Life is hard, but you’re NOT alone!

Not asleep yet. So many emotions. Third friend/classmate in three years who’s taken his own life. Troubled. I’m so troubled. Full of sadness and frustration.

Life is hard. It’s so freaking hard! I know this because the past four years have been HELL for us in this family. There are times when I haven’t wanted to get out of bed or even wake up the next day and face another day of b.s. and soul-crushing challenges. But nobody ever promised me that life would be easy, and although it’s rough terrain, I have no idea what awaits me over the next mountain pass (so to speak) and I’m not giving up on this journey until I see what the next roadside attraction is.

I don’t know what YOUR b.s. and soul-crushing challenges are, but every day IS another day…and all cycles end. Nothing stays the same forever. Some cycles are longer than others. Some cycles feel like an eternity (believe me, I’m in the middle of one of them!) I just know that, although it doesn’t seem like it right now, you CAN make it and you CAN get past these things you’re dealing with.

Please, please listen to me: I can’t do much, but if you are having a hard time and you need to talk to someone — if you’re to the point of NO RETURN — please get in touch with me or at least talk to someone…please reach out…please don’t cross that line of no return. Okay? Please do this for me, friend? Here is a number you should write down and put where you have it at all times. Memorize it or do whatever…just USE it, if need be:

1 (800) 273-8255
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
Hours: 24 hours, 7 days a week
Languages: English, Spanish

Life can be dark, painful, disturbing, and any number of other things. But think of life as a book full of chapters, full of pages, full of plot twists. You are the author. You are writing this book. You can’t control everything, but you can control your part and how you react or act upon things.

Look, I can be blunt at times and come off as an a-hole at other times, but deep inside, I’m really not. You matter. You freaking matter, okay? Believe it. Know it. We have more laughs to share here…and if I haven’t offended you yet, then you HAVE to stick around, ’cause I’m trying! *smile* Plus I have more dirty jokes to post and crazy stuff to share.

In all seriousness, you’re gonna be okay. You got this. Promise. And if you need to lean on others to find your strength again, then take my hand…and someone else’s…and someone else’s beyond that. It’s okay if you feel fragile, weak, worn out. You’re human. We all are. And until you can find the strength to support yourself and stand strong again, there are those of us out there who will help you stand.

Reach out…my hand is waiting.


On the Cusp of the Big 5-0

It’s now December 16th. My last day of being 49 years old. What a trip!

I used to think 30 was old, and I in NO WAY feel like I’m turning 50 tomorrow, on Wednesday. That’s a half-century old!

Where did the time go, I ask?

Ah, well. I’ve learned a lot of things, made plenty of mistakes, had tons of laughs, cried a whole bunch, and met a lot of interesting people along the way.

I’m ready for my next 50 years, please and thank you benevolent (yet sometimes challenging) Universe.

I heard if you haven’t grown up by the time you’re 50, you don’t have to. A good thing, since I wasn’t planning on it anyway! *cackle*

Welsh dreams…

Paul is watching “Penny Dreadful.” Timothy Dalton is in the series and I melt every damned time I see him in anything, pretty much. *sigh* Plus, he’s Welsh.

In the copy of the genealogical papers I have from the family historian on my birth mother’s side, my 9th generation ancestors, William Hughes and (Mary) Molly Daten, married in Surrey, England. Molly Daten was born in Wales and lived to be 87. They had six children: Mary Hughes (1748-1810), Susannah Hughes (1767-1834), Rebecca Hughes (1769-Unknown), Elizabeth Hughes (1774-1870), Moses Hughes (1774-1841), and Milburn Hughes (1776-1867).

I have Scottish ancestors as well (Clan Fergusson and Clan MacNeil of Barra), but I haven’t spent as much time investigating my Welsh, Irish, and Northern European ancestry.

After having my DNA test done, there are so many parts that make up the whole. I love this stuff!

Perhaps when I go back to the UK, I can visit Wales and see my friends Gareth Tamplin and Robin James Ganderton.

Trying to process it all…and failing

My brother, Leo, sent me a photo of my mom sleeping. It looked like a 19th century death photo—not kidding. I’m still trying to process it. She isn’t coherent and isn’t able to communicate with me over the phone. She is having massive panic attacks and is combative with staff. She no longer recognizes my brother and I doubt she knows who I am anymore.

I’m sorry to be a downer, but I can’t not mention all this, because it’s what’s happening now and it’s my mother. I cannot not discuss how devastating this is and how it’s affecting my every waking moment. How I know I need to be at peace with letting her go because she needs to transition peacefully, but how I’m not ready to lose my mother.

She adopted me, raised me, made me who I am in so many ways. But in the end, to love her is to want final peace for her. When she is gone, a big part of me will go with her.

I want to thank my loving, sensitive husband for being with me at this time and helping me through this. He is an angel incarnate. Such a gentle, understanding soul. I love you, Paul.

Bev’s vlog for 1.21.2014: Serve your own plate

On the heels of my husby’s, here’s my latest vlog. He does it better, but he’s a natural at it. I’m a writer, after all. He’s a video guy. *sigh* Probably should’ve done this second vlog back on the 16th, but hey, I didn’t. Pfft! I’ll be posting them every week to two weeks throughout the year. And hey, just like on FB, you just never know what tripe will come outta my mouth. But that’s part of the fun, right? RIGHT?!

Dreams that terrify, haunt, and warn

Quite often, my dreams scare me. They’re always intense, always intricate, always complex. Unfortunately, I don’t always dream of good things. I dream of horrific things. On occasion, I dream of things that happen in real life. I also dream about things that could happen in real life, but haven’t. Still, the thought that they could completely horrifies and haunts me.

An example would be the dream I had last night. In the dream, my husband and I were at a mall. Now, in real life, I avoid malls like the plague. I don’t care for crowds, I hate shopping (didn’t get that female gene, apparently). If I could order everything online, I would. I’m an introvert, so going to the mall isn’t my thing. Too many people, too much noise, too much sensory irritation.

But I digress…

In the dream, we noticed a small, remote-controlled Army-green truck buzzing along through the mall. I looked around, but didn’t see who was operating it. I shrugged it off because there were toy stores in the mall, as there always are. Probably someone trying out the truck for their kid or something, I figured.

Suddenly, the small truck exploded, but it was such a massive explosion that it blew up a huge part of the mall. People were running and we were trying to get out of there to save our lives. Apparently, a person had fitted the small truck with some sort of explosive that was powerful enough to detonate and cause bodily injury and massive property damage. In hindsight, after we escaped, we realized it had been a terrorist attack! Needless to say, I was shaken up after the dream. It was too real, and the fear I felt was palpable.

I recounted the dream to my husband upon awakening, telling him that the scariest part about the dream was that it seemed like something that could happen in real life, if some diabolical, heartless SOB decided to do such a thing. This is why I say my dreams are often so terrifying and realistic that I wake up traumatized.

Who wants to dream about such things—and then worry about them happening in real life? I know there’s a slim chance that anything like that would happen, but with the constant influx of bad news in the world and not knowing what terrible people are out there and what is brewing in their twisted minds, I DO worry about such things. After all, I live in Colorado Springs, which isn’t that far from the Aurora theater where James Holmes decided to maim and kill people who’d innocently gone to see a Batman movie in July of 2012.

I also tend to have night terrors, and my poor husband has been on the receiving end of those terrors one too many times. Instead of running from my terrors, I tend to charge at whatever it is (or what I think I’m seeing) and I try to fight it. As you can imagine, this isn’t a safe response for anybody in the same bed or in the same room.

I suffer from PTSD (diagnosed in mid-2006), so night terrors have been a part of my life for a while. They’re not fun, and there’s certainly nothing funny about them. If you’ve never felt genuine terror take hold of your body and shake you from the inside out, I can tell you it’s not pleasant. It is NOT true that only combat veterans, police officers, or firefighters have PTSD. Civilians and everyday people have it as well.

Having an overactive imagination is a blessing and a curse. When I was a small girl, the pediatrician told my mother I shouldn’t watch any shows with frightening or supernatural images. According to her, he said my imagination was such that even watching something as seemingly harmless as Casper the Ghost could frighten me and cause me to have issues. Quite frankly, I didn’t care about Casper as much as I did Dark Shadows. Mom would send me for a nap when Dark Shadows was on, but I remember trying to peek around the corner so I could watch it.

Thankfully, I grew up and was finally able to see classic episodes of the campy soap opera that featured vampires, werewolves, witches, and the like. I also grew up loving dark fiction, cutting my teeth on Stephen King’s books as a young girl. My husband and I have a huge collection of horror movies, both classic and modern. You can try to take the girl out of the horror, but in the end you can’t take the horror out of the girl.

There’s a good chance I’ll keep dreaming horrifying dreams. I’ll wake up terrified—and sometimes crying—but I doubt my mind will ever stop conjuring up intense stories, characters, or plots. I try to remember some of them and jot them down, especially if I think those stories might lead to a viable short story or a novel. Other dream tales I don’t care to remember because they’re too traumatic or distasteful. Most of all, I can only hope that the other dreams I have—of tragedies about to happen or those that could happen in real life—don’t occur at all.

Yes, I know it’s not healthy to live in fear, but I think it’s wise to be aware of our surroundings, to take note of anything that seems out of place, and to report it to authorities if you have any suspicions. We are all busy, we all have lives to lead, we all have errands to run. But in this day and age, vigilance is imperative; we must look out for one another. We all exist in our own microcosm to some degree, but we should make an effort to remember that we are also connected to others and to the larger world in general. We are all responsible, to some degree, for what happens in this world while we’re in it.

With that said, I hope my dream never comes true. Maybe by writing this blog post, the potential for this dream-horror will be snuffed out, never to manifest into reality. I pray it never does.

In my oddly optimistic way, I wish more people would evolve, stop engaging senseless violence, realize we are all connected, and begin to act in a more self-actualized way. I want my children to grow up in a world that’s kinder and more thoughtful. Unfortunately, that’s one pleasant waking dream I’ll probably never see realized. But one can hope, right?