What I share
My blogs here are a bit different. I don’t just write fiction stories about the characters I live vicariously through. I don’t just explain my writing process and discuss my writing. I do all that. And more. Because you know, I am a storyteller. I am also a human being who has been through a lot of abuse. A lot.
Most of my life, I didn’t really like to write, but I had many who told me — after hearing what I’d been through — I should tell my story.
So now . . . I am.
I am not sure what spurs me into writing this — my blog(s) — because let’s face it. When we write online these days, the most atrocious things are done, said, and happen when we place ourselves out there. Also, what makes me or my story that special?
Far too many have become entitled and sit on their mighty throne to judge, chastise, and say terrible things to people. They are self righteous, rude, crude, and . . . human.
They can be having a bad day, want to purposely wind people up, or any number of things. I was one in my 20s too so, hi. Well, I haven’t entirely gotten better about it. It’s just the reasons and intention is different. Now, it’s playfully doing so with certain people at certain times. It’s not the old version of me young mindset of “if they are allowing me to get to them, that’s a them problem.” I used to say what some will. That if another is allowing me to wind them up, that’s a problem for them to work on. Yes, and no.
The intention behind it was to purely get them wound up to “teach” them better. To “teach” them and “educate” them. The intention wasn’t a good one at all. Worse, I was so self righteous myself that I would often again, use the same — it’s just a joke. I’m just being sarcastic. GAWD.
That’s what many don’t seem to gather about each other. We have all been there. We have all had our moments, mistakes, and done not so great things. None of us are prime perfect examples of great humans since birth.
Not a one.
I can promise even Jesus may have stubbed a toe and said something “unsightly” in response.
Being good and being nice, kind, decent, and a human who wants to grow as a person doesn’t mean we don’t have our moments. Because we learn from those moments. We learn how to do better from those mistakes. Everything we do is a learning moment. Some athletes (listen to me the PRO here) will purposely record and rewatch their games to do better, to learn, to improve. Authors request feedback on purpose, and ask their editors for help to improve on our mistakes.
Does it mean we won’t repeat them?
Well I sure as hell will. This little ball of stubborn fire makes many many many learning lessons for herself.
Writing online means that we are going to be putting ourselves out there. Often we say it about celebrities — well they chose that so they should expect it. Should someone? No matter who you are, does that give each of us the absolute right to tear another down, or apart? I mean, that’s a great excuse.
Oh, if you thought I was getting sanctimonious and all goody girl to criticize you for insulting someone, not so. I think the current man in the white house is an idiot. I’m sure (maybe) he is a decent human to people around him. I don’t know him personally. Still doesn’t mean I like him. Still doesn’t mean I don’t believe some of the stuff I’ve heard. I’m still gonna look at him on screen and say he’s an idiot.
Oh, see? Now I’m a hypocrite. Because I am. So are you. So is everyone.
So why really would I put myself out there to write my story in this blog, and even bother to do so?
I have absolutely no idea.
Outside of that push within that says so. Outside of the hope that through my writing and telling stories I can gain financial freedom. Outside of knowing that this is what I was meant to do. Outside of I’ve been told on occasion that my writing helped someone when they needed it, or got them through the hospital at times. Got them through a struggle they had. Which is why I always loved stories as a child. They helped me to escape my life. To help me escape pain, pass the time, get out of my head.
I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life through my writing. I’m not trying to tell you what to think, how to feel, or how to respond to situations. Some may take it that way. I certainly would at times feel that, and I understand it. I can’t help the attitude that comes through these blogs because I naturally have attitude that I try my hardest to curb, but guess what? Friends love me even with the attitude.
I try to curb a lot of self all because that’s what I was taught to. Well, that I was trained to. I’m slowly learning — even now — that I can be me, and still be loved.
I’m not trying to dictate anything to anyone.
I’m simply . . . telling stories.
My stories, my character’s stories, and even your stories. I would like to offer anyone the chance to tell a story of their own through here. I can do a guest post and through my YouTube, read it on video too. Not just in writing. A story to be told of old, a past experience that you wanna share, a story you wrote. Stories come in all shapes and sizes.
My character’s stories I tell are me too in a way, working through situations inside of me and I hope you’ll relate. I bring out things I’ve gone through in them, but in different ways. I think many writers do, and that’s in a way the “write what you know.” It’s not necessarily that you write the profession you know, but aspects of human nature you know goes into the character. Our experiences. We can all relate to experiences in some way.
Everything I say could be wrong. I could be a walking wrong bomb 24/7. So that too, I fully say, I am aware of and acknowledge. I don’t always think that I’m this person others see, and I’m not. Strong, independent. I’m a person who was trained to be independent to an extreme from going through every type of abuse imaginable, and being raised by a narcissist that was cruel. Severely. I’m having to learn it’s okay to let people in, to depend on them, but it’s just not easy. I struggle with that.
People struggle to see it, or accept it, and I get it. It’s like when someone looks at me and sees a normal human, but doesn’t see that behind that shell is a body in severe pain, dealing with weakness a lot. The moment I stand up, I am reminded of that. It takes effort to stand when the weak legs say no thank you.
People will have loads of advice too. Do this, do that, don’t do this, don’t do that. I understand where people come from, but at the same time I often feel that instead of stating here is the fix. Maybe we could get better (me too, hi) at asking FIRST and foremost — have you tried blank? What has been your experience with blank? Would you LIKE me to offer a suggestion to that? Ask questions more and first before dumping advice. Like the quote, seek to understand first, then to be understood or whatever.
Even I have to remind myself of that. I think some of it could be time. We don’t want to spend the effort and time to extend a conversation. Hurry it up, move it along, here is my advice, now take it and I can move on.
Because to inquire of people to learn first, before we push advice onto the other requires time and effort and a pause. Then come back to that conversation and person. Not just a dump of advice, pat self on back for being amazingly helpful and wanting share what has worked for us, then move it along.
I’ve certainly done that. I am just as guilty of it. I wanted share what I knew, shared, and moved on.
In sharing these blogs and writing more on my journey to figuring out self, overcoming the abuse, sharing my story, maybe helping someone relate or feel less alone, I hope you’ll enjoy them. All I say and write, I heed as well. That’s the thing about telling my story too. I learn from what you help me learn, your experiences too. Maybe I’ll just give someone — you — a good story to read here and there, or listen to.
As I do, I do encounter negative comments. They are often more vocal than positive. I would love to see that change, but people need to feel inspired to comment. It would help me loads (and others) to hear more positive statements, especially since I am one who tends to hear more negative. I want more positive things around me. It inspires me to keep going when I battle note to. When I battle thoughts that tell me I shouldn’t, to keep writing, to keep everything.
I want more to converse with me, but I also know because of the abuse and living in a constant defend! and overexplain! space that my mother always had me in from being around her, I struggle with that too. I struggle not to put that defensive shield up that I know the other person probably senses. As if I don’t want to hear it. As if I don’t want them near.
Worse, those can be true.
Also, they aren’t.
I enjoy talking to people. I enjoy learning about people, their stories, what they’ve been through, your own personal thoughts. I enjoy inspiring people. I enjoy meeting new people. These are things that many would not believe about me because of how reserved I am. I am reserved. As someone I looked up to once said, “I wouldn’t call you shy. Reserved for sure. You sit back and assess the situation and person before you engage, but once you do, you’re very open and welcoming.” She was like a mother to me. Many times more than my own, which is probably why my mom had issues with her. Our relationship was strong and I could be around her for hours without realizing it.
Just, talking.
I struggle with allowing love in and not fearing it will in the end hurt me because that’s always what hurt me. Love. I was told that the person loved me, then they abused me and hurt me. I was almost asked by someone to marry him, after he raped me and stole my virginity. I was told by someone how much they adored me, right before they stomped on my heart and walked out on me, choosing another person.
Love has always hurt me.
Always? No. It just feels that way. The negative has outweighed the positive for that too. I know I’m not the only one. I’m sure you relate in some way.
It’s slowly changing though. It’s slowly being shown to me that I do have love around me, I still just struggle to let it encompass me without feeling as if I’m selfish. Without feeling as if I’m taking what I shouldn’t, and I must return it that instant. I owe them because they gave to me, so I must or else they will hurt me, they will leave me, they will . . . something.
This is why I’m blogging, and sometimes will have more anger or ‘tude behind the stuff I say than maybe I should. I am processing. I am working through things. I am being a human being and being myself.
While many — more so my mother — led me to believe that being me? Was the worst thing I could ever do. Because GROSS Kim. You are unwanted, unloved, gross, stupid, ugly, and so much more.
I’m not.
I may not see this stunning beauty in the mirror, but I am not ugly. I may not be this super intelligence, but I’m not stupid. I’m just me, and I’m just human, and I’m just trying to figure out what I was not taught — how to be human, and how to exist in society, life, as an adult. I’m only trying to figure out who I am.
Trolls and negative commenters will try to “prove” to me I’m not a good person, or I’m ugly, or they will tell me terrible things. I was once told that he wished me a terrible life because I didn’t remove a meme I shared that had the eff word on it. I said I wouldn’t change me to please him. “I hope you have a horrible life.” Is what I was told.
Your words . . . cannot affect me worse than my own mind. My mom’s words that still remain in the background of my mind always. That I am trying to change.
Your words . . . are things I already tell myself and that I’m working to change.
Your words . . . even if positive can only go so far.
I have been called many a name, especially by my own mother. Even if it wasn’t true.
They are simply words, and my own mind is filled with that nearly 24/7. So the thing about those nasty random comments, is that I simply shake my head at the person doing them, not absorb them as my reality.
That is one thing I was given as a gift that may contribute too. My father provided me the foundation of self. Beneath everything else I always fall back to that. Is it God? Is it my dad’s love? Is it just me? Truly I don’t know. But at the end of the day if someone goes on and on and onnnnnnn to tell me how horrible I am, how what I think is stupid, how I wear my clothes is wrong, how I’m ugly, or any number of things?
What really does that do for me? Sure you can make me cry if you’re nasty to me on the wrong day. Pat your back and all because woo! Perfect human made me cry! Big whoop. I cry over Christmas commercials and when someone hurts my feelings — it’s natural, you’re not special if you make me cry, or make me mad, or make me sad. You’re special if you can make me fall in love with you.
I worry sometimes about that too. My mom being a narcissist and raising me that way. I worry that I will become like her. I don’t want to become like her. I want to cry as much as I hate it. I want to feel things as much as they irritate me. I don’t ever want to get to a place where I truly don’t feel anything. Been there at times. I become a hurtful human in that space, and it’s not a good space. I don’t like the me I become. I worry about plenty.
So why then . . . am I writing these? Why then do I do this? What are my blogs really?
A Redhead Rewriting Reality is what they are. I have a silly notion that’s always permeated me saying I can make good money off my writing. A push inside that’s said the financial freedom I want is through my writing. A guide inside pointing me to writing these and my books to save my life as work I can do. I’m writing these to rewrite my reality. Even if it means being trolled and hated for who I am. Well, my own mother hated my very existence so what does it matter for someone on the internet to hate me?
Loved? Now that’s the one that scares me the most.
Being loved.
Because as I said, it often hurt me. So to be loved and adored is what really scares me.
So that’s a struggle for me. I often feel I’m not noticed at all.
This is what you’ll find in these blogs. My story. My struggles. My character’s stories. My character’s struggles. Maybe your own struggles you’ll see through my words. Who knows? I have no answers for anything. I have thoughts and opinions that change on the constant. I worry lately after really delving deeper into who my mom was (read — may have been certifiable in some way) and still learning it does go deeper as I shared in another blog, that I am that. That why my brain is so off isn’t just abuse, but something she passed on that could be, that isn’t good.
It makes me worry. I don’t want to be like her. I don’t want to do to the people around me that I love and have an incredibly hard time expressing that to, the things she did to people around her. I don’t even know if she was truly capable of love and did love. So that I even worry at times about — is that what I feel? My mind is a mess lately and I struggle with a lot of worries and fears, and I just don’t know.
That is what you will find in my blogs.
That I am a mess. That I am trying to sort out that mess. Organize it. Maybe label it so I don’t misplace bits. Put it in nice containers here and there so it doesn’t cause accidents and problems. Maybe even shiny new pretty things will show up from the chaos and replace the old worn out bits with more beauty in the end.
Who really knows?
More to come. Thank you for reading and subscribing. I know how valuable your time is so it means so much that you’re here, and I’m beyond grateful you chose to spend this time with me. What are your thoughts? Engage with me and start a conversation, just don’t be rude.❤️
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Another chapter is up! I am releasing Guardians of the Void chapter by chapter over on Ream. Dragons and more dragons.
I will be releasing my Priestess World as well soon — long before the public gets the books, you’ll be able to read the chapters as I write them, and help with the world. You’ll get to read extra scenes that may not make the cut either. This is still being thought out on HOW I will, so they haven’t been posted yet, but stay tuned!
