Why You Are Destined to Offend Others & IWSG

Relationships are messy. 

Right?

Just as soon as it seems everything is going well, something pops up that needs to be straightened, fixed, discussed, changed.

This is life: Change. Always.

We all have thoughts, feelings, influences, moods, (hormone swings -- ugh), and more. There's no way you can go through life without saying or doing something that will strike someone else poorly. And even offend them.

In fact, you may do things intentionally that will offend others.

I might too.

Ultimately, we will all be offended, hurt, or broken at some point. And if we're fully living life, many times -- perhaps even in a single day.

Something I learned when I was being bullied as a kid: It was my choice HOW to react. I could lash out and add to the animosity, ignore it and hope it would go away, shrink into myself and nurse a poor-me mentality, or I could choose to understand that people make mistakes and perhaps they were acting as a result of their own trauma.

I mean, not all of them. People are lemmings and some were just following the crowd.

The point is, I could CHOOSE to be offended.

And yes, it's a choice.

I could also CHOOSE to let it go and focus on happiness rather than obsessing over how everyone else was acting.

Being angry or hurt happens. It's an instant reaction and that's aceptable. But holding onto it, that's a decision that we make consciously or subconsciously, and we darn well better make a conscious, mature decision because we are adults. (Haha! I mean, some of us are. Sometimes.)

Being hurt is a choice.

Being angry is a choice.

Hurting others will happen--no matter how careful we are. Apologies are great but we have no power over other's decisions to accept or not accept.

So my advice today: Decide to let things go. Realize all people are impulsive, offensive, and broken sometimes. It's up to us to choose if we will be one of them or if we will let go of pain and anger so we can embrace the joys these emotions blind us against.

As for me, I'm choosing joy. As often as needed.

The awesome co-hosts for the October 1 posting of the IWSG are Beth Camp, Crystal Collier (Me!), and Cathrina Constantine!

The question is optional.

October 1 question - What is the most favorite thing you have written, published or not? And why?

Haha! This is easy. Immortal the Musical. Okay, so there is a book version, pending publication, along with a huge social media release, but the ACTUAL musical? I'd have to say it got its first sneak peak debut back in March. And it was well received. This is the culmination of all my writing expertise, decades of music, singing, orchestral study, composition, lyric work, and poetry of the heart (as my great-grandmother calls it). I don't think you can get more epic than that, right?

Give me your thoughts! Have you been deeply offended? Let go of a deep offense? What is your favorite project you've ever worked on (writing or otherwise)? And do you have a link?

How to Find Happiness A-Z: A

You might wonder why I chose to focus all of April on Happiness. It seems no matter how desperately you grasp after it, it can slip through your fingers like grains of salt.

Granted, I'm not happy 100% of the time because there have to be downs if you're going to appreciate the ups, but there are a few key things that can help anyone find the silver lining, even through the rough patches, and that's what I hope to share through this A-Z adventure.

So "A" is for Attitude.

We've all had the experience of being bullied, right? Well for me that period of life was 4-6th grade. My maiden name is Hicken, and my first initial "C". Can you imagine how much of a hay-day kids had with that? People constantly taunted me with the insult--even some of the nice kids. There were even pledges to the rubber chicken in honor of humiliating me! Looking back on it, I know they were just being kids and following the pack, but at the time it was the only reality. I was a freak. --And I hadn't done anything to deserve it.

But then a strange thing happened: I moved on to middle school. I knew I couldn't leave my name behind, that people would connect the dots no matter what, so I changed my attitude. "Chicken" became a cool thing. Oh yes, people snickered when they first heard it, but when I introduced myself that way with a grin and outgoing warmth, what could they do? By High School, "Chicken!" was a greeting that echoed down the halls after me. It had come to represent the opposite of its demeaning roots. It was my title. It was my prize.

True happiness comes from taking the bad and seeing the good in it. If "chicken" can become a badge of honor, what can you do with your dark moments?

AND a quick thank you to Arlee Bird for pulling this awesome challenge together!

The Death of the Dream

The neck is stretched out, vulnerable and bare.

Chop.

And there you have it, the headless chicken.

Have you ever had a secret dream? One you wanted so bad you'd move the earth to have it? Since I was 6 years old, I've known what I wanted to do.

Grandpa said I could talk anyone's ear off as a toddler--I just had so much to say. I quieted down when I started drawing horses at 3, then unicorns, then cartoon characters. Pictures consisted of multiple layers or stories, characters doing things in the background that contributed to the overall development of a plot--and I was in heaven.

At six, I finally could apply words. My first book was "The Elephant Father's Day Surprise", illustrated and written by a steady-handed seven year old. Story dreams filled my nights, and their preservation led to my first non-illustrated (and handwritten) ten-page story at ten years old.

Writing through elementary school allowed me to escape from from 1. my older brother, whose life mission it seemed was to make my existence, well, not so happy, 2. the ostracization from my peers because I happened to have a funny name (C.Hicken--literally), and 3. the girls at church who turned their noses up because I was in a younger school grade. Writing enabled me to vent, emotionally.

At twelve I completed my first hundred page novella, and my plan for life. I would become a writer, published by the grand old age of sixteen--a career I could easily manage around my expectations of being a wife and mother one day. I smile now to think back on that.

The one thing that is inevitable in life: change.

We moved to a new neighborhood. I stepped into a new school with the chance to be whoever I wanted. (Chicken became cool, by the way.) We were attending a different congregation where I was not only accepted, but welcomed with open arms. My brother finally realized that I loved him, despite it all. Life was no longer one cloudy storm after another. I could see the sun, and it illuminated the world with new-found understanding.

People are what really matter.

At 14 I made a firm decision to quit writing. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I did it to become a better person.

I've often wondered who I'd be if I hadn't quit. Where would I be now? I know myself. Once I set a goal, let heaven and hell get out of the way. It's going to happen. I would have researched, attended conferences, met agents, completed a writing program in college, entered every writing contest and won myself a place on the shelves.

But at what cost?

When this life is over I won't look back and say, "Man, I'm sure glad I had a successful career." I'll see the faces of my children, my husband, close friends, relatives and others, and I'll think, "What an amazing life I lived."

So back to that dream. Is it okay to let it die? Ten years ago I completed my first full-length novel. Nine years back I got my first rejection and finished my second novel. Eight years ago I wrote a musical and expanded to orchestral composition. Seven years ago I moved to New York City, met my first literary agent, discovered the joy of editing, wrote another novel, and turned my back on the idea of public school. (I mean, it was NYC. Can you blame me?) Six years ago I put it on hold to raise two babies and home school my oldest (while writing book 5 for fun). Five years back I started a blog--simply to share my writing with family and friends on the other side of the country. Four years ago I finished book 6.

People tell me I'm a great writer. People say they love my stories. Those people aren't agents or publishers.

AND THAT'S OKAY.

The last rejection jarred my eyes wide open, and so I am on the verge of killing the dream--the one that got me through some of the hardest years of my life, the one that has always been my distant star and great hope. Maybe I don't need to be published by someone else. Maybe I don't need an agent to validate my talent. Maybe I should give in to my hubby who keeps begging to let him publish me.

Maybe.

Why do you write? --or do whatever you do? And what is your life-long dream?