The eccentric writer (12) – All that drama over a fall down the stairs

This was something I posted on my Facebook page two years ago. Can’t decide if I find my over-imagination stupid, unnecessary, annoying or all of the above spring-rolled together with some other terms which my just-woken-up mind is too lazy to think of. But I guess I’m just another writer with more mind on her hands than time. 

Slipped six steps down the stairs while getting the kids’s stuff ready in a hurry.

Heartbeat escalated.

My life flashed before my… what??? No!

It was more like, “Oh no! Gotta stop at this stair… nope? Maybe the next one then… not this one too? Must. Not. Hit. The tiled floor at the bottom. Wonder what the impact is going to do to my tailbone or my spine. And my head is going to hit to edge of a stair. No, that probably would’ve happened before I hit the bottom. Maybe I should spread my ‘wings’ out to make sure all this does not happen.”

It’s amazing how so much can go through your mind in just two seconds. So drama. I blame #Sherlock!

Anyway, praise God for the protection. All I got was a scratch on my arm which I can see but not feel. Haha…

Be like Jon… or John

The green-eyed monster… (And the priest referenced Shakespeare for it this morning during his homily. 😜)

Saul was jealous of David. Seriously, all the young boy did was slew a soldier with acromegaly. But the green-eyed monster in him made him hunt David down to have him killed. What drives a person to act on their jealousy?

People are often envious – the word is synonymous with ‘jealous’, the priest pointed that out, too – of the looks, possessions and abilities of their ‘neighbour’. We are also, in a way, jealous when we ask how someone could get away with what they’ve done and gain something good out of their ‘inconceivable’ act.

Insecurity. It’s a sick cycle carousel. When you’re insecure about yourself, you start to feel jealous about another person, you act on it, eventually making that person feel insecure about themselves, too.

Insecurity. Something I’ve come to be so familiar with in 2015. It probably started way before that but last year was hell year for me because it surfaced itself in all its smugness. I wouldn’t say what or who caused it. Because, now that I’m on the road to freedom and recovery, I’ve thought back on how I could’ve ignored those provocations but I felt too trampled upon to think rationally.

As ironic as it may seem, I am a writer whose weakness is with words. It is ironic but also mostly only verbal. I shut down instantly when abused verbally. I do not know how to stand up for myself when caught in the path of worded bullets even when I know I didn’t do anything wrong. A surprise interrogation is the best way to take me down. I would get into an anxiety meltdown, possibly even a cardiac arrest. Unless I have a reply scripted out beforehand, I would just… well, die. At this point, I look at my son and realise where he got his anxiety disorders from.

There, you can try ambushing me when you see me next and watch me wilt in my little corner. (I did NOT just associate myself with a flower, did I? 😒) But I doubt most of you would be satanic enough to pull that off without feeling an inch of guilt. I don’t care if I’m right about that last statement. Just want to see everyone as naturally good.

There is no way to go around our insecurities but to feel good about ourselves. There is no other way to feel good about ourselves but to see ourselves through the eyes of our Creator.

Jealousy, in my opinion, is the most deadly emotion. It clouds our judgements. It kills. Jonathan, son of Saul and John the Baptist are biblical figures who were not jealous. Be like Jon and John. 😆

Out of this world

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Some people ask if I believe in

the world of wizardry and witchcraft,

or the existence of races such as the elves, dwarves and tiny little people with big feet,

or the possibility of souls passing on into another universe, dimension and timeline,

or gods dying to die like the mortals who are trying to live forever,

or kingdoms where dragons reign alongside humans.

They ask because these are the stories that I love to read.

These are the stories that pique my interests all the time.

My answer is simply this:

that I believe only in what I am living through.

I live and love what I’m living through.

But then again, that does not mean that

the writer in me does not believe in fantasy.

In fact, the writer in me lives in a world of fantasy

where there is an infinite possibility of

multifarious realms beyond our imagination.

The writer in me lives in a different world altogether.