Humanity
Introduction
I love feeling the sand between my toes, the water splashing against my legs and watching the tide roll in and out. I still remember my first trip to the beach, even though it happened nearly fifty years ago. Our extended family caravanned to a relative's house for a wedding; they lived less than a mile away from the beach. Afterwards, our family made an impromptu stop before returning home. My little brother and I ran around in the sand, splashed around in the water, noticing its brackish flavor. We collected seashells and built a sandcastle. The beach escapade capped off a beautiful, perfect day. I knew then I wanted to live in a beach house. To finance my salt-life endeavor I would become a writer freelancing for Rolling Stone, Vanity Fair, wherever. Furthermore, I planned to write the next great American novel. I had no clue what it would be about, but my book would be a bestseller and required reading on high school summer reading lists. I would be a celebrated and in demand writer.
By Kim Brewer4 years ago in Confessions
The Voice in My Head When I Write
Recently I have started paying much closer attention to the voice in my head when I write. If you are a writer you probably know what I am talking about, or maybe it’s different for you. For me, the voice is the one that reads the words (‘out loud’) in my head as they move from my fingers, through the keys, to my screen. Depending on the topic of whatever particular writing project I am tackling at the time that voice varies considerably. It moves in tone from haranguing lecturer to sarcastic asshole to gentle comforter, and everything in between. Of course finding the words to match the voice is the real trick, or is it the other way around really? The hard part is finding the voice, the right voice for the right application, and then channeling that voice to the page in a way that conveys what the spoken word can, but in (at least) one less dimension. Without the spoken voice and body language that goes with it communicating what you really want to convey, what you really think, can be what feels like an impossible task. The joy of writing for me comes on those few occasions when that task is managed effortlessly and the words on the page and the voice in my head align just so. When that happens the missing dimension(s) disappears, and it is like I am there in the screen with the words talking directly to the reader. Like I have left a part of myself on the page, an imprint of my actual presence, but without all the messiness that comes with physical interactions between strangers. I get to say my peace, the stranger (reader) can take it or leave it, love it or hate it. In either case I did what I set out to do, and they got stuck with a little taste of my voice in their head if only for a brief moment in time. Imagine living with that voice for your entire life. That would suck now wouldn’t it? lol!
By Everyday Junglist4 years ago in Confessions
I Spent Thanksgiving Alone
"This one year, it was more than necessary to show myself I wasn't alone even when it was just me, myself, and I." I want to preface that I don't recommend this to everyone, you know yourself best. Holiday's can bring up a lot of emotions, and if you aren't in the right headspace to be by yourself please make sure that you reach out to someone. You are not alone, and your feelings are valid. That being said this is how my first ever Thanksgiving alone went.
By Kimmiekins44 years ago in Confessions
Authentic Self
"I know this is a meaningful time for you and I want you to know that I am here for you and for whatever you may need," is a sentence I offer to my patients on a regular basis. Whatever "here" may represent, I'm here. I give all I can possibly offer. As I drive home, there are days where I cry and some where I smile. Remembering what I've offered and what I've given, days I thought I had nothing to offer at all. Coming home and having nothing left. "What's for supper?" Good question. I haven't got a clue... Because I've had something else entirely on my mind. The patient, who's baby's heart was decelerating, or the patient who, at 28 weeks’ gestation presented with severe bleeding, asked me to be present for them and have gotten all that I could give for that day. I wouldn't trade it for anything else but have been drained of all that I have. When you ask me what my genuine/authentic self resembles... I see myself, offering my love, support, empathy and understanding to an individual having the best or worst day of their life. Though this may sound extremely vague to some, the demands of each person are extremely precise, and I always do my best to offer my 100%. Whether it be at work, with a patient, or at home with my significant other, or with my mother, father, dear friend, etc. Whatever someone may need, if they ask, I'm here. I'd give my soul, heart or whatever else, for someone I care about. The thing is... I tend to care a lot, for anyone, that is. I've lost myself multiple times through the process, offering more than I could give. "Why?" I've been asked this question a lot. "They're not worth it," is another comment I've gotten multiple times... Who am I to judge or decide if a person is worth of my love, energy and/or empathy? Because truly, I believe everyone deserves a chance, a second chance and/or even a third, fourth, fifth, etc. chance. What if they get it right on their fiftieth chance? What if I had given up on them on their second, third or fourth try? I know... It's a lot to give to one individual, but what if it was worth it? What if this was exactly what this person needed to make it in life? And what if I had withheld that from them? I'm slowly becoming aware that establishing our limits is a crucial, if not survival and primal necessity. Needless to say, this is very challenging. As a child, I'd often wondered if there was a God 'out there' and I'd ask if there was a way for me to 'sacrifice' my existence to end suffering of all living beings. As I think back to this now, I realize that my younger, ignorant, self was making a birthday wish that'd never come true, as I'm still here, and suffering is still very much present. I often wondered, what if there was another way for 'self-sacrifice'... What if I dedicated myself to others? So, I became a nurse. New to the profession, I'm realizing that suffering comes in all shapes and forms and that no matter how I try to erase it, it just isn't possible, but assisting and offering my support is the best gift I can possibly offer. Though, with this comes the undeniable knowledge that there is a vice accompanied with giving so much... The risk that comes with this is losing yourself partially, if not, completely. So, here I am trying to find a 'balance' in giving just enough, but not too much. I've learned, there are things you give away that you can’t ever get back whole.
By Meagan4 years ago in Confessions
Remarkably Really Me
Soap opera fans are taking notice of the pattern that is emerging with an increasing number of female actors. They will not be on screen for weeks or months but when they return they are brand new. All you have to do is look at past episodes or images of these women online and you can see they have had plastic surgery. With all due respect, it is not appealing to see faces drawn so tight that the soap star can barely open her mouth to say her lines.
By Cheryl E Preston4 years ago in Confessions
8 Of The Most Ridiculous Scenes I've Ever Dreamt Of
So our dreams don't always make sense. They just don't. They're ridiculous. Most of the time, I remember my dreams very vividly even if it's been a while. Whenever I dream of something that was funny or made me go wtf, I tend to share it with my friends and share that laugh. Some of them sort of serves as my dream diary at this point. These are just a mini compilation with 8 of the dreams that either made me laugh or go wtf after I woke up.
By Ashley4 years ago in Confessions
What I Want at 35 and Beyond
I am 35. The main focus here is not "I am" but "35," now that my ethnocentrism years are long gone and my grown-up mentality is starting to kick in. Dang it! I just said "my" twice already even after telling the readers to ignore this "self" here who is sitting in front of the keyboards trying to actively think hard in the midst of feeling completely separate from every entity in the known universe but from "I."
By Ji Na Khananisho4 years ago in Confessions
Life as an Empath: Finding the "Right Thing" to Say
Being at a loss for words is not something that happens often to me. I'm a writer, I think fast on my feet and quite frankly, I'm a chatterbox. But for some reason, when it comes to choosing words of comfort, I very often freeze, more so in person. For someone as empathetic as I am, it generally surprises people when it happens since I'm usually a walking, talking lump of caring things to say. But when things are really, really severe? Nope, I struggle...hard.
By Call Me Les4 years ago in Confessions
