What is Motivation?

My client/boss asked me today

In my late teens/twenties, I had a goal. Maybe you could call it a motivation. Because my education got all kinds of fucked up, and then senior year I was able to connect a few dots. That’s a longer story.

At that point, I decided that I would do whatever I could to encourage other kids that if I could do it despite the lack of encouragement around me. I did that. My mid 30’s I realized I had accomplished that goal several times over. Then I decided I’d live my life for myself. I had poured out everything nurturing to boost those kids self esteem.

Then I was okay, still struggling with motivation and C-PTSD. As well as depression, GAD, and being undiagnosed Autistic (that will be changing come Wednesday).

I achieved my goal. I didn’t really find a new one. And now, at 50, I’m just floating on the water. I’ve worked toward my MLIS, but I’m stuck having to pay for my last fuckup. Then I have one semester left to finish it. But for now, I’m going to apply to SNHU (rolling admission) for a MFA in writing.

I was on track to get stuff going and then last weekend happened and my survival mode dial got turned all the way to 10. I’m coming back down from that level. I got past the dramatics of the situation and now I can get back down to a more manageable level.

But I still lack motivation.

Ups and downs

To say life has been calm the past several months would be a huge lie. Got the one job at OHSU, then we split after trying for six months to get my body to adapt to a standing job.

Then my tasking picked WAY up. Then earlier this year, my coach at CCC called me about a data entry job that’s swing shift. I’d already made a promise to myself that I would start saving to get a Tiny House On Wheels. So, I took the job.

While it was easier on my body, my emotional state suffered. I was able to withstand most of the crap there until last Thursday. The person I shared data entry with decided to be an even bigger bitch and verbally abuse me and my appearance.

I stuck it out for that shift, clocked out, and then one of the guys fucked up and ran over my walker with a pallet jack.

It’s still sorta useable, but I won’t sit on it. So, now I’m looking at a new one. I added the preferred choice in my general Amazon wishlist. I just don’t have the money right now. I will in a few days.

But now I also need to actively save as much as so can from tasks. I’m also looking and applying for PT Data Entry jobs. Preferably WFM. I don’t know if I can handle more office personality issues.

More news later.

~A

The Tree and Me (poem)

As a tree lives
So do I.

The storm can be calm one minute.
The next has gale force winds.

The tree and I share life.
I bend the same as it.

A loss of a branch.
The loss of parts of my identity.

We bend and twist.
Adapting to the world around us.

We each heave a deep sigh as we grow.
Not always knowing what is happening.

Taller and stronger.
We both become.

Losing and gaining parts of ourselves.
The seasons change us.

We bend.
We do not break.

2020

(My apologies for being so damn quiet all these months. I got burned out hardcore and just felt as if I’d given so much of myself and needed a break. Not sure how steady I’ll post, but this piece hit me and I needed to share it.)

2/1: Ashes #poetry

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Skyline changes.
Blocking out the sun.
Haze of distant smoke
Fills the gaps.

Destruction breeds rebirth.
The trees savor the fire.
Never mind how.
It just does.

Ashes breed the Phoenix
Of nature undone.
Cyclical world knows how to
Survive by itself.

Leave it be.
It knows what to do.
Don’t rush the process.
The Phoenix will rise again.

~A

1/2/19: A Bit Different

I’ve always been kind of an “odd duck” well, rabbit. I’m still not entirely sure if identifying as Rabbit from Winnie-the-Pooh is a good thing or a bad one. But I’ve had several friends agree that I’m Rabbit. But I’ve always been different. Not so much in a neuro-atypical way, just different.

I was the kid who plucked dog and cat hairs from the family pets and looked at them under the 3x microscope. The one who “hunted the dragon” which was actually my dad working on the yard. The kid who was caught on film in rainbow striped tights and a slip (top, not skirt) and ballet shoes, using my dad’s drafting table after hours to doodle.

The teen who wore black leather lace up boots and a beret or real fedora -black with a grey band- and pink and blue shiny eye shadow. Drawing and dancing and singing and pretending I was famous. All while contemplating suicide because of emotional abuse.

I tried, in my 20’s, to go with the pack, to dress like others and fit in. But I realized as I inched closer to 30 that that wasn’t me. It wasn’t WHO or WHAT I was. Still not me now. I rejected the “American Dream” concept of a house in the ‘burbs with the white picket fence and all the other trappings.

My life has been filled with good and bad. The bad has had a tendency to overwhelm me and my life. From a sexually abusive relationship to almost dying at 35 from Cellulitis. To being homeless for most of the past two years. It hasn’t been easy, not by any means.

For labels: I’m an Androgynous Aromantic Asexual Furry Cosplayer who also happens to write SF/F… and, well, there probably are a few other things. I paint, I sew, I design floorplans of houses and costumes. I can draft my own patterns to some degree. I refer to myself as a Geek-of-all-Trades.

And just about everything that one with all those labels and hobbies (along with more I didn’t list) would have to help define who they are is locked away in the storage unit up for auction tomorrow at noon PST. My identity, my first fursuit, my costumes, my sewing machine, my music.

My everything.

I’m not perfect or beautiful or famous like I had dreamed of as a kid. I’m just this one person who is trying to pick my life back up after being on temporary hold for almost two years. I’m a person who stumbles and falls on my own feet while walking along the path of life. I think a lot of us do that. I just choose not to hide the bruises from my falls.

~A

1/2/19: Waiting (#poetry and #crowdfunding)

WAITING

Broken lines of light come to me over the water below
The bridge under my feet is cold and slick from the winter rain.
The moon betrays me to the night sky.
I stand over the water.
Watching.
Hoping.

In my dream I felt this night.
I saw the moon over me, the rigid steel of the bridge around me.
The ripplies of water disturb the lights of the city beyond.
I saw this night.
I felt it.
Yet, he is nowhere.

In this dream, he stands in this place.
On this bridge.
Silence only broken by the water below, hitting the supports.
He stands here.
Why, I do not know.
So, I wait.

My impatience overtakes my desire.
The bells in the distance tell me midnight is here.
Yet I am still alone.
Here.
On the bridge.
Waiting.

Pacing, hoping he will show.
I fumble to make sure it is safe in my pocket.
Staring into the deep black water.
Below.
And I wait.
He never comes.

~APA 2007 (I have no clue where this came from, but it’s one of mine. *shrugs*)

1/2/19: The Path Taken #poetry

This poem is also an older one. Again, not sure how old. I have several cheap comp books that I buy several of at a time. Most get used for poetry and then get lost and, years later, found again.

---

The Path Taken

The shiny things.
Rainbows.
We smile and say
“I’m fine.”
As we tear ourselves
Apart.
Inside.

The path taken.
The cliff we stand on.
How close some get.
While others take that step.
The path of darkness
Luring us deeper into
The Abyss.
The vines grab hold
Not wanting us to leave.

Fight to break free
The vines constrict us.
Pull us deeper.
Silence us.
We struggle to break free.
Some win.
Some don’t.
Others remain in limbo.
Until one side wins.

The cliff beckons.
The path calls to us.
The sirens sing.
Come… live with us.
Stay here.

The path taken.
The Dark or the Light.

~A

12/28: #weightloss backstory

Weight Loss: In my adult life, I’ve struggled with my weight. I was a skinny kid and after I stopped dancing at 22, and then shifted away from regular exercise by 24, the weight piled on. I’m at my heaviest: 185lbs.

Now, I *could* live with the weight if it weren’t for my family history. I physically take after my dad’s side to an almost bizarre degree. Same bone structure, personality characteristics, etc… all (almost completely) from my dad’s side. This includes health. Dad and both of his brothers are/were heart patients (one uncle still living). My paternal grandmother had diabetes. Not sure what Grandpa had, but I suspect heart issues as well. I’m already on Toprol for tachycardia (it works for me, but I have to pair Celexa for my anxiety with it). I imagine my tachycardia might calm down a bit with dropping some of my weight. Also, the longer I go at a heavier weight, the higher my risk of worse heart issues AND diabetes.

So, here I am at 46. 5’2″ and 185lbs. While the timing is RATHER cliche (New year’s resolution stuff and all, which I’ve never really bothered with), I want to start now. Somehow, I will find the funds to join the local gym. They keep changing their specials, but I’m going to wait until the activation fee is back to $0.

This isn’t just for weight loss. My back has been getting progressively worse since the fall 7 years ago. And then another one year ago. All the docs can do is give me pain meds (and most don’t really do much of anything) and tell me to exercise. “Free” exercise is usually what they suggest. This means walking. The problem for me is that, most days, walking more than two or three blocks results in excruciating pain.

The gym two blocks from me not only has weights and a basketball court (yeah, not touching that), and classes, but has a lap pool and a hot tub. This I’m totally down for. My swimming skills are rusty, but I can do the backstroke the best. I have a hard time torquing my body enough to do most others so I can get breath. Backstroke it is.

Then machines. Work my way back up to leg presses equaling my weight (yes, at 120, I could do leg presses above my weight). Goals are to strengthen my back, core, and legs. This will help with reinjuries and stabilizing my back. It will also help with my weight.

I’ll announce when I join the gym. I’ll post pics. I’ll make my journey public. My inspiration today was this guy. I’ve followed him on Twitter. While my goal is roughly 55lbs (185 to 130), seeing someone kick ass like he has makes me know I can totally do this.

~A

12/26: wishes and dreams

Wishes of snowflakes dance in the air.

The streetlights flicker into existence

The muted sun says goodnight over

The western hills.

Dreams of bigger things whisper in the hearts

Of those who have little.

Nicer baubles dance, teasing those who

Have enough to share but don’t.

Patience is not always an easy virtue.

It tells us to wait. Wait for it.

Wait for what?

Ahh, but you will see. When it is right.

Memories of past, reminders of pain and glory.

Dream the future. Wherever we go.

The past must be invited along.

Remember and learn to do better soon.

Those who came before were the same as you and I.

Different names and births, but same nonetheless.

Hear their tales and heed their advice.

Those wishes of snowflakes will dance through the night.

~A

12/4: The Lake (poetry)

Waves pull back
Let go.
Gently lap at the boulder
I stand on.

Breeze manipulates the water.
The leaves.
Fall on the surface of the lake
Before me.

I am here and
Yet…
I am elsewhere. Wishing
I were.

The craggy peaks around me.
Tell an Ancient Tale
Of geologic fury
Long ago.

My mind escapes.
Where I am is not where
I wish to be.
And still.

Closed eyes, trying to ignore
The person next to me.
Making me wish. I was anywhere but
Where I am.

Peaks make the wind whistle.
Rhythm matching the water.
Nicer tune than the person
Talking to me.

Eyes closed. Breathe. Slowly.
Calm my heart. Remove his hand.
Get up. And make sure he doesn’t
Follow me.