It is November. November means craziness and writing, turkey and sleeping and cravings for coffee increased to exponential amounts. I figure I better get the writing and coffee in me before the turkey and sleepiness kick in. I hope to be done with my novel before the end of November. Why all this fascination with November - it's National Novel Writers Month and a lot of the writers in the world have lost their minds to think that we can write a novel in 1 month. We believe it can be done. We have the technology. (Laugh, that was a reference to something old school.)

Right now I'm slouching on my sister's couch wishing that I had worn more comfortable pants instead of the skinny jean for fat people like myself. I was trying to be cute and instead I come off like a can of biscuits ready to explode under pressure. I've undone the top button and feel tons better but I just don't have the flexibility in these things to find any more comfort. What I wouldn't give for a pair of sweat pants right now!

So where have I been? What's taken me so long to update my own memoir? Life. Life has dealt me one hell of hand to play and I cried for a few weeks about the cards I received, but the dealer being who he is wouldn't take them back. Even as I slouch here on the couch – my eyes mist up. There's nothing I can do about it now but just live through it. Remember – I am not my diagnosis, I am not my illness – I am an actual person. But what happens when you feel like you are?

When your mood is low because your doctor has handed down yet another concern.? When you are so low that you could actually be the scum on somebody's shoe? When the scum on somebody's shoe looks more appealing than you do?

I don't know – these are the thoughts that have run through my mind. Some have stuck to mess with me, others have left to rid me of their presence but all that seems to be left is the afterglow of my pity party. The deflated balloons that – let's face it, didn't have much air to begin with – a pitiful sight indeed. The cake no one wanted to eat because we all brought our problems to the table and were full on those. And the party favors – yes, sore hearts, broken dreams and tarnished promise rings that don't fit anyway.

A sight indeed.

But then November happened and I had to decide whether I was going to let this shit keep me down or get it the hell out of the way. I had to decide if I was going to give in to depression for the millionth time or fight it with every ounce of strength I have. Was I going to let my defeatist attitude ruin me or rise to the fucking occasion for once?

I get so tired of the way life treats me and there's nothing really I can do but see to it that it doesn't break me. Yes, I know – and I've said it a few times, that life is what you make it. But I'm talking about the things that happen to you without warning. Those things no one sees coming. Those things you pray against and do everything in your power to keep away. Alas, I am no superhero. I am no guru with all the right things to do and I am no more perfect than the mole on my face. I am terribly flawed and prone to make mistakes. Prone to fuck up, fuck it up and fuck it all in one breath and still have room to spare to fuck up some more shit.

I am just me. Big ol' girl with far too many dreams to count and not enough money or time to do it all in. My slouch tells me that my attitude is poor but my brain says that's the coffee relaxing me and getting rid of that pesky filter. I often wonder who I filter for. There are no kids in my way, no sensitive adults ...just those that I think would be sensitive to the situations and circumstances I present. It seems the more people tell me to be myself the less likely I am to do it. My friends have no problem with me being "me" (finger quotes too) but then they don't always see the real me – they see a version of the real me. The me that likes to laugh and have fun and says interesting things. They see the me that updates everything on Facebook and is the poetic rebel of Twitter. They see the lady that has kids and is just making ends meet like everyone else.

Not the woman that has cried herself to sleep or out for help

Overthinks

Underestimates

Struggling

Prays constantly

Ignores warning signs

Runs to the danger

Picks up the warning sign and smacks people with it

Is the danger

Loves and hates in the same breath

Overly sensitive

Under paid

Under appreciated

Sometimes happy

Mostly sad and quiet

Wears masks and hats and gloves and scarves and carries many keys but none that unlock the cheat code for life like the ad promised it would

Is a walking medication commercial for various drugs and hasn't received one check

Couldn't think straight if my brain were stapled to the line

Reckless

Stupid

Selfish

And untidy.

People don't get to know those things but you do! Because I've decided that it needs to be said. You need to know what you're dealing with here. I'm writing a story with characters that have all kinds of secrets going on in their lives and are doing all kinds of wrong under the sun that it's actually quite frightening to me that my mind would conceive of such things but hey it'll make for great reading to someone. I guess – I hope. And I figure that if all those made up people with real life problems can go about doing what they do – then why can't I? If they can spill their secrets to their besties and complete strangers then why not me?

Well...because I have fear that those things will be used against me and yeah there are some jerks out there that would try it. But for the most part there are some really good and kind hearted individuals that are just living life and playing the cards their dealt too and they aren't whining about it as much as I am because I'm a big baby and they have it together and have been adulting for a while now. I suck at it. So bad. It's not even funny. My 14 year old daughter has to govern herself rather than be the kid she wants to be because mom sucks. She will literally say – I shouldn't be doing or thinking or saying this, that or the other. You see! She should be doing whatever a 14 year old does to figure out her world not being concerned that mom can't handle her duty as MOM!

For the life of me I don't know where this kid comes from. I think I have an actual angel on my hands and I'm afraid of that. I'm so corrupt it ain't funny – if I were a computer I would be on permanent blue screen making that ugly noise computers aren't supposed to make. Flashing and blinking lights with smoke coming from the speakers.

Yeah that corrupt! A systematic failure.

But then – that's what life is supposed to be. A woman in pants too tight to sit right on the couch well within the threat of exploding due to her fashion failure. Ready to knock out a small child or put an eye out.

Just means I have to try it again – do what comes natural. Skinny jeans aren't natural for.....big people like myself and yoga pants are now for porn stars (don't ask me how I know that) and sweat pants are for normal people. I'm a sweat pants girl and loose jeans girl. I like t-shirts and bulky sweat shirts and socks.

I like knowing that people will respect me no matter my color, creed or religion, thought process, color of my hair, my racial or ethnic origins and the planet I derive from which may or may not be Earth..who's to frikkin say

I like chocolate

And getting along with people completely different than I am

And coffee

And knowing that peace can exist when people want it

And bubble gum dammit

And seeing all the good people can do in a person's life ( god, I'm crying..) in a person's life like mine...a woman who doesn't have it all together and wishes she did

And Cheetos

Thought provoking, heartfelt responses to the things people read and hear and see

Cartoons because I'm forever trying to reconnect with the aspect of my childhood that was perfect for me when I was young and not all the ugly that happened during it

Fall leaves and crunching through them because it reminds me just temporary everything is and that's a good thing because the trouble in my way won't last for very long

Books that make smile, laugh, cry and think differently

Authors who can write themselves in to stories and movies and not be weird about it

Fruit punch ...real fruit punch the kind you make from scratch

Authors who use symbolism for their life experiences that they sneak into their writing

Snickers because sometimes, I'm not myself - seriously

Readers that engage the authors and pick their brains and want to know more about what they read and see and want truth no matter how brutal it is because they know that truth is stranger than fiction any day and would rather roll with that than the craziness we see on a page as long as we connect with it

And people in general. Sometimes I have a beef with people because they are being themselves – because they are the jerks that I didn't want to believe that they were but that's okay because the world can't be full of the same person – thank GOD! If it were I'd go back to Beta X-9, Earth is just no place for me man.

Aside of all this craziness I'm trying make a point that may have gotten lost in my babbling. And I do apologize for making you sit through it and read it all but I wouldn't change a thing about it - this is my therapy and your escape even if it is down that crazy looking side road marked TURN BACK NOW or AUTHOR UNDER CONSTRUCTION!

My life has just taken this strange turn that scared the hell out of me. Like all roller coaster and thrill rides I just have to hold on tight, white knuckle it and wait for the drop before I can puke on the person riding next to me – it always makes me feel better. I'm such a joy to be around really. Seriously, though...I'm coping and dealing and trying not to "sweat the small stuff" (I hated that book) and really trying to manage my stress. So much can happen in a day – a whole world can be made and destroyed in one breath so with that knowledge, please speak life into the ears, hearts and world around you.

As always,

Thanks for reading :)