Letters from Family

Happy Friday, all!

I had a very uneventful week. After turning in the edits for a manuscript I was working on Tuesday, I spent the rest of the week bumming around in my PJs.

Nothing makes you feel more like a quarter-life-crisis sufferer than not getting dressed for a week.

But shit happens, like receiving a very not-so-lovely letter from a family member about my recent weight gain. Thank you, I hadn’t noticed.  So, I was in a pretty bad emotional space.

But like my family is want to do, the news of said letter spread through the gossip line, and I got a resounding show of support which was nice.

I also don’t fault said family member for what was said. Was it rude? Yes. Do they understand that it’s really out of my control at the moment? No.

Here’s a person who has spent their whole life acutely aware of their weight; and in my 26 years of life, this person has always been on some diet or another. I’m pretty sure their self-worth is inextricably tied to their waistline.

Really, that’s a shitty existence and not how my life works.  I may be overweight at the moment, but my doctors have assured me that once I get my thyroid under control, the weight will come off.

And besides, I’m not all that worried about it. I’ve been through the ringer of testing to see where my health stands; and you know what? Despite carrying extra weight, I’m healthier than most people I know.

My cholesterol, glucose, blood pressure, and various other health readings all came out to be well within the normal range. I’m not even borderline unhealthy on anything.

So maybe I’m going through a heavier moment in my life.

I’m being proactive about it, and I am healthy.

So yes, concerned family member. I’ve gained a bit of weight. I’m okay with it, because I know it’s temporary and I’m healthy.

You, on the other hand, will continue to be wrapped up in not only what your own scale reads, but apparently mine too.  

Well you can go ahead and do that. I have more important things to worry about and refuse to spend another day bothered by your words. 

My First Panic Attack

I was 21. My first day of class was the next day, and I had put off buying my books until the busiest day of the bookstore’s year. I was in the middle of the line of about one hundred other students when I started to feel sick. It started with nausea and sweaty palms that progressively got worse the closer I made it to the cashier. By the time I got to her, my heart was pounding through my chest, I felt like I was drenched in sweat, and I was praying to God that I neither passed out or threw up. 

And she took forever. I swore she was moving in slow motion as she swiped my books, took my card, and stapled my receipts. The entire time, I felt like my hearing was muffled and constant chills ran through my body. When she finally handed me the bag, I yanked it out of her hands without so much as a thank you and all but sprinted out of the bookstore. The whole way to my car, I had to concentrate on my steps, constantly reassuring myself that it wasn’t that far. The closer I got to the car, the less sick I felt. Once in the safety of my car, I felt exhausted but fine. 

I didn’t know it was a panic attack at the time. I thought I was sick and in a way I was. After experiencing a lot more nausea, I went to the doctors and got diagnosed with vertigo due to an ear infection. I thought my suffering was over and my prayers answered since I had a cause for the symptoms. 

I was wrong. 

For months after my ear got better, whenever I’d stand in a line, I’d experience sheer panic. Grocery shopping, getting gas, a 7-11 run, all these things turned into exercises in willpower to just make it through the line without passing out. 

It got so bad that my fiancé would do most of the shopping. If I had to do it, I’d come home with red hands from constantly digging my nails into my skin as a painful distraction to center my focus. 

And my anxiety morphed over time. It became an issue whenever I was in a place where I perceived there was no easy exit. Sitting in class became a problem because if I wanted to leave, people would notice. Elevators were little pockets of hell littering my life. Being in a car that I wasn’t driving led to hyperventilation and taking sips of water like a mad person in order to keep the items in my stomach where they were. Speaking of water, not having access to water at any point in my day was the holy grail of panic triggers. Somehow water equated not throwing up. My logic: something going in means nothing can come out. 

I became borderline agoraphobic. I still went out, but my mind was always preoccupied with checking my body for panic symptoms, assessing exit strategies, worrying about how long I’d feel as normal as I could, and trying to talk myself off the ledge. Going out wasn’t fun anymore. 

My unchecked anxiety had morphed into Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

Christmas Decor Craft

My Christmas decorations are a bit lack luster. Aside from stuff for the Christmas tree and two stockings, you can hardly tell I even decorated around here. 

So I did what any girl in her 20s does. 

I went to Pinterest.

I found this and decided some white popsicle stick snowflakes would look good on my barren red wall. 

I got popsicle sticks from my local super center for less than $2.  

I had the white paint and glue gun on hand, so that was free. 

Et Voilà! They're not as big as the ones in the inspiration, but I could only find mini sticks. There're about 150 of those bad boys in three flakes. Plus, I think they're just as cute as the big ones. 

What are you crafting for the Holidays?

Following me one Pinterest: NikkiL0510

Follow me on Twitter: Nikki_Writ 

That Time I Applied for a Credit Card in order to Buy Groceries...

Yeah, that time was last Friday.

Financially, November was a complete disaster.

I don’t know why we fell off the bill paying wagon quite so far this time. I am a budgeter through and through. Every four months, I assess how we’re going to make my fiancé’s check and the financial aid money stretch until next payout. Usually, I can make it work just fine. No, I generally can’t afford new clothes or you know, fun things, but the necessities and bills get paid. Such is the life of a student.

But I’m not a student anymore. I’m the unemployed. I’m the unemployed who has applied to well over one hundred jobs and haven’t gotten anything. 

I did start an editing job, but at the moment that’s unpaid. Freelancing is, well, freelancing. I write fluff pieces that don’t make much money and definitely can’t pay any of my bills. But, I stick with it because it’s something, and maybe it’ll lead to something else.

That being said, when I sat down with the budget four months ago, I wasn’t prepared for a debt collector from my fiancés past to come crawling out of the woodwork demanding their money. And they wanted it now. So, a whole months worth of bill money disappeared.

Be wary, people. The mistakes you make as a teenager do catch up with you eventually. 

With $26 for two weeks, it was either not pay the car payment (which I’d already deferred for a month) or apply for a credit card and hope for the best.

Luckily, I got approved and we can eat for the next two weeks, but I’ve never cut it this close. 

We’ve tried trading in the car to save on car payments, but no matter what we did, the alternatives were always more. We’ve tried looking for a new, cheaper apartment, but we’re already living at the bottom of that barrel.

Life is tough at the moment, but I’m now applying for temp positions and the next big check comes in a month. I can stick it out until then. God has always provided me a way.  I have faith I’ll find it. 

The Last of 2013

November has come to an end, and I have to say, it was a mixed bag of tricks. 

I completed NaNoWriMo--well, I surpassed 50,000 words. I still have two scenes to write. But it’s still a win in my book!

I was approved for a car loan but couldn’t actually find a car. My current vehicle is a spectacular piece of crap that created too much negative equity to have a payment anywhere near the realm of reasonable. Goodbye my beautiful SUV with two moon roofs. I can’t live in you, so I can’t see paying half my rent to take you home. 

I spent Thanksgiving seeing all my family and most of my friends. I pigged out on meatballs, ham, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie while still managing to lose three pounds. But, my fiancé’s grandmother is in a coma, so it wasn’t all happy reunions. 

It also snowed there, which was a nice change up from our rainy, dreary scenery. What a difference 2 hours makes when it comes to weather. 

I plan to make December an awesome last hoorah to the craziest year of my l life so far. I hope these next 31 days are the prep work for something great. 

Oh, and I got a tree. My first real one since my childhood at home. The scent of pine is bringing so much nostalgia with it, I feel like I should have pig tails and be sleeping on my Barney sheets. 

Happy December!! 

Follow me on Twitter: @Nikki_Writ

Cookie Failure

Today I attempted to make some cookies. Everyone knows that baking is just not my thing. Even no-bakes are a problem for me. 

But I decided maybe sugar cookies would be different. 

I mixed the sugar with the butter and the flour. I threw in some vanilla as per the very, very, foolproof recipe. 

“Mix the dough,” the recipe said. 

“I’m mixing the dough,” I said, “But, that shit isn’t working out.” 

No matter, I pushed through. I thought, maybe this is supposed to be a bit crumbly... 

Step three: roll the dough and cut into shapes. I rolled and rolled. The dough cracked, crumbled, and stuck to the pin no matter how much flour I used to prevent it. 

I got five cookies successfully circular before I said screw it and threw the rest of the dough out. 

The dough may have beaten my patience level, but I was going to make those five cookies.

Is that not the saddest sugar cookie you’ve ever seen?

After I had tried my creations--visually they were lack luster, but the taste wasn’t half bad--I questioned why in the hell I was trying to bake anyways. 

The answer: Procrastination.

I would rather bake horribly, shitty cookies than sit down and write. I was mid-bite through the second cookie when this epiphany hit me. instead of doing the dishes and finishing the laundry that I was also supposed to be doing, I got a cup of tea, went to my horribly messy office in my pajamas that I was still wearing at noon, and sat down to write. 

Vintage Santa mug--hell yes!

If I can let horrible cookie making take an hour out of my day, dammit, I can sit down and write something. 

And then I did.

NaNo Update: My novel has taken over my life. I really only allowed myself this post because I'm 2,000 words away from 50k. ONLY 2000 TO GO. Although the novel won't be finished at 50k; I'm feeling 60K. I fell off the writing wagon in week 2 by taking two days off, so I've been in constant catch up mode since. I had a goal of being finished before Thanksgiving, and I'm going to do it!  

What are your procrastination habits? Anybody else do things they’re intentionally bad at to waste time? How are your NaNos coming fellow writers?? 

Books of Influence

Since NaNoWrimo started on Friday, my creative well is focused on that. But writing and reading go hand-in-hand; so, as I endeavor to get to 50,000 words, I’ve also been reading like a mad woman. Look forward to book reviews come December. 

I like to read in the genre I’m writing in. Referencing other writers helps when I get stuck.

As I devour books in the YA genre to help with my own, I got to thinking about the books I’ve read in the past that really influenced me as a writer. 

So, every Sunday of November, I’m going to post an influential book that shaped my writing life. Up first:

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

I read this book in high school initially. It didn’t really leave any indelible mark on me, but then again anything I was forced to read in K-12 immediately made it onto the hate list out of principal.

It was my second run in with this book that really solidified it as my favorite book of all time. 

It was the first novel I ever analyzed critically and really the first glimpse of what goes on in books beyond the words on the page. I was reading with a concentration on what language was doing to Frankenstein’s monster and what other pieces of literature, such as Paradise Lost, was doing to the monster’s psyche, and I kind of fell in love with Shelley after that. Books became more than books. Reading became a challenge to see what they authors were really trying to get across on the page. And then of course, I wanted to be that kind of writer. I wanted to write the stuff that makes people think, question morals, all that good stuff. So now that this paragraph sounds like a poorly articulated love letter, I will leave it at: I just really really love this book. 

NaNoWrimo Update: I am over 5,000 words in. I don’t hate it yet, so that’s a plus. My inner editor is locked up and twitching in the corner over all my long winded exposition, tense shifts, that entire first page where I just threw convention to the wind and wrote in 1st, 2nd, and 3rd person to try an feel out where I wanted to go. It’s been an interesting ride so far. 

What book influenced you?And if you’re NaNoing with me, how’s it going?