I'm bringing writing back Day 1

Day 1
Breaking Up With Writer’s Block
It’s time for you and Writer’s Block to part ways. Write a letter breaking up with Writer’s
Block, starting out with, “Dear Writer’s Block, it’s not you, it’s me …

Ok Let's go


Dear Writer's Block,

It's not you it's me, I've allowed you take residence in my heart and mind. I've allowed you to take reign on me since that day in 8th grade when I decided I was not meant to be a writer. That day I made a choice to listen to the harsh and hateful voice in my head instead of the voices of my peers. That day I gave you power that you did not rightfully earn. I gave you the power to decide my fate and my future. I gave you my freedom of expression. I became a faithful prisoner under your control. I ignored the things I truly wanted to do. I closed my ears to the writers in my head. I ignored the yearning to go to poetry slams and join cyphers. I stopped short of the writers workshops getting brochures just long enough to read the type of classes but never asking my parents to send me to the writers camps. I considered your thoughts and not my wants and dreams. I never even whispered the dream to be a writer. I never even considered the possibilities of being a writer of putting the colors in my head down as words. I never let myself dream that dream. Instead for 20 years I've silently painted beautiful pictures with words in my head. I've secretly listened to soliloquies rambled by characters never inscribed. For years I've wrote stories in my head never attempting to free them, keeping them prisoner like you did me. I've pushed aside character bios and lines of poems begging to come to life. I've killed the stories before they had a chance to take root and grow. I allowed the fear of being heard to outweigh the loudness of my screams. It's me Mr. Block. It's always been me. I've wasted our time, I waited for you to get the balls to leave, but why would a leech voluntarily fall off it's source of blood? Why would a parasite leave it's source of life? It wouldn't Mr. Block, it would attach and never give up because it would die without the source. Without my willingness to be bound you would died a long time ago. Possibly coming by for visits but never taking residence for this long. Sir, you should have tried harder. You shouldn't have let me go. I was a very good source. And I know you tried. I know you knew how awesome I could be. That's why you chose me. I can't imagine it was accidental. You saw me on that day, that day i had doubt in my abilities to be something more and you decided that I would be a good source. I can't imagine you thought it would 20 years later that I would get rid of you. Maybe you did. Maybe you took me as a lifer. Full of potential scared of change. But you messed up, you allowed me to see the wrong prompt, you didn't realize that years of reading instead of writing would train me still. You didn't realize that the guy walking in the woods took that walk often, the difference came after the day he changed his choice. You don't understand me. You don't love me. You never cared about me. Maybe it was fear Mr. Block maybe you were scared of what might happen if I stepped into the awesome. Maybe you were worried about how my greatness would manifest in the realm of things around us. Perhaps I was. I'm sure I was. But today I'm breaking up with you. I'm sure we will see each other around here and there but I'm just not willing to stay in this relationship with you anymore. We can keep going back and forth I could let you stay here but I would be killing myself sir. I could but I wont. It's over and I could say I'm sorry but I'm not. So goodbye Writers Block, it's been real. I'm pretty sure you owe me some back pay.

Pregnant with expectation,
Cynethia Williams
Mother, Daughter Sister, Girlfriend, Cook & Writer etc.

Suicide

I remember when I tried to kill myself I was in high school I think, 9th grade. It was somewhere between my sisters' death and my first abortion. I drank some medicine we had leftover from when I had mono (I was NOT kissing boys I was sharing food and drinks with my friends -don't judge) But I drank this medicine wrote a goodbye letter and waited.. but nothing happened. Looking back I should have drank more than the swig I took (it was nasty) and medicine that is expired does lose some potency. My Mother found me and my letter and initial yelled. I'm pretty sure she was scared and confused as to why her oldest child would want to kill herself. I remember her telling me how selfish suicide is. And She was telling the truth. Suicide is selfish. When your in that space your thinking Me dead is easier for everyone. This doesn't seem a very selfish thing to think on the surface but in actuality, it's pride that makes us unwilling to say Ouch. It's pride that caused me to say I'm going to die instead of asking for help. It sucks and I know it's not nice to say but if you unwilling to get help for fear of how it will effect others your prideful and judgmental, and your judging yourself worst than anyone else will.

I was 30 when I find out I had depression. My only suicide attempt was in my Freshman year of High School. I never spoke about it again because I never considered it a defining part in my life. It was more like a mistake that I was saved from. The last few weeks/months have been hard for me. I thought it was nothing i was just tired. I thought maybe it was anxiety with the new job, maybe the kids being seniors, lack of sex I didn't know i just knew it had been a hard few months. I didn't want go out. I didn't want to work out (i never want to work out) I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to cook. I just wanted to sit and think or sleep and read. I'll want to go outside but the amount of effort it would take to get up and get ready was more than I had to give. Even now, right now it's taken me 3 days to write this post because I can't make myself care enough to do it and finish and proof read and think. It's Effort. Depression is not about being sad all day or crying it's about being in a state of blah. I don't know how else to explain it.

Imagine being on the beach when a bad storm comes in you take cover and wait for it to pass.  But it never really passes all the way there is still an overcast, and some showers. Then one day you look and see sunshine on the other side of the beach, but to get to it you have to go through a ditch. Now, you can sit comfortable in the gloomy skies and annoying mist OR you can jump the ditch. IF you decide to jump in the ditch you'll soon realize it is full of quicksand and about midday just when you finish with that it turns into tar and it gets harder then you get to the edge but before you can get to the sunshine you have to climb a the wall of the ditch. And when you get to the top of the wall and you finally get out the ditch your tired. But your scared that IF you allow yourself to sleep you might miss the sun you worked so hard to get to. So you have to learn to trust yourself and your weaknesses then you get to enjoy the sun, and ever so often you turn around and see the ditch and gloominess you ran from. When you take drugs, it gives you a ladder to use to help but you still have to do it.

I want you to know this. It's ok to say ouch. It's ok to scream OUCH!!!, FUCK this hurts. DAMN IT this sucks I want OUT I can't do this, It's ok. Say it.. say it loudly scream it. It's ok. There are people that are paid to hear you. People who are paid to listen and teach you how to get through the ditch. Speak up. We want to hear you. We want to help you. We really do love you. I know it's hard and if i could walk through the ditch for you I would, but I can't. So I'll walk through my ditch, and when i get out I'll cook you something so that when your finished we can break bread together.

I need you to survive.  

The First Day

8/7/14 @ 11:45 pm 

Sleep is not doing easy tonight. I have made a decision to go to a workout class tomorrow and my anxiety (or the enchilada i just ate) is giving my heartburn. I'm worried what I will look like in stretch pants and a tight shirt in a room full of skinny slender tall women. I keep seeing myself as a lumpy uncoordinated non dancer. Maybe I should stop trying to be things I'm not.

8/8/14 @ 1:30 PM

Ok so I feel a LITTLE better this morning. I still nervous about class trying to find an excuse not to go but i really want to go. I think it might be expensive though - and spending money on myself has never been an easy thing for me to do. BUT if i'm Honest with myself secretly in the back of my head  I'm not always happy with the way I look. I don't want to be much smaller I don't like skinny women. I like girls that are 'TICK' (Jamaican accent) I think my main if not only complaint is my belly I'm tired of seeing it. I feel like I'm 5 months pregnant. I foolishly stepped on the scale a few days ago.. it said 210. It is time.

So here's the plan:

1. I want to download Pact to my phone. Pact is an app that pays you to workout and eat healthy.
1A. To do this I will HAVE to buy a new phone. The app won't download to my phone because it's the first EVER smartphone made and things have changed over the years.  (please don't laugh at me)
2. Join Pure Barre - They say it takes 10 classes to really get it so I'm committing to 3 weeks 4 days a week - It's going to cost me about $100 - To offset the price I've decided to not eat out for the rest of the month - no store brought coffee, no breakfast sandwiches,  This is going to be hard folks.
3. Not Quit. I'm going to try really hard to NOT quit...

OK Lets do this!

... I really hope there are some chubby chicks in this class...

You never want to be in the class and everyone KNOWS you just started like.. awww poor little fat girl wants to get healthy "Good Job Cynthia, you looked good today" "OMG, you really did well keep at it you'll see results in no time" "Hey! I was your size just 2 weeks ago.. look at me.. if i can do it you can do"..... I don't want encouragement I don't want to be talked to.. I just want to be lost in the back of the class..

8/12/14

I still haven't gone to a class... smh

SELF CHALLENGE!! Lets Journal Out Loud!

So I've been having a hard few - life. Yeah, that sums it up BUT these last few months since school started have been especially difficult for some reason. However, I'm pretty sure it's all for comic relief in the end. 

And in the slight chance that If I ever become unsure of God's comedic geniusness  I just remember the platypus. It's a duck and a beaver and it's named platypus (that my friends is comedy!) 

Through it all I've been wanting to write. The problem, my topics where all over the place. I wanted to bring something of substance something that was meaningful, something interesting and all I had was me. (WOW that was deep) Me, and my life, my complicated, messy, hard to understand life. I repeatedly said to myself nobody wants to hear this craziness but one day you should write a book. It was/is so confusing. Then after a few hours or thought  I decided to simply Journal Out Loud. 

This is the plan, I'm going to use this blog as a  journal, honest and true. I'm gong to try really hard to not worry about what anyone else will get from it or  learn. I will not wonder what you might think of me if i say ouch or $hit and I will try really hard to just be me. Out loud in Black and white... or Rainbow. I promise to be honest and open. I promise to tell as much as my truth as I can and I promise to commit to do this for a year. a full year.. whats today? Ok SO Aug 8th 2015 I will have at least 52 blog entries. (Once a week folks) 

And for those Christ Lovers I know 

At this Thyme

This morning was a rocky morning, I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself to just get there. I spent the morning rushing to get somewhere I have waited my whole life to be. I pulled up and they were also waiting on me. The last one to arrive. On time but later than I wanted to be. In the midst of my rocky morning, I had a few displays of loves not just from my friends and family but from God. I had one friend remind me to be me, and have fun, I had a brother hug me and tell me he loved me, any parent of a 17 yo boy will tell you what a miracle that is.  My daughter looked at me as I was dropping her off at school and took a second to let me know it was going to be ok and that I could relax. I had an email saying I was loved and even as i was praying away my anxiousness in the car, the Kaneshow happened to play a recording of DMX praying before one of his shows. Now, I'm not saying his voice calmed me down by no means, but no matter who says it the name Jesus will change some things in your spirit. I've spent a lot of my day going over the mistakes I've made, but over and over again, things would happen to remind me that I am loved, I am highly favored and I am made in His image so I am good.  Sometimes we miss an opportunity that we were sure was made for us, sometimes we blow the one chance we feel we had to make a difference in our lives. Sometimes things don't work out the way we want them too, need them too, expect them too. But in all times ALLTIMES we are loved, we are loved we are loved. In all times, we are exactly where we are supposed to be at that very moment in time. At all times all things are working for your good. In ALL times God is.