As I type I’m surely asking myself why? Why do I do this? Why did I create a blog that in all honesty isn’t the greatest? Why do something and put a goal in to write something almost daily when I don’t get paid for it? Am I wasting my time? I’m no professional, I’m not a seasoned writer and as you’ve probably have seen, my grammar and more blows. I’ve looked around reading so many blogs from cooking to mental health and everything in between and they are amazing. I loved everyone’s blogs that have checked out mine and I ask myself why? There are so many of you that can do this better, explain this better, and are definitely more educated in grammar and basic writing better.
I finally have an answer. I hope you don’t think this is a woes me type of rant, I assure you that even in my last two writings I don’t want pity or attention because I’m broken. What I want, why I’m on here, and why I kept trying to get published is simple. My story is my way to let out what’s in my head. This has become a journey for me to start and let people truly see me. I have no editor, no page designer, I’m definitely not getting paid for this, and in all honesty probably most of us that have generic web sites are living pay check to paycheck to support a family. They, like me can’t afford to spend even the four dollars a month to go further into the blogging world. Because that four dollars a month can add up to food in your mouth or a heating and electric bill. If they are anything like me they are fine with that. Life isn’t easy and it kicks my ass almost daily. So, what’s my answer? It’s to be heard, even if only by one single solitary person. I’m not dumb; I know my life just as theirs will be nothing alike. If you put women all the same age, height, weight, family size, and so on in a room together, each of our experiences are different, we will each feel different, see differently. Someone once told me, and no I’m not sure where this originated from, “Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one.” This saying although at the time was used in a very crude and hurtful manner stuck with me through life.
This blog is just that, it’s my opinion. This is what I go through and day to day I want to help someone. Reach out and do something so special that it changes something. In this world, our society, someone who is no one, from nowhere, in their almost forties, batshit crazy, not well versed, and barely educated, is never really taken seriously. I’ve written books, letters, articles, I even reached out to the Ellen show, lol. Yes, I just used text talk; I had to, I’m still laughing at myself at the thought. I didn’t want my name published, I didn’t want to physically be on any TV show, I’m definitely not made for Hollywood so no worries there, but we still need to be heard and fight for what is right in this world especially now.
I look back and a while ago a friend of my fathers, someone I knew, was so depressed and mentally unstable he walked into an inpatient clinic. This is a man like most of us, even me, that no one had a clue he needed help of any kind. This was a man with a job, a home, a wife, and a family. Yet when he walked into that clinic he was desperate and probably in his mind screaming and begging for help. They, due to lack of beds and the fact they deemed him no threat to society turned him away. Soon enough he was home and the monster we all have ate him alive as he killed himself, leaving behind children and a family. Now, I have a close friend of mine screaming for help, even so far as to get arrested and only one time he was admitted to the crazy watch at the hospital, where he then was so bad and hurting he threw himself through the nearest window. Soon after healing and given pills he was sent home. They once again stated he was no longer a threat to society and beyond the millions of attempts by his whole family and friends, no one in the state we are in or even our adjoining state said they had a bed for him, some said they won’t admit him because his type of insurance didn’t pay. Soon enough he was bad, blacking out, and yet again got into trouble and arrested. I don’t yet know the fate of my friend and honestly with our little community in the middle of nowhere, none of us are ever heard of, we somehow don’t exist. So yes laugh at my attempt to reach out to even a damn TV show that I knew would give two shits because the ratings surely wouldn’t make a dent. When I wrote to the Ellen show I explained that I would sign anything, that I would give them permission to use my story as their own just to get people to know that this battle is raging and people are dying yet no one hears us screaming.
Reading blogs I hear more stories and more of us go unheard as we fight daily for some sense of normalcy. So yes, I have a book that has been turned down by hundreds of agents and publishers. I have article after article also turned down from just about everywhere in the United States, but I still am here writing. I don’t do this for money or fame and notoriety. I write because someone somewhere may read my story, read bits of my unpublished novel as I continue on this blog, and know if anything I will keep fighting and never give up for those of us without a voice. I will always remember my friends and others that have died and those still screaming and fighting for help just to get turned away. The system is broke, we aren’t being heard so no, I’m no professional and my grammar and way of writing sucks, but I write for them and I write for me. If I was able to be granted one wish it would be simple. I would wish that somehow, someway I could stand up combine forces with organizations that say they help, and actually do something to help. I would call it Amy’s Wish, because that is my only wish, that for the sake of my own two amazing and yet also diagnosed children, the millions of children out there, the men and women fighting, all those who are not being heard, become heard.
To those who made it through this mad rambling, I thank you. To those like me or those who know someone like me, stay strong, keep fighting, and probably by the time I’m long gone and my children’s generation are grown, the ripple of fight we start turns into a tidal wave and forces people to finally hear us. I know I will keep screaming and I hope all of you do as well.
A.N.E 