Monday, June 29, 2015

Therapy and what the fuck is the big deal

Whether you need to see a therapist a psychologist or psychoanalyst and no I have no idea the difference between all of them except the psychologist gives the good drugs. 

So I'm back 'home' where I grew up, for the most part-I lived in three different states by the time I was thirteen and that was states not cities-it's where most of my aunts, uncles, and cousins still live. Growing up we were all very close there was trade offs often of one person's kids for the other person so all the children could survive into adulthood and the parents stayed out of jail. 

My aunts and uncles grew up with parents who had more kids than money and time in the day to take care of everyone. I have spoken freely of the childhood I had, my mother had never heard of time out, her time out was to explode in anger beat the shit out of the closest kid, sometimes with a hair brush, a shoe, or if worse came to worst her hands. This was not a secret among the aunts and uncles which was why it was rare their kids got left with my mom, although some aunts had hair triggers and smacked their kids around none went as far as my mom. My mother had no filter, no shame, no guilt over the things she did to us, often bragging about how bad it was a few times and other times how quickly she jumped my ass before I knew what was coming. There were even two aunts who invited me to come live with them and although I wanted to say yes so badly I couldn't leave my brothers behind. My mom wasn't just an abusive mother she was extremely neglectful-I was cooking dinner by the time I was seven, with a chair pushed up to the stove. 

For my father, he knew but felt there was little he could really do, this was the mid-eighties, aside from paying child support dads were lucky to get weekends with their kids. He also believed my mom was worse with me than my older brother (jealousy-he wondered but wasn't sure) my two young brothers got the least of it because one had asthma and could be sent into an asthma attack from fear alone-she learned a few times emergency rooms asked a lot of questions. The other was the baby and escaped on that alone. So my dad did his best to stay away from my mom and not show me much affection when she was around and no my father was not some pedo or anything like that I think it was just maybe jealousy that my father showed affection for anyone else period. 

Anyway childhood until preteens was the kind of hell you hear about but don't actually believe exists The later years were just mindfucking and manipulations that were only half as bad as the beatings. I knew, simply knew that I was going to need help to work through it all and not- you know become a serial killer. From a young age I never questioned I wouldn't make it far in life without help working through all that pain and rage I kept bottled up just to get through every day. I tried a few therapists without much help until I found the guy who saved my life and damn I miss him. 

So I'm at a family get together and I'm talking to a cousin and I pop off with some remark about missing my therapist or therapist period and she seems shocked. "You've seen a therapist?" 
So, I'm not a quiet person by any stretch of the word, I'm loud and proud or I don't talk at all. She had whispered the question, I responded loud enough I could be heard by anyone within a fifty foot radius without an ounce of shame. 
"Uh yeah!" I want to ask how she hasn't because her mom was one of those too, not bad bad, but bad. She shrugs and goes "Huh, I'm just surprised." 
"Really? After what I went through? If I had broken my leg I wouldn't have gone to Uncle so and so to get it fixed, I wouldn't have tried to go to a cheap mechanic. Or just shrug it off and say it will heal on its own. I would have gone to a doctor and had it reset or walked with a limp for the rest of my life. My therapist reset my broken mind and my only regret is it took so long to see him. I'm not ashamed of seeing a therapist and maybe if more people did there'd be a little less crazy suppressed by weed, liquor, and people shooting other people in this country, but hey maybe I have no idea what I'm talking about.
So is your son still playing football?"

My sister-in-law balks at the idea of talking to a therapist about getting over my nephew's death (he was only 10 months old). She feels it's just a way for people to go whine about their problems and she feels like she's stronger than that. "But didn't you just say you thought if you and my brother had seen a counselor after the baby's death it would have helped you both?" No response for a very long time-until this-"I don't need to pay some person to talk to about my life I have my mom and my best friends and if I'm having problems at work then I have a boss I can talk to." Okay, only her mother hasn't lost a child and neither have her friends and what happens when the problem at work is her boss? 

It isn't fair to put your problems on people who aren't equipped to deal with them and you can't always save yourself. Walk with a limp that no one can see or walk tall without hiding from yourself. It's your choice. 

Saturday, June 27, 2015

Excerpt for soon to be released-His Healing Touch

With Editor now-Release date first week of July

Blurb soon to be released- His Healing Touch

The curtain goes back and Kayla re-enters. She’s hands him a folder with a smile, ignoring me completely. “Thanks. Let’s take a look.” With a last squeeze of my arm he gets off the bed. Going to the wall he pins up the film to a light box then turns on the light. He studies it intently for what feels like forever. “Hmm…there’s no break. The only problem is it still looks really bad. I’m going to recommend you see Dr. Richardson, he’s one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the city. I’ll give him a call to see when he can get you in.”
“Don’t you think I can just wait to see how it feels and if it doesn’t feel better then go see him?” I hate making a fuss, what if the doctor thought I was being a baby and told me I’d be fine if I lost fifty pounds?
He studies me like he did the x-ray, intently with eyes determined to see everything. His words are soft, his tone curious. “You think it’s a good idea to endure pain for what, a few days, a week before resolving an issue? Instead of being seen and identifying the problem immediately? How is that a good thing?”
Can I please just crawl away to cry in peace? From long years of dealing with my parents I give in, he won’t know if I never go. “You’re right, thank you. I appreciate you referring me to him.”
“Maggie, I haven’t known you very long however I do know when I’m being lied to.” The words are clipped, they feel like a rap on my knuckles.
Hanging my head, I shrug. “I’m sorry. I just don’t get what the fuss is about. Yes it hurts really bad but it just happened. I’m sure in a few days it will go away. I’ll keep icing it and the pain will go away.”
Sighing, he shakes his head. “The best thing for it and your ankle is heat not cold. You said you can take of yourself only it doesn’t sound like you really can. You’re going to Dr. Richardson if I have to take you myself.”
Resentment at his interference bubbles up. God, how embarrassing will it be for him to sit there and listen to the doctor just say I’m fat? It’s not as though he doesn’t know that, obviously he knows that. I flop back onto the gurney tunring my back on him. This day is shit, I just want it to be over now. Fuck, I am not crying. I am because his fingers are wiping away the tears.
“Maggie, why are you crying?” His breath is close enough I can feel it over my cheek, he smells of mint and coffee and dark chocolate.
Go away, just go away I want to yell. I try to roll away from his touch but he won’t allow it. A hand goes to my chin holding me toward him. I want to scream. This isn’t fair what he’s doing to me when I barely know him. Desperate for it to stop the words explode from me. “He’ll just tell me I’m fat and to lose some weight if I want the pain to go away!”
I can hear his harsh intake of breath. His grip tightens on my chin. “Look at me damn it. Open your eyes and look at me.” The words are grated out. His voice has gone down to almost guttural. “Stop it, right now. Stop thinking of yourself as fat because you aren’t. You are a beautiful woman who has curves in all the right places. From a medical standpoint your body is not unhealthy. From the standpoint of a man, you are sexy as fuck.”
My eyes fly open, no fucking way. I have no idea I said the words aloud until he says them back to me.
“Yes, fucking way. I was attracted to you the first time I saw you. Pickles is getting an extremely large bone and you a thousand apologies because I can’t say I’m sorry for what Pickles did, even seeing you in pain can’t make me sorry. It’s taken three weeks to get up the nerve to approach you. Then you looked so bored I was losing the confidence to ask you out.”
The pain has receded completely in my shock. “You work up the nerve ask me me out? Are you fucking with me right now?” 

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Why I'm grateful for 50 Shades of Grey and you should be too

Whether you are a romance/erotica/erotic romance or even doing the chick lit route author, traditionally or self-published, a stay at home mom, working mom, single or in a committed relationship pretty much all women who are having sex or want to have sex on a regular basis-this goes for men too. You really should be writing a  thank you note to E.L. James. Say what you will about the quality of writing or lack there of, when I finally read it I will say (this coming from a person quite willing to be a bitch) it wasn't as bad as people made it out to be. It also wasn't nearly as salacious as it was made out to be either. 



What can I say I like it dirty. 


I didn't read it until last year but I've been saying it for the last few years, the story/writing itself didn't matter so much as the fact that the book opened up the conversation about women and their needs and desires when it comes to sex. In the past women were told they were to submit to their husbands/significant others and hope they didn't take long. While Sex and the City made it okay to not only like sex but spelled out the sex is an integral part of a satisfying relationship. It didn't really go into the bedroom, except Samantha's and said she was a whore for liking and wanting sex on her terms-not really a step in the right direction for women. 




Several times I've seen people post stuff and call themselves crazy or weird and I shrug and think, yeah not so much. The 'norm' is a very flexible description for anything in life. Shades took sexual acts, things not considered 'normal' and pulled it out of the dungeon into the daylight. Wait, it's okay to like to be spanked? I can like my sex rough and dirty? I'm not a freak for liking to be tied up? I can actually talk to my partner and tell them what I like and don't like? Not gonna lie the last thing ticks me off the most. If a woman doesn't feel comfortable enough to sit down-outside of the bedroom- and talk not just about birth control but things they do and don't like, favorite sex positions, yes please/no please to nipple play, I like to be tied up, a tap on the ass is fine but anything more and I'll break your hand. Without the comfort level that is there to have that conversation then how can the woman truly be comfortable enough to not just get off but really, really enjoy it? So many women live in their heads-me included-how can they disconnect enough to not worry if they are doing it right or look good (which really men could cared less about BTW) while having sex or worry their man will do something they don't want to just let go and be in the moment and enjoy what's happening?



Ok, maybe the conversations was actually happening but usually with the best friend, sister, or god forbid mother and not the actual sex partner. So Shades opened the door, not just to a lifestyle but for women to see really see sex as an enjoyable, healthy need that they had a real say in. I also liked that it made the guy's needs 'unhealthy' or not important or hey maybe we can split the difference here and it not be a flat no. There can be varying degrees of what a partner wants and needs. With that came the realization it doesn't just end there, and hey I don't actually like someone flogging my ass but there are all these other books out there and I like what's going on in this book, ooh and this book and no fucking way on this book. 

Say what you will about E.L James and yeah yeah yeah all you erotica writers were here before her and are better writers and she's a one hit wonder-oh no wait three time and now four time. Were the readers looking for you like they are now? Were any erotica writers featured in a newspaper or morning news show before Fifty Shades? The answer is no. Just like there was Sookie Stack House before Twilight and Mercy Thompson before Twilight the attention blew up after a book everyone wants to diss rolled out-no I haven't read it and life is too short to waste that kind of time. (If I wrote vampires and wolf stuff I probably would just to see what the competition looks like. But I don't.)

For the writers out there shaking their head and refusing to give James any credit other than getting BDSM all kinds of wrong and I'm an idiot, really? Does your unicorn roam free in your backyard or do you keep him in a stable because you are the delusional one. You don't have to like the bank in order to cash your check there. You do and should give props for it being open and willing to cash your check and those readers who probably hadn't read a book in a year or two took the 50 Shades to number one and were hungry for other books just as salacious just as naughty, dirty, and good. You are cashing their checks. 





I wouldn't say I'm an E.L. James fan, I stopped at book two and have no desire to read the recycled Grey out from Chrisitian's POV. This isn't a bet I lost but I do owe her a word of thanks for putting it out there, all out there because without it I wouldn't have put mine out there as erotic romance. They would all have been fade to black Harlequin Presents knockoffs and I love what I'm doing, the stories that I'm sharing and for that, I'm saying thank you.