Chloe Stowe's Blog: The Words and Madness of Chloe Stowe, page 3

The "Who?"

I am the “Who?” in every room. The blank look on the asker’s face, the quizzical pitch of voice, the lack of recognition at the answer? That’s the world’s reaction to me. While this realization should sting, it doesn’t too much. After all, who else but a “Who?” is trusted by Dr. Seuss to turn a Grinch into a hero? (The fact that this silly, fanciful ‘logic’ sustains me is either quite laughable or sadly admirable. Which? Don’t ask me. I’m only the “Who?” in this tale.) Until tomorrow… Chloe

The Spent Flower

‘Rebloomed’ yesterday. Nervous as a gnat today. Oh, well. I don’t regret my day of un-work. It’s nice to know I can still be happy by just being me. Now as the world crowds back around me, I will hold my spent flower of a day close to my chest and smile. Overly sentimental? Perhaps, but necessary in battling my anxiety’s endless nattering. Until tomorrow… Chloe

The Rebloom Manifesto

I’m using today to rebloom. After a rough few weeks, I need to take some time and turn out some fresh flowers on these tired old stems. What this means exactly, I haven’t a clue. But it sounds marvelous, and I’m going for it. Now, pardon me, I’m off to pollinate. Until tomorrow… Chloe

Screaming Over the Fan

Sometimes a status check is necessary. When things are going haywire, all crap is hitting the fan and you feel more like screeching than breathing, it’s time to check the old pulse point. Concentrate on the thump-thump-thump that may not be steady but is drumming along a heck of a lot longer than your panic and anxiety ever said that it would. If you’ve got a pulse, you’re winning. Say it aloud. Say it loud. I’ll say it with you. Until tomorrow… Chloe #mentalhealth

Forked Thought

Answer me this: Which is worse? Having a mental illness tied down but still barking and snapping in your mind? Or living with a person with a mental illness running rampant and loose and cruel? The fact that the latter has overrun the former for me is a sad, sad state of affairs… And I loathe it with a contempt that is nearly comical in its fever. And see? It’s made me all wordy and morose. Pardon today’s blog. I plan to gouge it out of my memory with fingernails and forks. Until tomorrow… Chloe #question #anxiety #depression #panic

Gravity

Make your accomplishments physical. Give them weight, substance. Transform them into something of which at least gravity must act upon. Authors toil at the computer for hours and hours and hours… and often finish with nothing but a tall tale on a flickering screen to show for their labors. It can be disheartening, to say the least. So, write something down. Put pen to paper, fill reams of paper with your mad scribbles. End the work day with something you can hold and feel. On a bad day, sometimes that makes all the difference. Until tomorrow… Chloe #gravity #weight #physical

Avoiding the Cauldron

Drowning myself in my #NavyMaven sports writing duties is the only way I’m maintaining a working level of sanity these days. Hours I can pour into the assignments without nearing the emotional pit required of fiction writing. (I spend enough time splashing around in the angst-cauldron dealing with certain members of my family.) Sure, it may not be the ideal way to deal, but it works. In days like these, that’s all that matters. Bottom line: Find a way through. Save the ideals for better days. Until tomorrow… Chloe #family #drama #bottomline #avoidance

The Yesterday Bog

A peat bog got me, yesterday. Slowly sucking me under, marinating me in all its decay, a wet cake of depression grabbed me and wouldn’t let me go. With all the meds I’m on for anxiety and panic, depression usually keeps its distance nowadays. Not yesterday. Yesterday, it festered and burped up all kind of noxious gases, disrupting every hour. My mind is on a foul streak as of late. Hopefully, today, the old brain will keep itself out of trouble… and out of the bog. Until tomorrow… Chloe #depression #yesterday #anxiety #panic

Overdrive

My brain’s in overdrive. Going, going, going, going. Finding nothing to slow it down, nothing to grab its interest long enough to brake. Going, going, going. This can’t be good. I want to work, work, work. Lay hard on the gas pedal and white-knuckle the wheel. Obstruction ahead? I’ll plow through. Go. Go! GO! (Yeah, I get like this sometime. If it’s annoying to you, imagine what it’s like for me. No wonder I’m nuts, right?) Until tomorrow… Chloe #overworking #mentalhealth

Period

The fact that I got a quarterly royalty check for $1.46 yesterday should have torn at my innards. It always has before. But it didn’t. I take this as a sign. Perhaps, the time for Romance Writing is indeed over. While I had decided weeks ago to concentrate only on my sports writing and my Cozy Mystery, there was still a lingering doubt that maybe I was not entirely done with the Romance gig after all. That doubt lingers no more. I have moved on. Period. Until tomorrow… Chloe #decision #period