A Look Back on Writing in 2019 & 2020 Goals for Writing

Even though 2019 was a rough year, one thing I did really well was making sure I had time to write and I wrote. I did not write every day, but I definitely wrote several times every week. I had been trying that "treat it as a job" approach for over a year, but it wasn't working for me. It sucked all the passion out of writing and I felt guilty if I didn't write during the times I had set aside due to a migraine or whatever. So I decided to try the "I Will Write Every Week" approach. Basically, writing became my place to relax and unwind. I was still writing down times to write in my planner, but it wasn't a, "YOU MUST DO THIS OR YOU FAIL AS A WRITER" type mentality. It was more, "hey, look at all this time you have to write! I know there's a lot going on, but once you get done with the stuff you HAVE to do, look at this fun thing you GET to do." Just a shift in perception and it made all the difference. It also helped that I had/have my writing groups and open mics as deadlines keeping me accountable. This is what I succeeded at this past year:

• Wrote every week
• Wrote every day for November & surpassed the 50,000 word mark for NaNoWriMo
• Sent out one Short Story (It got rejected, but with some pointers on how to fix the story so I'm seeing that as a win)
• Set up and started a Grief Journaling Workshop at the Library
• Continued with the Writers' Word Feast
• Visited an open mic I wasn't running
• Ran The No Shush Salon open mic
• Finished my memoir & gathered readers

Here are my writing goals for 2020:

• Send my memoir to my readers (Edit: DONE)
• Continue writing every week
• Send out writing for publication at least once a month
• Visit other (not run by me) writing groups
• Visit other (not run by me) open mics
• After getting back feedback from readers about my memoir (March 1), Edit it
• Figure out what direction I want to go with my memoir & go there

The Year My Sister Became a Swan

*** I am poking at a speculative memoir. This is part one of a chapters. ***

I stand at the threshold of my parents’ house. I have been here before. Don’t open the door, my mind whispers. If I don’t open the door, I will never know. The bliss of ignorance. But the knob has already turned. The door falls open. My father is there. It begins again.

My father, a stout man with black hair and serious eyes, chokes out, “there has been an accident.” Accident… If it had been anyone but him, I would think it an April Fools joke. But coming from him, the word hangs thick in the air, echoing and reverberating. “Accident, accident, accident…” I want to breathe fire on the word, incinerate it, eradicate it from my life, from being true, from the new reality of what my family will become.

The year was 1995. Joy, a high school Spanish teacher, was in Costa Rica as one of the chaperones for her school's International Club. They had taken the group white water rafting on the last day… THE LAST DAY. And it was beautiful. But rafts collided, sending everyone into the swirling chaos of the rapids. All around were sounds of shouting and water breaking on rocks and animals in the jungle. The adrenaline of the calamity that was going on making it impossible to know anything.

What we do know:  A man drowned, he died.

Joy might've dove back in. Joy, who was a very good swimmer, might've been pulled under by the drowning man. But we will never know for sure.

We also know they found her body floating, face down. They pulled her out. She was dead. Too long in the water. But they revived her. A miracle! (The miracle she could have used, was not drowning in the first place.) An ambulance bouncing over rough terrain. She survived, survived, survived...

Joy, in a coma; Joy, out of the coma. I was not there. Her voice changed; she changed; she was not the Joy I knew. She became other. The accident caused her to transform.

“You have to be the big sister,” she said to me in a moment of clarity, before her transformation was complete. I watched as her neck arched and stretched and feathers sprout all over her body. She squawked as wings blossomed where arms had been. Her legs thinned, her feet flattened and spread out. She became awkward and unsteady on land. Her words were barely intelligible as they poured forth from her beak. “They need you, you’re the oldest now. You have to take care of them.”

But I didn’t know how. I was too busy wallowing; too busy avoiding. My parents turned to paper. I only saw my younger sisters when I would squint. They were so far away. My eyes went black, unseeing. My sisters changed too. One became a veil of darkness and silence. The other was a smile so tight she cracked at the edges. And Joy had become a swan.

Feathers landed on everything. Everything.

The care and feeding of the swan fell to my mother. She rarely asked for help though we knew she needed it. I did not offer. She did her best, but there are no manuals on how to care for your swan daughter. Feed, shelter… but what happens when she flies into a rage? What happens when the swan who was your oldest daughter attacks your youngest daughter? What do you do when the whole family is covered in bruises? How do you explain the feathers everywhere; the beak marks; the three feet of water in the basement?

The water in the basement...

The basement flood broke me and my mom. Sewage water drowned my belongs; my writing. It destroyed much of what had been saved of Joy before her accident; before her transformation into a swan. We cried. My mother and I held each other and we cried. The swan swam.

My father, the engineer, focused on fixing things. He could not fix his daughter who was now a swan, his daughter with blackened eyes, his daughter who had become a dark room, or his daughter who’s smile shattered inside her heart. But he could gather people to empty and clean the basement. He could fix the basement.

It began again… I went back to the basement. It was fixed, but the same. Nightmares waited there. I opened my eyes, no longer unseeing, but everything was faded. I tried to help my mother with my swan sister; gathering feathers; cleaning; trying to understand her.

But my swan sister swam further away.

Dying Rainbow

I dyed

My hair

Rainbow colors

Because it was fun

Because I loved to see

people smile and giggle

When they saw my hair

But after tragedy

A cat dying

The killing of Joy

I shaved my head

Then a second cat

And an aunt died

Sad, wanting to hide

I instead covered my head

With scarves, hats, and hoods

No more bright rainbow colors

For I have not found happiness

Though there are sparks

With caring friends

A new found dog

And a foster cat

But my hair has

Been growing

The grayest hue

It has ever been

In the grays are

Flecks of silver

Persist in

Shining

Through my grief

Someday, I’ll share my silver

Has It Only Been Two Months?

I've never been one to think, "oh, it couldn't happen to me and mine." Life is too strange, too chaotic, people are too careless and really, shit just freakin' happens all the time.

But the way Joy was killed was so bizarre that two months later, it STILL feels unreal. I'm still flinching everytime I notice I have a text or someone calls me, afraid that they're going to tell me that someone else I love is hurt or dying or no longer on this plane of existence. That, combined with her previous rafting accident, I get nervous whenever anyone I love goes on a trip. Add to all that my cats dying, my sister's dog dying, my aunt dying, and the five year anniversary of my mom's sudden death --- it was a pretty shitty holiday season and ringing in of a new year.

So what can I do?

Do I stop living, stop loving, stop caring, and let everything scare me? Bar myself away from the world? Lock my loved ones in... in what? Not a room, 'cause a truck could come through the wall and kill them all. In a box? with a fox? in a house? with a mouse? And now we're sitting with Dr. Seuss eating green eggs and ham... but I'm a vegetarian!

NO

I WILL NOT DO THAT

I will live BIGGER, love HARDER, adventure WIDER, cultivate a DEEPER sense kindness, and create MORE! EVERY MOMENT counts. I get that. My life is what I make it. I get that too. Despite all speculations and beliefs, I don't know what comes next, so I have to make this one life AMAZING.

Yes! Absolutely! I get it! I will do it!

Now if only I could stop crying every single fucking day, sleep for more than two hours at a time, and reignite my ability to focus... If only I could wrap up this whole grieving thing...

As soon as I do, I'll get right on that living BIGGER HARDER WIDER DEEPER and making my life MORE AMAZING EVERY MOMENT.

But not just yet...

The Difference of a Day

Yesterday was brilliant

There was Tea & Friends & Cats & Reading & Bunnies & Conversation & Art 

I only had one big cry

I dealt with issues at work

And difficult patrons

With panache and a smile

I even had a moment 

During a hug

When a friend said sorry

Where I thought

"For what?"

Before it all came back

I forgot to be SORROW for a moment

It was delightful in that sense that I 

Was filled with LIGHT

But today

I woke up crying

And in migraine pain

Waking from nightmares 

Of dead cats

Of dead sister

Waking to feelings

Of hopelessness

Of helplessness

Waking to fears

Of what else

What comes next

Glad for the day off

I laid in bed courting sleep

Until after one pm

I am measuring the day 

In increments

In accomplishments

Things so small 

I'd normally 

Not notice

I got up

I fed the bunnies

I'm eating healthy

I emptied the top rack of the dishwasher

(Bending down hurts my head

The bottom rack can wait)

I have cried

So many times

I've lost count

I am glad

No one else is home

To witness

Today 

I hold onto yesterday

As proof of light

Smile Deflect Rinse Repeat

At work

“Hi! How are you?”

“Fine! You?”

I am “okay”

(I am not okay)

Smile deflect rinse repeat

Out in public

“How are you holding up?”

“Well, I haven’t fallen over!”

((canned laughter))

Smile deflect rinse repeat

With friends

“How’s it been? Is there anything I can do?”

“It’s hard but I’m managing.”

((managing? What does that even mean?))

“Just, what you’re doing... be my friend.”

Smile deflect rinse repeat

In the car

At home

In my room

I crumble

I haven’t gone a day

Without crying

Smile deflect rinse repeat

It’s been

1 month

15 days
(is that all? is it that long?)

Since it happened

Smile deflect rinse repeat

Since she died

Smile deflect rinse repeat

Since she was killed

Smile deflect rinse repeat

Smile deflect rinse repeat

Smile deflect rinse repeat

Smiledeflect rinserepeat

Smiledeflectrinserepeat

*gasp*

Smile

Deflect

Rinse

Repeat

I want to Eat His Heart

He killed my sister

I want to eat his heat

I want to hit him with a truck
I want to rip him limb from limb

I want him to feel the pain my sister felt

Until there's nothing left but his eyes
I want his body to be crushed

I want to eat his eyes

He killed my sister

Listing, part I

Five Emotions:

• First and foremost, sorrow. No, that's not right... SORROW That's better. Well, not better... nothing is better. Everything is worse. (Hence, the sorrow.) It feels like a wet, sticky blanket and it's heavy, oh so heavy. I can't take it off, it shrouds me. There are several very tangible points of sorrow - my cat dying, my sister being crushed to death in her bed by a truck, my other sister losing her home because a truck drove through it, that same sister's dog dying, my missing my chance to go to the International Book Fair, my other cat dying, the five year anniversary of my mom's sudden death, not being nearby for my dad and my sisters - and each one another layer of  heavy, sticky, wet blanket of SORROW. It is constantly with me, heavy and dripping toxic sludge on those around me. I try to keep it all to myself, but I can't. It's too obvious; too prevailing; too consuming. It oozes and drips on all who get too close. It's like a cold... contagious upon exposure.
• Next comes the emotion that is not mine, but is directed at me. While I try to hide my sorrow or even just express it without emotion, it affects them. They can feel it when I am near, hear it in my voice, see it on my face. I can see them reacting to it before I even speak of it. PITY is what their expressions scream out. I hate pity. I always have. It is a deep and soulless emotion. It is the bastard child of arrogance and sorrow. It has little purpose. But sometimes, it's impossible to avoid.
• Third, GUILT. You might notice the missing my chance to go to the International Book Fair wedged in between my sister's dog dying and my cat dying. And I know, I know, I shouldn't feel guilty. But I do. When there are so many horrible things to be sad about, how do I have a right to be sad about that? There are so many worse thing going on in the world and even in my own life. But I am sad and frustrated about it. I also feel that GUILT because I am here in Illinois, far from where the legal proceedings are. I can't be with my sister, I'm not there to stare the guy who killed my other sister in the face. 
• Fourth, ANGER. But, right now, the anger is muted, it's buried in the sorrow, though I see little peeks of it. Anger at life, anger at the asshole who drove the truck, anger that I can't just be there. 
• Fifth is ANGST. According to some dictionary somewhere in internetlandia, "a feeling of deep anxiety or dread, typically an unfocused one about the human condition or the state of the world in general." Now this may seem weird since there is so much closer to home to feel anxious about, and I do, but it does leave one feeling angst about the rest of the world too. 

Grieving

I am lost. Someone from my writing group chose to leave rather than stay in the same room as me and my sorrow. I should not have told what happened to my sister. But this is where I am. I am sorrow. She tried to comfort with saying it must have been part of something; that there are lessons for us to learn. I just cannot deal with thinking of my sister's life as a lesson and said as much. I should have kept my mouth shut... I should have nodded and let her believe that she was truly comforting me. But my level of tolerance for pithy declarations is low. Why am I, the aggrieved, expected to placate you in your stumbling efforts to comfort? Why do I have to deal with that too? It upset her and she left. My cohort in this writers group mentioned something about this being a safe space. I do not feel safe. (When a truck can drive through the wall of a house and kill your sister in the bed where she is sleeping, your view of safety, that was tenuous at best, is broken. "Safe as houses" is such a crock of shit.) But there, I laid my heart out and it was trampled on. I hate it. I want to compartmentalize. But how can compartmentalizing happen when you're dealing with writing and emotion? When this is where your writing is? I was angry at her for being upset and leaving, then I felt selfish... I am so selfish when I am sorrow.

Joy Swan

I got a memorial tattoo on my head that night. I needed that. A physical pain to commemorate the emotional pain with a beautiful swan that represents my sister. When I got the memorial tattoo for my mom, I cried. It was an emotional release. This one had no tears since I have been crying every day and night off and on for almost a month now.

But I feel I haven't hit the truth of my emotions with my sister. There is too much tangle with sorrow over cats dying and dog dying and worry about my other sisters and guilt for feeling sad about missing my trip and guilt for feeling relieved to be home... But deeper down I can feel an anger building. It's not here yet. I am still mired in sorrow. I am still sorrow... but the anger will come eventually.

And I am so tired. I feel like I might fall asleep in the middle of anything if I am not careful. I am sleeping more, but not well. My dreams suck. My writing sucks. I hate everything. I love everyone. I can do nothing right. I have the worst luck. That is not always the case. Do I go through cycles of luck and fortune? I feel like I do. But whenever my luck and fortune are good, I'm always waiting/dreading for the bad to come. When it does, it's always so much.

When my mom died five years ago, I kept waiting for the more. It didn't happen. I thought maybe things were different now. Maybe life was saying, "hey, here's this terrible thing you have to deal with. But here's time to grieve. You know how to grieve since you've had enough sorrow and pets dying and other things, so this is something you'll recover from." It was still so sudden and so sad, missing my mom and knowing all the work that my sisters and my dad were doing to make sure Joy was taken care of (and feeling guilty for being far and not helping)... But it was tenable.

But this... this is shit. This is like life took a huge bucket of suck and dumped it all over my family, making sure my youngest sister whose house it was got the worst of it (next to my oldest sister who died) with me getting a big splash off right in the face. And it splashed in all directions, before and after Joy's death, killing two of my cats, one on each side, before and after the accident, and my sister's dog on the latter side. No, not a bucket of suck... a bomb... an explosion... a truck crashing through a wall.

One of my aunts said, "God only gives you what you can handle." Glazing over the god comment and the pomposity of christians to think that their beliefs are the only ones that matter, I might've sprained my eyeballs trying to force them not to roll into the back of my head. I mean, no one ever commits suicide from not being able to handle the things in their life. Right? RIGHT?!?

Now that I brought up the dreaded 'S' word, I will take a moment to reassure you, dear reader and friend, that I am NOT suicidal. I wouldn't do that to my partner or my friends or my family, especially not with all the other shit they're having to deal with. Also, I don't feel suicidal. (I've been suicidal before... I know what it feels like and this is nowhere near that.) Suicidal for me meant that I was not writing. As long as I'm writing, either about what I'm going through or just random other things, nothing is quite so dire. I am writing every day, even if it is the worst, I am writing out my emotions and trying to make some sense of incomprehensible things through words that are completely fucking inadequate and stupid and I hate them and almost wish I didn't even know language so my thoughts could not form words and I could not write down all this drivel... But I am writing. I am sad and filled with more emotions than I know what to do with, but I am still writing.

I Am Going Nowhere Today

Meander on the left, Nemesis on the right

I Am Going Nowhere Today

by j9 vaughn

I see you out there Death 

Sitting on my doorstep

I will not ask you in

You were not invited

I will stay in my house

Pretend you are not there

I will not let you in

You were not invited

So much there is to do

With all you have taken

I do not want you here

You were not invited

But Death you came inside

And made my home your own

I did not ask you in

You were not invited

As of late, I have had a lot of death in my world. 

On November 1st (Dia de Los Muertos), I took my cat Meander who had been losing weight and acting lethargic, to the vet. We hoped it was related to the thyroid problems we were already treating. But his thyroid levels were fine. So we did X-rays and found that his entire chest cavity was filled with fluids. Every possible prognosis from there led to more pain and suffering for Meander. At 16 or 17 (his true age was never known as I got him when I was working at the shelter) and the frail state of his body, made him not a good candidate for surgery which my vet saw this leading to since there was most likely a cancerous mass causing the fluids. So I made the decision to euthanize. He died purring.

I wrote this blog post about my sister who died tragically on November 24th, 2018. The post includes a link to my youngest sister getting interviewed since it was the house she was renting that got destroyed. The house belongs to my cousin who had to fly back to the USA from Qatar to deal with all that mess. I ended up getting into Mexico, finding out about my sister, then turning around and flying back to the USA. (I was  going to the International Book Fair in Guadalajara with a grad class and for my job at the library.) 

On December 7th, my youngest sister, the one whose house had been destroyed and was there with my oldest sister, woke up to her elderly beagle Betsy (who had just been diagnosed with cancer behind one of her eyes) not breathing well. So my sister took her into the clinic. Her vet did everything she could, but Betsy didn't make it.

Nemesis (Nems) who was mine and my bestie's cat, had been losing weight just before I left for Mexico. My bestie and our housie were keeping an eye on him while I was gone. But he wasn't eating well, so when I got back, I took him to the vet. He was down from 11 lbs to 8 lbs, but the vet felt it was most likely due to a viral infection, possibly toxoplasmosis, and thought that he should be able to kick it with the antibiotics. But there was a slight chance that it was cancerous, so I was keeping a close eye on him. On December 8th, between 11 pm and midnight, a few hours after I had given him his meds and we had cuddled, he had moved to lay on the floor. (He always forgave me so fast! With 2 syringes of meds, 1 of water, and a pill shoved in his face, he would be mad for like half a minute then would come back to cuddle and purr in my lap.) I noticed he didn't come over for food, but he had eaten earlier so I wasn't too worried. Then he started coughing, loud and hard. He wasn't getting breath. I checked his airways, but he wasn't choking on anything, he was just choking. I called the 24 hour vet as he stopped breathing. They said to bring him in. With me practically shouting, "really? He's not breathing!" as my housie and I ran to the door and I was calling my bestie. But then I could feel his heart stop... and he went limp... Since I worked at an animal shelter years ago, I know how to check for vital signs in a cat. He was gone... so quick... on December 8th I had lost another cat, another friend, another gentle, loving soul. I cried, I wailed, I keened. My housie cried with me and, as soon as she got home, my bestie joined in the mourning. 

It just S U C K S!!!

December 12th, 2018, is my Mom's 5 year death-iversary. And I'm just done.

Death Stalked My Sister

This is the news station my sister Kess works for covering the accident that killed my other sister Joy. I so love & admire my youngest sister Kess for being willing to go on camera & be interviewed to make sure Joy’s story was told right. I doubt I could have done it.

https://www.waaytv.com/content/news/Family-remembers-Huntsville-woman-killed-in-tragic-crash-501291251.html

This is the poem I wrote:

And Followed Her Inside

To oceans and rivers

She was forever tied

To water and drowning

To death that ever lied

Until it drove a pickup truck

And followed her inside

Joy was my first best friend

I was her annoying shadow

She liked to tease and instigate

That’s how her love did show

We played at being mermaids

Sirenas of ocean flow

We learned to speak a language

Not our native tongue

Living in Venezuela

When we were both quite young

She had an ear for music

For HER Spanish sung

To oceans and rivers

She was forever tied

To water and drowning

To death that ever lied

Until it drove a pickup truck

And followed her inside

For five years we lived overseas

And such adventures had

Four lively sisters

With our mom and dad

We had a sheltered life

Before things went so bad

She once stopped me from drowning

I’d ignored my father’s call

I walked until my foot did slip

Atop a waterfall

She reached her hand and grabbed me

And saved me from the fall

To oceans and rivers

She was forever tied

To water and drowning

To death that ever lied

Until it drove a pickup truck

And followed her inside

The first of the tragedies

Came with deafening sound

In Puerto Ordaz Venezuela

A firecracker round

Was thrown in through a window

And landed on the ground

Right next to Joy’s desk

Exploding by left ear

The world went blank and silent

And nothing could she hear

For almost seven days

Before the ear did clear

To oceans and rivers

She was forever tied

To water and drowning

To death that ever lied

Until it drove a pickup truck

And followed her inside

The second strange occurrence

Came falling from the sky

Joy and her friend Jef

Were merely riding by

A road construction worker

Fell from a bridge on high

She thought her friend was dead

So much blood was all around

The roof had buckled inwards

With a devastating sound

But the blood was from the faller

The friends each other found

To oceans and rivers

She was forever tied

To water and drowning

To death that ever lied

Until it drove a pickup truck

And followed her inside

She studied to teach Spanish

High school teacher through and through

The students they all loved her

It was what she loved to do

Until they took that fateful trip

With tragedy so true

They went to Costa Rica

To take in all the sights

They learned and shared so much

Through several days and nights

The last day they went rafting

Beyond the city lights

To oceans and rivers

She was forever tied

To water and drowning

To death that ever lied

Until it drove a pickup truck

And followed her inside

But the rapids were unkind

And though she was a swimmer

She might’ve tried to save a man

And dove without a glimmer

Of what was waiting for her

Or how she’d not remember

Afterwards her brain was lost

Her care was everything

Our mother took the lion’s share

With all of us helping

Until our mommie’s heart did fail

Sister Q the new life ring

To oceans and rivers

She was forever tied

To water and drowning

To death that ever lied

Until it drove a pickup truck

And followed her inside

My sisters they were sleeping

When death came to entice

It shook the worlds foundation

With vengeance and with vice

Such devastating power

Crashing walls like paper rice

Kess my youngest sister

Was just two rooms away

As walls came falling down

And plumbing broke to spray

Dust and smoke were flying

As she ran into the fray

To oceans and rivers

She was forever tied

To water and drowning

To death that ever lied

Until it drove a pickup truck

And followed her inside

In the air to Mexico

I heard not the alarm

Ringing through the stratosphere

Our Joy has come to harm

My feet kissed foreign soil

As the world lost all its charm

My anger is an unhinged beast

Wants to destroy that man

Who stole my sister from this world

Without a thought or plan

I want to hit him with a truck

And end him if I can.

To oceans and rivers

She was forever tied

To water and drowning

To death that ever lied

Until it drove a pickup truck

And BURIED her inside

And yet all around my rage

Such blessings do abound

Joy would see the joy in it

Just stop and look around

For as she’d say in her own way

They always can be found