My world will never be the same.
I’ve discovered how easy and fun it is to create my own e-cards using some ecards.
After just two minutes on the site, this is my first creation:
“SAHM” stands for Stay At Home Mom.
So. How do you like them apples?
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
I know I shouldn’t. I know some people say worry is a sin. That I’m either not a good Christian, or I need to let go or… whatever it is you tell people when they say they’re unreasonably afraid.
But I am.
Often.
I’m afraid every day of the unknown.
I’m afraid that I won’t get a “real” job and I’ll lose my house. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to support my small family. I’m afraid of what would happen to the cats if something did happen to the house. Dot, notsomuch. She’s young. She’s got relatives. She’ll be okay. But I worry about being separated from her and the felines and Bedford Manor. I worry about it all the time.
I worry about car accidents. I’ve been in ten plus hit as a pedestrian. All in the last 27 years. None my fault. But I worry about more. I’m afraid of being injured again. I’m afraid of never being fully healed from past injuries. I’m afraid of being without a car, and I’m afraid now that Dot has a license.
I worry that my past concussions will interfere with my future. That I might someday need assistance to be mobile, or worse: to remember.
I worry about bad things happening to my family. What if they get injured, or worse? What if we’re separated for some reason like moving away, or death? I’m afraid of someday not being able to have coffee with my mom or talk to my brothers on the phone or watch TV with Dot.
I’m afraid that Dot’s chance for a future, a really good future, is lessened because of me. Because I’m an unemployed, single mom and we are a statistic on the poverty threshold. I worry that she’s never really had a chance to succeed, and it’s all my fault for not doing more. I worry that we won’t be able to afford the transfer to a four-year University when the time comes.
I worry that choices I made in the past about people, places, events, and opinions will affect her future.
I’m afraid of always being in debt and never being solvent. Of not being self-sufficient. Of being a burden to those around me and never being able to pay it back, or pay it forward.
I’m worried that I won’t always be able to write well. To share my thoughts, my stories, my inspirations.
And I’m worried that I will.
I’m afraid that I’ll be successful and it will change everything.
I’m afraid that my past will always haunt me. That certain people will try to sabotage me and tell me I’m not good enough. I worry about expending more energy into proving them wrong than doing things right. I’m afraid the wrong people will care and the right ones won’t.
I’m afraid of the freedoms that being a Good Writer means: publication. Payments. Solvency. Recognition. Freedom to move, to travel, to explore. Obligations to work and opportunities to play.
The chance to be balanced. To give my family a future.
To live. To live the life I have planned.
I’m afraid of trying because I’m afraid of failure. But I’m also afraid of never trying.
I worry about saying, “I don’t know what to do,” and being laughed at. I’m afraid of being mocked.
I’m afraid of being alone.
And never being heard.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
This post is linked up with Shell at
It’s been a great week around here. Mary tells me that all my housecleaning was actually the result of a virus, for which chocolate is the cure. Well, now I know for next time. The cleaning having been already done, I guess all I can do is indulge in chocolate now as a preventative measure for later.
I’ve truly stuck to this week’s Theme to Write It Out! There’s a direct correlation between me keeping a journal and how much other writing I accomplish. I like being able to note each night what I’ve worked on, and make a list for the next day.
I bought a box at the local craft store yesterday. It matches my house decor. I intend to use it to hold the many scraps of notes and whatnots I collect as a writer. Paper, magazine clippings, drawings. Those little bits and pieces I need to reference but have no other place to keep them in. Apparently, it also makes a great cat pillow.
Tuesday I mailed out my first ever short story submission, as well as emailed an inspirational essay. I’ve entered contests before, but these are my first ready-to-go, researched, unsolicited manuscripts. Ever. And I finally got the nerve up to send out two in one day.
I know. Exciting, right?!
I’ve a job interview next week (postponed from last week). I also took a typing test for the local school district. Can you believe their requirement is only 30 wpm? Of course, that’s because the position I’m applying for is classified as “Substitute Clerical”. Apparently, I did much better than the others because my score was the only one to merit exclamations and a shout-out from the test proctor. “Molly! You can TYPE!” *Insert happy face here*
Well, that’s Life at Bedford Manor this week. Time for you to link up and share your world!
On a personal note, I want to thank everyone who links up. You’ve all been diligent about adding the blog badge to your posts, and that has helped streamline and direct traffic back to these posts. So thank you very much for not making me require backlinks. Y’all rock!
You can also click the bottom link “Get The Code Here…” to add to your blog and the list will appear with your submitted posts as well. I encourage you to do so, so that all our readers can have the benefit of all our posts! And you can add more posts through your link and every post will show on every list. Nifty, huh? I think so!
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
A few things to remember:
So, c’mon. Join the conversation. After all, a great coffee date is one where everyone gets to chat, dontcha think?
NOLA, by Molly Jo Realy
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