Tag: thesis completion

Crashing

Crashing

9 June 2017

It’s another month of spending time on the patio, writing, reading, listening, learning, growing, and finishing school.  This is week ten!!!  Two long days away.  It’s short because today is Friday and Sunday is the end of this journey.  It’s long because I am working on my thesis defense, and other components of my second final project for my English class, and revising my research paper for my 20th Century American Literature class.  The good news is the bulk of the writing is done, and I can focus on revisions.

The fence that divides my yard from my neighbors has been in disrepair again.  It’s been propped up for several weeks now.  Nothing says vulnerability as much as a fence that’s on the ground, leaving a wide-open gap exposed.  The rabbits loved it, as Duke and I would discover them eating the grass on the lawn in the mornings and evenings.  However, I felt unsettled.  Add this to the wide range of feelings and emotions that hits me at any given moment of any given day; it’s not pleasant.  But, I am no longer responsible for something major like this.

Thursday was a chaotic day.  I felt like I walked into a storm, feeling the power of the waves crashing against me.  Because of a growing strength (on many levels), I felt the force bump me, knock me around, and try to throw me off my feet.  It didn’t last anything more than a minute before I realized what was really happening.  I walked up to and through the waves, walking past the sound of them whipping and whirling, making contact and impacting rocks and the shore.  The shock factor that followed was watching me walk away. And I didn’t look back as the door closed behind me.

The next storm that soon followed was more like a shipwreck.  I braced myself.  I observed the storm, taunting me to with a destructive force, chiding, searching for any loose items that could easily be manipulated and pulled away by the brute force of wind and water. I survived, with the boat intact, but slightly battered and bruised.

A third storm of waves was released later in the evening.  I stumbled. I phoned a friend, discussing the storm, as I was in the moment, and we talked for hours.  It is nice to have friends to turn to at all hours of the day, but I still spend the worst parts of the night piecing together moments of my life alone. I still attempt to wrap my head around the train wreck that hit me at full speed not so long ago.  The short duration, and the lightning speed of actions to immediately follow, makes it nearly impossible.  But, I think I found a book that might help me understand more.  We’ll see.

Sleep still eludes me.  The adrenaline continues to pump through every crevice of my body.  The big crash is coming, but, as my friend and I agreed knowing who I am, it will occur in smaller waves, not being as dramatic…which will be rather refreshing.  But it is coming.

My revised thesis was turned in this past Sunday.  It was complete, as far as the assignment dictated.  But, to begin querying an agent or editor it still needs approximately 50,000 more words.  This means the story is not over yet!  A few edits were made, including changing the name of Nick to Adam.  It seemed to suit the character better.  He was fleshed out a little more, enough to satisfy the final thesis.  What I discovered was his back story that will be written as part of the 50k words to turn it into a complete work of fiction.  I will admit there was one moment when I thought about the 138 page thesis, pitching it as-is.  It is a great product of how hard I’ve worked for 15 months, and writing it in less than 7 months. F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote The Great Gatsby as a short novel, and the book is brilliant!  I had a rock star moment thinking mine could be just as brilliant, but the reality is if I pitched it today, it would be too short.  It still needs more.  I know exactly what I have to do, and will not waste any time writing to reach “The End.”

I am battered, beaten, torn down a little, vulnerable, uneasy, exposed, uncomfortable.  However, I am freakishly strong, independent, learning how to walk through the forces of water after walking through fire, empowered, and finding the right tools to deal with the extremely bruised psyche.  The fence is temporarily repaired, and even single boards have been reattached, so I feel safe once again. I  am focused on finishing the last remaining days of my education strong.  The final chapters of this journey are almost written to its own completion.  The bushel of lemons is on my counter again as I try to make the ultimate lemonade.  “YOU CAN DO THIS” remains on my computer monitor as I force my way through the storm that’s not quite over yet.

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Affairs of the Heart

Affairs of the Heart

“So go and tell all your friends
That I’m a failure underneath
If it makes you feel
Like a bigger man.
But it’s my-
My heart, my life
That you’re calling a lie.”   Amy Lee/Evanescence “New Way to Bleed”

23 May 2017

I have been to hell and back.  I am now suffering in limbo.  Waiting.  Waiting.  The end still seems so far away.

I think back to a conversation; one of many.  Does the heart get what it really wants?  Where does logic factor in?

If I listened to my heart, it would admonish all actions, but I have to rationalize and say it only wants something from a past that has no future.  There is no future.  I can’t even begin to heal until the end point has been reached.  The splintered heart carries a sad loss.  I have found myself right back to where I was in December and January.  Shutting the world out.  No food.  No sleep.  Just feeling.  Feeling everything.  Barely breathing day-by-day.  Studies have suffered.  The taking care of myself program seems like an epic fail.

If the heart succeeds in winning, then the thrill and adventure begins.  The ideal of having two women pursuing the one man gives reasons to feel superior to others, cocky, arrogant, and believing he might be untouchable.  The thrill comes from an ideal of returning home from week-long trips, believing there’s a wife waiting, waiting to accept him back, and ready to answer messages and emails immediately.  Lies spoken about me, about “us” produced to feel better.  Lies are just that-lies.

What happens when reality closes the door on a 13 year, 9 month marriage (15 years together)?  Does the thrill and adventure continue?  If so, how long?  How can the heart betray all logic in a short 48 hour window?  There has to be some level of hate, no-loathing towards a person they vowed to love and cherish forever; the woman who sacrificed everything, leaving family and friends behind to move to an isolated small town (relatively speaking), and giving him everything, helping him to succeed as he boasts that he deliberately prevented her from pursuing any of her dreams?  There is zero remorse for the any of the actions taken. How can “this love” move at an exponential rate in six short months?  How can anyone live with themselves with the way they’ve treated another human being with such viciousness?

I have seen the dialogue.  I have seen what is being promised.  I’ve heard it all before.  It was once told to me.  Maybe I can find comfort in this.  I still do not have comfort in the speed at which things accelerated and declined.  It’s too fast to wrap my mind around it.

I do not take solace in hearing I’ll meet somebody someday.  I know friends and family mean well; they are looking out for me, care for me, but it doesn’t help me at this point in my life, in this limbo stage.  I was pushed out of hell and pushed into limbo.  Now, I feel like it won’t stop as I am trying to be pushed out of location, pushed out of time, and pushed away from everything.  I go in my own time.  I leave when I’m ready to leave.  I cannot just pack up and move on, especially not when limbo won’t let me leave; I am still being controlled, and feel the weight of stones now pushing on my shoulders to keep me under water.  I will break away from the control when I’m ready, and my existence will be enough to shout, this hasn’t been about you; now it’s really about me.  I still believe in karma.

Now I am looking at the final push in my studies.  Week 8.  I need to finish writing the last 5,000 words of my novel/thesis, and some of this discussion plays into the narrative where Natalie is concerned.  She has questions, but no answers.  She needs to figure how to move forward on her own.  That’s kind of hard to do when you’re in a coma.  How do you soul search in your own mind, especially when you’re trapped in a hospital bed?  She needs to push boundaries.

Readers are going to ask many more as they reach the last 20 pages of the book.  I only hope they have kept reading, long into the dark hours of the night, with a flashlight, or a light on in some room; not wanting to put the book down, when published.

I didn’t think I had any tears left in me.  I didn’t think I would be at this point again, after working so hard to stand up and walk forward.  This is another stumble, although I hit the ground pretty hard for it to feel more like a thunderous fall.  I have to face the world tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day.  Then I can crawl back into my own world while everyone else is having family gatherings, picnics, camping trips, and enjoying the summer weather that arrives on Memorial Day.  I’ll read books.  Write.  Go to the gym.  Take Duke for walks.  Fill in the long days, make some white noise. The many sacrifices I have made over the trail of years seems like it was one long chapter.  If I can wade through the negativity, desertion, and isolation in limbo, moving towards hope and something better, I will get there.

I have to get there because this degree was my dream, so that I could become a better writer.  I think I’m there.  To finish, I need to get back to helping Natalie.  She’s really lost, in her own limbo; at least I have the power to give her guidance to help her succeed and get to a better place.  I think the heart believes it knows what it wants.  But if things are such a big secret, then it’s not a true reality, and the heart is playing games that will result in a hefty price to pay later.

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Struggles

Struggles

20 May 2017

I am struggling.  I am okay in saying that I am struggling.  I am okay in reaching out to ask for help because I am struggling.  I am still extremely upset about events the other day, even though I try to remind myself of the positives.  One being freedom.

I need time.  Time to finish school.  Time to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. Time to get used to some realities.  Time to distance myself.  Time to heal, but that is a larger part of time.  Time to be myself in my current, comfortable environment.

I took some time off from work to re-focus on myself.  That time is drawing to a near, and I realize it was not enough.  I have the capability to take more time off, and I will more than likely do so through July 1.  My list of tasks seems insurmountable.

Time off has allowed me to invest in the take care of me program.  Have I succeeded?  Not sure, and I am trying to figure out how to measure that success because there are some days where I measure success by simply getting out of bed, showering, dressing,and leaving the house.  Little moments of success.  There are other days where I am only breathing.  That’s it.  Anxiety is high.  My focus is shot to hell.  My thoughts are so random and heavy, I cannot exercise enough to get rid of them.

I also freed up my schedule a little to allow for more social time.  It was really nice hanging out with friends the other night.  It felt good to laugh, and not speak about this ridiculous mess; I am not a victim.  I don’t want to be out talking about a Wasband and the pending divorce.  This does not help me.  I can talk about it through my writing: my thesis, the next novel, my current poetry book, and some supportive ears who help me through.  Until I finish my education, it’s hard for me to make plans, so trying to squeeze in a few hours a week of socializing should be good.  Right?  I’m here for the long haul, so something’s got to give.

I am not being the straight A student I’ve strived so hard to be.  This pains me.  I was soo close, and this term I have been derailed at every turn.  My education, this degree in particular, is extremely important to me.  It was the first of many declarations I had to make.  I am late on assignments.  I am not giving my 100%.  I am so hard on myself.  Recently, I was told by a relative (able to relate) that I am doing great, and I am strong.

#hellingerstrong.  The women in my family possess a hidden strength that many are not aware of.  It’s also another reason why we have said the OP has not only messed with the wrong woman, but the wrong person who is the strongest in the family (as I have been told by many).  Perhaps other women in my shoes may have fallen completely apart.  There are definitely days where I feel like I’m coming unraveled.  Then there are other days when I need to be the voice for those women who cannot seem to break free.  I stood up almost right away to say, “You can’t do this to me.  This is unacceptable. I don’t deserve this.”  I respect myself too much to be kept/controlled in a relationship abandoned for what?  A thrill?  An adventure?  Getting something out of his system?  A mid-life crisis?  A harlot who sees dollar signs?  Something he’s been wanting, but could never communicate?  He didn’t try, or try to be patient as I finished school.  I was not going to allow the OP to keep me hostage for six months to figure out if the affair was going anywhere. I was not going to wait to see if the process would begin-it was becoming very obvious actions were not going to be taken, so I took matters into my own hands.

There was never a point in my life where I felt like there was nothing left.  There was never a point in these events where I felt like I hit rock bottom.  I was floating above the bottom, praying for a breathing apparatus to avoid being completely drowned.  In some ways, I am still being held under water.  Soon enough I am going to make one final push to burst out of the water using my Wonder Woman/superhero strength.

Natalie is struggling.  She’s getting frustrated because she has to keep reliving certain events to change the course of her situation.  She struggles because one individual still holds her captive.  She is drowning because there doesn’t seem to be a way to reach the surface;

Week 7 is pretty intense.  There are only 3 weeks remaining, and my novel needs to be wrapped up.  This was not the week to wrap it up.  I pray for warm weather Monday and Tuesday to allow me to be out on the patio, in the sun, with the music playing from the back room; with coffee, a few glasses of bourbon (for those emotion-heavy writing days), or some wine, but reserve beer for the weekend.  Does Natalie come out of her coma?  I guess my readers will be curious to find out.  I already have one person with a reader’s copy.  I am ready for the final segment to be finished so that I can put in (most likely) 30 hours of revisions; I spent 22 hours last term!  Significant time.  Significant revisions.  Although this time, I have to revise EVERYTHING.  <insert a whoa here because I’m feeling it, too>.  This why it’s called ENG 559-Thesis Completion.

I am still listening to my “Welcome to Hell” playlist.  I am still searching for music to add to my next playlist.  I want my friends to know there is more to my life than divorce, but the reality is the only thing I have right now is finishing school; still my saving grace.  I struggle with a life I once had. Some things have changed and I will never be a part of again.  I cannot be a wife in a relationship that was abandoned, yet I’m still expected to be waiting by the door/phone to answer down to the nanosecond.  I am waiting for apologies I’ll never receive.  I am waiting for something final to hit my email inbox.  I am waiting; I am in limbo.  I wonder if it’s possible to sleep through exhaustion because, like clockwork, my mind woke me up at 3am with the next adventure that I did not want to know about. I feel like I’m still connected to a Wasband and things I suspect come to me in other ways.  The last attachment I have is a name. These are my struggles, and they are real. Perhaps they came to surface because this was a super-emotional week for me that ended in complete exhaustion (all levels).  Or maybe it’s due to an end to several things over the next couple of weeks.  These are chapters coming to an end.  There’s a life coming to a close.  I am looking at two final chapters of my life.  I need to rise above.  I need to stare at my sticky note on my desktop monitor that still reads, “YOU CAN DO THIS.”

 

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