You Need a Test in Order to Have a Testimony...

Last week recap: 

There's always been a sort of melancholy rejection dance I've done whenever faced with dream disappointments: I bawl, hand over eyes with just enough of a crack to look around and make sure the Universe is watching. I ask the Universe, do you see this, Universe? I'm broken...I'm hurt. I'm tested...I'd do this little dance, but I'd still be hiding a tiny bit of joy, hope and optimism in my back pocket...

My dance didn't go so well last week, though. Last week...well, last week the Universe stepped on my pinky toe and then dropped me. hurt! I broke a bit last week. I'm not the first person to ask what my purpose is. Definitely not the first gal to cry over hearing the word no, but I was definitely the first me sitting on a couch trying to give up and forget.

I'm not healed. I just have a need to write that supersedes all bruised ego...unfortunately. I thought it would feel good not to write this weekend. No pressure to face the part of me I deem sucktastic. All I did the whole weekend was think about writing and what I needed to jaunt down. I wanted to drop kick me arse...and then some.

I still don't know if I believe myself to be a writer, but I'm definitely a pen hog. There's no stopping my writing purges. So what will I do next? I've accepted the fact that I don't know and maybe don't need to know quite yet.

I'll let Ms. Editor continue editing my ish. I'll then publish said ish online and see what happens from there. I have yet to figure out what anything in my life truly means...Everyone and their dog keeps telling me this is somehow normal..."No more comparing yourself to others' successes, Tish! No more beating yourself up! Stop pressuring yourself to have it all right this minute!" OK, OK...I get it. (somewhat.)

Man life is hard as balls! I think today I'll pretend like I'm working. Then I'll go home and clean the ISH out of my apartment...that ragamuffin spot. I shall grocery shop and watch at least two of my DVR'ed Oprah's and life shall be a bit more organized. One dang step at a time.


  1. This is crazy ironic. I too had a melt down last week. I mean tears, snot, screaming, the whole nine. I have four kids I can't be doing that. What kind of mother am I? like you I too am a writer. Sometimes the pressure of it can be overwhelming. I remember during fits of my tantrum asking God "What do you want from me?" Really it got that dramatic. I am trying to build my brand as a mommy blogger, but really how many more mommy blogs does the world need. Plus I am not really a great mom so I stay away from parenting advice. My kids drink coke and eat dried cereal for breakfast. Any way good luck you have a new friend in me.
    -Britnee Olive Pitts

  2. Isn't it hard?! lol...Don't you just want to take God to coffee one day and ask Him to break it down sista-girl style? sigh...

    We can do this Britnee. We can stick together through the insanity. Blow smoke up each other's butts...the whole nine.

  3. I'm not blowing smoke up your butt - I read your book gosh what probably a year ago? And parts of it still stay with me and I think about your book, things you said and the tishisms I learned from it often. So you definitely have something and you should keep going, your book is memorable, I know cause I read it and I remember it and it rocks and I want to read it again!

  4. I have a feeling that very soon it all will change for you and everything will fall into place. Sending kisses:)


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