray of unbridled, sometimes delusional, emotion. YA, I said it! Oh, my dad was King Aquarius!

So with that all being said, I had A LOT of emotional clean up to do. It was also a time where I totally lost myself once again. I am constantly changing back and forth, never really knowing my purpose or my identity and that's a scary thing for a control freak like myself. Before I could come back to writing and spilling my life, heart, blood and tears on paper, I had to make sure that all the cracks that I have in my heart are acknowledged and on the mend. Yes, I was scared to write. This is what happens when you decide to become totally and completely transparent for the sake of others. They see your scars and to my surprise some of my scars were open confused wounds aching for a healing touch of acknowledgement.

So there it is. Even though you will not being seeing all that I write for my series of books, whaaaaa I know. I will keep you updated on my progress, breakthroughs, and epiphanies. This is going to be a hard journey for me because it's still ongoing.

Enlighteningly yours, Merry Ms Berry