I wanted to write this awesome blog on all the reasons I hate making New Year resolutions. Then crap hit the fan and I was in a real bad place. Emotionally, I felt as if my heart had been ripped out, shoved back in, ripped out again. This process went on for hours until I literally felt as if I were going to vomit. There were times during the day, I would calm myself, only to fall back down into the pit of despair.

It was during this time I contemplated writing a murder mystery from the murder's point of view. To keep my mind occupied and my hands busy, I finally opened chapters 9-12 of Hellion's Highlander for some polish. I came across this paragraph.

She fought hard to find grief in her father’s death. She tried hard not to find a bit of pleasure knowing he died the way he had. However, she chastised herself, it wasn’t Godly. It wasn’t right to wish ill will of others, even if they were monsters of the worst kind. And although, there was a small part of her that wished she'd been the one to cut out his bowels, she knew in her heart of hearts she never could have. She may have killed men in battle, but never in such a cold calculating manner.

Talk about putting yourself on the pages. When I first wrote this almost a year ago, my uncle had just committed suicide. I was angry at the abuse he'd suffered as a child that drove him to drugs, alcohol, and eventually death. Now, don't get me wrong, I think everyone has a choice, well almost. When an innocent child is abused by the people who should love and nurture them into adulthood, that child may not have a choice but to accept what is given them because they know no better. However, my uncle had a choice. He had a choice to fight the demons plaguing him. And he did for a long time, until finally he could no longer control them. The thing is, he probably could have continued his fight if he wouldn't have fallen back to his addictions.



Fast forward to yesterday. It seems like the God has granted us experience in the past to deal with the future. I don't know how much I can say or even if I should say anything at all. But when you love someone so very much, and their hearts are so tenderly precious, it hurts like hell to see not only the emotional abuse but the physical abuse. It's also hard to know that the signs can be a good thing, because at least we see them and the abuser is getting careless. The more documentation, the better for the child, the sooner the child can be safe.

When I came to this paragraph, it was unexpected. I had forgotten about it and it was in a place-well, totally unexpected. It hit me hard, I cried. I don't like feeling hate. In fact, it makes me angrier when a person evokes those kind of emotions out of me. I mulled over the words, and I felt them. I changed a few, then changed them again. Pulled between what I really wanted to write and holding myself back from those strong emotions.

Writing has been good therapy for me over the last year, especially over the last few months. Not that I needed it, well maybe just a little. In the real world, sometimes your hands are tied by the legal system that should be there to protect the innocents. You feel helpless, sometimes hopeless. In my writing world I can create mayhem. I can deal justice in a fitting manner, and I can leave it all on the pages.

As you look back over the past year, count your blessings. As you look forward to the New Year, pray for those blessings to continue, may God bless you in abundance with love and friendship. I'll leave you with an Irish blessing I shared over at RRT.

An Irish Blessing for the New Year-

May joy and peace surround you,
Contentment latch your door,
And happiness be with you now,
And bless you evermore.

Renee