Inside My Creative Mind

A Look Inside My Creative Mind: YouTube Is Up!

So I finally did what I've been talking about for years. I finally set up an YouTube account in connection with my blog. It's called Look Inside My Creative Mind. I just uploaded my first video last night. Go watch and tell me what you think. I really appreciate any and all feedback!

https://youtu.be/SOETfWZ3Ig8

The Ramblings Inside My Creative Mind: Dark but Not Spooky

I am an October baby. A Libra through and through. Halloween is my Christmas and I love everything spooky. This year was much much different and it unfortunately altered my whole season and spirit.

My birthday fell on a Wednesday. I had everything all planned out. I was going to go to the amusement park the Saturday before, dinner with my mom that Sunday, and the Thursday after I was going to get into my car to go travel my second home, Chicago, for a comic con that weekend. I was, of course, looking forward to all of this. The Friday before my birthday I woke up with the feeling that my throat was on fire. Great. A cold. So no roller coasters. Instead I went to see Joker where I could barely keep my eyes open. That Sunday, even after feeling like death, I still wanted to go to dinner with my mom, but she couldn't be bothered to drive (which honestly hurt) and I didn't feel up to getting behind a wheel, so I crawled back in bed. On my actual birthday my mother managed to get under my skin about me driving on my own to Chicago... which, mind you, I'd done a ton of times when I used to live there. That Thursday morning I woke up nauseous and nervous. She had gotten to me, but I put too much money into this trip to let nerves get the best of me. Once I got on the highway everything was fine. Music was high, I felt free, and the sniffles didn't matter.... Then I get into Chicago. Once I got into the loop it was just bumper to bumper no moving. Good ol rush hour. Every time we would go an inch my car would jerk. We'd move a little more and then she'd start to jerk and chug some more. With only less than an hour until I reached my hotel I decided to hop off the highway and just take the city streets. I reached a tunnel and at a point and, just like the movies, I see steam rise thinking it was coming from the manholes. I go several blocks and it happened again. Oh, that wasn't the street that was my car smoking. Great. By the time I got to the hotel everything seemed to spiral from there, at least in my mind. I was scared to drive my car the entire time I was there. I checked under the hood several times a day as if I knew what I was looking for. Even if I wasn't scared I was too sick to leave my hotel room anyways. I had developed a cold sore right before the trip so I became incredibly self conscious knowing that that weekend I was supposed to take photo ops with Tessa Thompson, Brie Larson, and Jake Gyllenhall. I was convinced that everyone could see it underneath the makeup and that I just looked gross. You take the flu, feeling inadequate, and my car damn near exploding then top that with a comic con that was poorly ran and overpriced you get a pretty crappy birthday. I mean I did get to hug Jake Gyllenhall, so there is that.

I can't pinpoint where my happiness, I usually have for October, faded. Not sure if it's because that cold kept me from fully enjoying myself or, I forgot to mention, that the one year anniversary of my miscarriage was also that weekend. I was already feeling the effects of that weeks in advance. Pictures of babies making me cry, seeing kids out and about making my heart break and overall emotional. It's as is that feeling never really subsided a year later. It took me out as if I was just told that my baby was gone. A year later and it still hits me more than I can evern imagine. So sickness or dead baby. Which is causing me to feel like I'm drowning this time? Could be a witch's brew of it all.

Halloween was a bust. I was too sick to even think about a costume let alone put one together. Also where to even go. My own personal Christmas was ruined. Therefore any following holiday is ruined. Not looking forward to Thanksgiving. My family is dwindling and for sure show no signs of growing (because who knows if that can even happen, my complicated relationship, my age, and my mental health). I don't even want to think about Christmas. No motivation to even hum a carol or decorate a tree. This isn't my "bah-humbug". This is my "I just want to not exist for a little while". It's my "this is getting to be a little too much". Tis the season.

I'm not sure what it is about this year. I've had a few hard hits but definitely not like the past few years. I feel like 2019 has been nothing but the past three years breathing down my neck like evil spirits that refuse to leave me. They live to remind me of all I've lost and failed. Just so much death and unhappiness. Even with my hopes wavering there are few rays of sunshine. I graduate next month and no matter how I'm feeling I've come to far to fail this. But still I feel my future looks pointless and unfulfilled. I look ahead and I can't tell which direction I'm going and no matter which road I take looks like a dead end. It's very confusing because I've spent a lot of time this year trying to be a better person and I feel worse off. I suppose I still move forward. Find little joys, if possible, but I'm just so very tired. I feel defeat over anything else. Maybe it's Mercury in retrograde again or just my life being stuck. All I know is that this is more than birthday blues.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2019 ©️

Never Made To Fly

I emerged with my wings clipped
Made to fear the sky
When all I wanted was to soar
Never leaving upon my branch
As the world flies by below me
Above me
The world spins as I sit still
A courage thrived inside
In spite of the panic bestowed upon me
I jump only to plummet
So far from the world I’ve known
Yet still far from a world I’ve never explored
Soft grass under feet
But no wind under wings
For my wings were clipped
So that I could never soar

-Asia Aneka Anderson, Never Made To Fly 2019(c)

The Ramblings Inside My Creative Mind: Happy Father's Day Sounds Bittersweet

This is my third fatherless father’s day and tomorrow will mark three years since he’s been gone. The continuous rain outside represents my mood perfectly. You assume after three years that grief subsides, but on days like today it’s as almost it happened yesterday. The sound of my wailing when my mom said “He’s gone” echoes in my head. I want to go back and hold that girl, past me, tell her that’ll it’ll be ok, but three years later I’m not sure if I’m ok.

To hear people say to one another “Happy Father’s Day” is depressing. It causes jealousy. How come I don’t have my dad? It’s not fair, but it never is. While everyone celebrates I curl up in the bed and weep. That’s been my father’s day for three years. To lose him on father’s day weekend adds an extra sting. Last year his death date fell on father’s day and I hurt to my bones. It’s not fair.

My saving grace is my uncle who checks in from time to time, especially around this time. Although he missed me at work the other day my coworker, who actually grew up with my dad, relayed the message and he told her that my dad raised me. I was with him all the time. I told her it was true. He got hurt at work when I was very young and had to retire do he was stay at home dad. He was a damn good job and he made sure I grew up to be the caring, creative, outspoken, self respecting woman that I am today. Things I hope to pass down to my kids given the chance I have any. The baby I lost last year I know is getting the same guidance I did up there.

So today as I hear the rain that has no ending my tears do the same. Eventually the clouds will separate for the sun, but for now it’s ok to live in the rain. I have to allow myself that. Although three years the hurt is still fresh. You wonder what life would be like today if he was still here. The selfishness of wanting them here while admitting that with them being gone they are no longer in pain. My dad had been ill for years. Not being able to drive, walk long distances without losing breath because of COPD, couldn’t do the things he loved to do. No one wants to live like that nor would I want them too, but I do wish he was still here. So, I say to the heavens “Happy Father’s Day” ❤

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2019©️

What Happens When Love Doesn't?

Two hearts untangle
Finding a rhythm of their own
Lasting gazes erase
Avoiding the aching soul
Smiles fade
As does the happiness
Paths divide
Leading two from one
Something meant to be
Becomes to be no more
What hurts does heal
What dies is reborn
Hearts beat and tangle once again
Pulses race
Mind and body collide
You succumb to the fall
Dreaming wide awake
Finally felling
What happens when love does

- Asia Aneka Anderson, What Happens When Love Doesn't? 2019(c)

Could always use the hug

The Ramblings Inside My Creative Mind: Hey Kids, Let’s Talk About Mental Illness

Did everyone pull through the Mercury retrograde with everything intact? I hope so, because if it unraveled it’s a bitch trying to put it back together again. I’m speaking for me, of course. Depression is already my oldest friend, seasonal depression is my depression’s older meaner cousin that depression invites over for the holidays (WITHOUT MY PERMISSION) that doesn’t leave for several months on end, then when I get that bastard to finally leave here comes Mercury being all emotional and taking me down with her. In short the last few months have been nothing but a huge dumpster fire.

Moods change without warning. Tears come without provoking. Exhaustion comes when sleep is abundant. Mercury has her shit in check finally but the aftershocks and events to come leave little sunlight. Seasonal depression always hits me hard because the feeling of being stuck gets overwhelming. I know I mention a lot that I miss Chicago and I want to move back, but Chicago just represents something bigger for me. It’s not just a place, but any place where I feel like I belong and unfortunately home has never been that. Ohio has never felt like a place where I could let my hair down, be me, feel accepted, feel free, and give me inspiration. That may not make sense, but my personality is attracted to big lights and busy streets full of life. Something I can draw inspiration from. My muse. It doesn’t have to be Chicago, but Chicago did provide that escape for me. So, here we are in another winter. Another season of self loathing and “Someone please get me the hell out of here!” Domino effect. My mind becomes idle and still therefore it grows angry and bitter. Depression’s mean older cousin’s way of letting you know they’ve arrived.

Life is redundant. Everything and everyone gets on your nerves. Then daylight savings time hits and that mean old cousin starts to pack his bags, but not before leaving a nasty note on your pillow to tell you he’ll be back for Thanksgiving. Asshole. Then, just then, when you felt like the worst was over it wasn’t. Retrograde threw my mind for a loop. Not knowing whether I was coming or going. A constant anger and sadness that replaced everything I was. Work killing me more than usual. A semester that seems to be going into it’s 17th month of never ending arithmetic and whatever the hell my professor is teaching solely through YouTube videos. A relationship that you swear is going nowhere. Are we going to make any big moves…. hell moderate moves or is this it? Just this standstill? It all became infuriating. Infuriating because I’m not moving. If there is any moving it’s in slow motion… backwards. On the inside there’s just this constant screaming that doesn’t let up. The depression says “Well, where are you gonna go anyways?” Good point. All the things that once motivated me are no longer my happy place. So where do I go?

Last week I had an idea. I dreamt that I approached a railroad crossing. I parked my car across the tracks, hopped into the passenger side, fastened my belt and waited for the train to hit the opposite side. I woke up in a hospital bed with all my loved ones around me and wept when I realized I was still alive. I’ve taken enough psych courses to know that it means I don’t want to die. I switched seats so that my body would be recognizable for God’s sake. But I do know it represents that I want a change that makes a huge impact, but I could be wrong. I do know one thing, depression has been my friend longer than anyone and he had never brought me dreams this vivid. And never did he make it look so sweet. As we grow closer to the date I would’ve given birth, the date I would’ve graduated which has now been pushed back, and the third anniversary of my dad’s death it kinda makes you wonder what the meaning of it all is? Is there any? A life where you just eat, sleep, work, and pay bills can’t be something fulfilling… or I should say that it isn’t. Not for me. I don’t even know what to look forward to. The next less than desirable paycheck?

I try and I try but things seem to never go right and even when they start out that way they soon sour. I wonder if things had been different had I been the child to rebel instead of follow rules. What if my dreams were encouraged instead of laughed at? Modesty out the door, I obviously have a way with words, but there’s only so many stories you can make about a broken girl who has no hope. Even character me is always stuck. Where does she go? Where is her happy ending? While we’re at it, where’s mine?