The Stuck and The Pause.

That stuck feeling, releasing all different variants of the fear-mongering “ick” feeling along with its stupid little friends like anxiety, depression, and downright mental claustrophobia. All of whom we try too often to dismiss with as much effort as shooing away a fly.

How often is it that we’re the one on our way to sanity in these moments in time? They don’t have to hold as much power as we offer. Yes, it’s optional. Yes, it’s easier to spout than to execute.

Still, who knew? Not me, not as often as I would like anyway. Too often, I struggle to catch it even when I’m staring that moment in its whole damn face! These moments must be why my sweet momma taught me to use terms such as “experienced” or “matured” rather than “old” or “elderly.”  She isn’t wrong because I tend to feel more “experienced” every day. Thank you to my dear firefly of a mother.

This feeling of stuck-ness is one that is all too familiar, but each time it approaches, opportunity approaches right beside it. The oh-so-famous moment of pause often lends much to this scenario as it works to prevent the damn incessant mouse wheels of neurosis from popping the fuck off their mounts. Unquestionably, a mess in of itself, and while it is undoubtedly deserving of its spotlight, this is not that time as it requires much more coffee and frosting (not in that order, unless you dig that sort of magic). The moment of pause is set in place to allow for time to ponder fancy things such as, what the hell does this even mean? Am I in any real danger? Is this worth my “freak-out” energy? Where does my control lie? Is this worth trying to fix, or can I let it work itself out? Who does this directly affect?  Whose business is this? Whose pants are these? Will I ever really be able to throw my boobs over my shoulder? Errm, but not like a continental soldier or, was it ears…? Can’t be; I can’t see anyone throwing their ears anywhere and have it be exciting. Not to mention, they’re already halfway over my shoulder anyway…. wait…. what were we talking about again…?  The moment of pause and the stuck feeling, Yes… Brilliant!!  The moment of hesitation holds the majority of our options and allows us to freely and rationally take our pick.

I do loathe the mental claustrophobia-inducing stuck feels. While my instinct is to panic and run as fast as I can in the other direction, the option to remain calm is always staring me right between the eyes… to be imperfectly Frank. You can be perfectly or imperfectly anyone you wish; it’s staring us all right in the face. How it would serve us so beautifully well to be a good host and throw our arms around our dear pause and lay a big smooch on it, maybe even offer for it to stay for a while.

Hope Manifested.

Longing for the winter as if its going to bring with it the winning lottery numbers…. or maybe i’m simply longing for the next season to finally turn over and lay with me…. I do enjoy a good spoon.

Sometimes, when it’s difficult to pull myself out of certain funks, a new coming season often brings a new and endless hope. Even as a child of God, follower of Jesus Christ (do I sound fancy yet?), I don’t always allow myself the ability to quiet and calm so I may operate in the peace that passes understanding, to rely on prayer rather than fretting.

Hope, in all her majesty, she is the seed of future and of love. To count on her even when she is seemingly nowhere to be found, mentally shape-shifting her into faith…. can feel like it’s the only visible pathway leading out of despair.

This is where beauty in brokenness is found. To see not only our power in the hope we’re able to manifest, but also seeing where God always was… that when we thought we were suffering alone, we indeed had love right beside us… covering us the entire time.❤

Thirty Minutes… Maybe

There are no solid ways of knowing what the hell is coming your way. My own natural way of going through my day-to-day is living in anticipation… of anything… of everything…. every damn second of every damn day. Constantly & consistently on guard and waiting for “that” something… anything, to be hurled in my direction. Exhausting, probably. It’s too ingrained to know the difference. I really do not know life apart from that internal, simple & silent chaos of the unknown. The slowing of this busy brain is difficult at best. Often, it is a tangled mess of thoughts where all clarity is lost.
So…. when I can, I focus on this beautiful, pompous (im going to take over your window) piece of lush green, overgrown tree. Maybe I’m crazy (yes we all know it, Im only saying what we’re all thinking. You’re welcome. Let’s move on), but I tend to wonder if it sometimes lends to me it’s energy..? It’s soothing to watch and somehow brings the chaos down to a dull roar… like shutting the door after making your kids go outside to play.
Now you’ve read this whole damn thing and you’re either wondering to yourself…. where can I find my own grand tree of pompous? Or…. where the F is she taking us with this rant??
The truth is, is that Ive sucked possibly a whole 30 seconds out of your life with a bit of crazy babble about very little. Maybe you can relate, maybe you cannot but this is a Daisy Rising post, lending to a distinct possibility that you may be at least minutely entertained. It doesn’t really matter but Im glad to have owned your ass for this 30… now probably 40 seconds of your life 😀
Carry on.

Day One.

YAY!!! So yes, this has happened!! Blog entry numero uno (numer 1), I’m SO excited.

So, “DaisySpeak”… who in the squid does this broad think she is and why does she get to add a fancy “Speak” to her name?? Well…simply put, I’ve spent a lifetime translating myself because as was confirmed in my early 20s (late 30s now….that’s all you’re getting in that confession), my thought processes continually proved to be stuck in left field for most. I’ve been told that I speak in riddles…this could be true but who the hell would want to confirm such a rabbit-trail conundrum!

Disclaimer… or if we’re being polite… areas I traffic in consist of the frequent …. (who doesn’t love themselves a fancy “…” here & there), () parentheses remind me of word prisons but they get the job done, profanity (because I enjoy its humorous effects), apparently left field descriptions/explanations… … … Im sure I’ll find more fun things to throw into said traffic, (especially since mental traffic is far more safe & legal to toss things into than vehicular traffic), as we go along.

The objective of this blog…. to love it… me love it; your love of it is entirely optional…a bonus, yes, & of course appreciated… but never required. I’ve been pointed in this direction for quite a long time now. While not one to typically keep creativity waiting, I can only assume that my tardiness has been forgiven because… here I am; speaking my truth in run on sentences but with proper spelling & wild mindedness in true Daisy-esque form. I’m beyond happy and so fucking excited we both showed up for it ❤

Thank You, Creativity!