Humanity
He Was Dead When We Found Him
A couple of weeks ago I started smelling something rotten coming from the basement. It came on gradually and I noticed it getting a little stronger every time I went down there to do laundry. I’d recently lost and regained my sense of smell after I had Covid, so I thought it could be my nose playing tricks on me. But eventually the stink grew so powerful, it triggered a long forgotten memory from my childhood. It reminded me of the time we found a dead mouse inside our fold out couch.
By Leslie Writes3 years ago in Confessions
Writers Block: The Never Ending Struggle
I love to write. Since I was a little girl I have had a passion for writing. Being told as a child that there wasn't "much of a future for a writer", I kept writing as an outlet and a hobby. I've continued to write as an adult, but I write inconsistently meaning I have endless pieces of papers with a variety of random ideas and sentences that would probably make no sense to anyone who read it. I also have an overwhelming number of half written journals because for some reason or another I always stop and begin scribbling in a new notebook. I have the desires and ideas to write a variety of books. Books of all kinds; I have a children's book in mind inspired by my own two daughters and my dog. I have an idea for a self help book about parenting and discipline and another book idea regarding overcoming adversity. I've even attempted writing an autobiography where I share my childhood traumas and journey to finding spirituality. In fact, I have so many ideas that even my poor Vocal account has seen quite a few dozen articles drafted up too. They range from review like articles of music, movies, and food to advice and motivation for battling depression and anxiety and motherhood. The ideas flow infinitely across my head. My problem is I hardly come to finish any of the pieces I write. Call it crippling perfectionism or Imposter Syndrome, no matter how hard I try to write and finish, I stop myself before the end. Part of the reason being that I critique myself too harshly, but I mean, I know that it's not good enough so why even finish? I know I am too hard on myself and know that I have to put myself out there in order to improve. Yet, as I write I feel the passion fade away and tension and pressure build up inside me instead. As I reread what I wrote, I feel embarrassed for myself. It's too amateur, too sloppy; I sound pathetic. It's as if I have a standard for myself that I can't seem to meet mostly because I don't know what it is. So for years now I have claimed I have Writer's Block, the ongoing and never ending issue I seem to posses. I used to blame the lack of time to be the cause for my writer's block. I thought if I could dedicate enough time to sit and write in one moment then the problem would stop. However, frankly, I have the time now, yet I can barely finish a piece without feeling defeated and inadequate. I thought spending more time reading would also help me, but instead anxiety grows as I realize the talent many writers have that I seem to lack. I've created goals to help motivate me to write, but more often than not I avoid them to avoid the pressure of writing something I am unhappy with. The true irony of it all is that writing is suppose to be a form of expression. You see, I understand that there really isn't a "correct" way to write. Grammar, punctuation, and syntax are generally preferred, but technically it's not necessary. Just as art can range in beauty depending on who sees it, writing works the same way. There is suppose to be freedom in writing, but I as much as I seem to comprehend the concept, I very hypocritically struggle with breaking myself away from what I truly believe: that I am not a good enough writer. In the end of the day my writer's block is nothing more than the part of me that just wishes I didn't do this. The part of me that is afraid of failing and remaining inadequate. But today, that part of me did not win. Today regardless of fears I felt and the imperfections I saw, I pushed to do what my writer's block did not want me to do: write.
By Stephanie Rosas3 years ago in Confessions
Speed
Introduction This is about a lot of things about me that make me too much for most people. My Faults I talk too fast, I talk too much, I write too fast and I write and publish too much, so some people ignore everything I do. I understand this, some creators just seem to be always posting something and eventually you think “I’ve had enough”.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 3 years ago in Confessions
Why hair wigs being considered as a new fashion statement ?
A wig is much more than just a hair loss remedy, despite the fact that this is how many people think of them. People with a lot of hair are finding the possibilities that wigs provide thanks to the advancements that have been made in wigs over the years.
By smita srivastava3 years ago in Confessions
My Unreasonable Jealousy
Introduction Over the past couple of weeks I have been seeing a lot of members of Vocal+Plus Assist getting Top Stories on Vocal, often multiple ones close together. I am over the moon for the people I know and maybe slightly peeved about others who are “Vocal Favourites” who seem to get Top Stories because of who they are but that is probably due to my own personal tastes. We can’t like everything and we don’t have time to read everything.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 3 years ago in Confessions
The girl with the question mark on her wrist
2008-2009 The divorce was final. Not sure if the paperwork had gone through yet but my dad was definitely remarried and I’m now living with him, his wife and her two kids all under one roof. My baby sister was born and now I had this new family. As a 19 year old teenager I didn’t really grasp it all. This is sort of a trend with me that I’m noticing. I don’t feel things.
By Natasha Collazo3 years ago in Confessions
Diary of a Caregiver: Confession #2
In case you missed it - Click here for Diary of a Caregiver: Confession #1 Preface Before I go on with the situation with my mom. Let's back up a little so I can let everyone briefly know what was going on with me. I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in September 2019. This had me shaken at the time I felt like this was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. Due to Covid my treatment was postponed until August/September 2020 at which time I took a Leave of Absence in order to undergo 20 radiation treatments. The radiation treatments were a success. Currently (November 2022) my PSA level is down to .81 from a high of 4.6. My guess is by the fall of 2023 the cancer should be undetectable.
By Rick Henry Christopher 3 years ago in Confessions
Meet Zissa, My Personal Demon.
Last month I turned 39 years old and I was hoping things would magically change for the better. Unfortunately, being a step away from 40 has led to MORE self-doubt and insecurities. I feel as awkward as I did at fifteen. Twenty-five-year-old me provides reminders that I have lived fifteen years with a chronic mental illness diagnosis that has always delineated my life. The current version sees how weathered I am and still doesn’t know what the hell I’m doing besides surviving one day at a time. This leaves little time to focus on the future.
By CMMO3 years ago in Confessions
Twenty-Something
Here's the thing about me: I'm a mom, but I'm also 25. Moreover, I'm a 25-year-old mom in 2022. I'm physically attractive, with a thick accent and a people-pleasing mentality caused by years of mental and physical abuse. This matters because without meaning to, I construct a perfect companion for whoever it is I'm talking to. I nod my head, I grin just wide enough, I take my glasses off at just the right time to reveal the eyeliner I've carefully used to round out my almond shaped eyes in just the right places. Conventionally, I'm attractive. In the ways that count. In the ways that get me laid.
By Gypsy3 years ago in Confessions
