Under Pressure

I think I’ve finally snapped. Hallelujah. It took me long enough.

I feel crazy but it’s a good crazy.

Don’t worry, I haven’t decided to change my name, dye my hair a different color and go around skewering people alive like Vlad Tepes. Although there are a few people to whom I’d love to cause pain like the pain they’ve caused me and the ones I love.

But that wouldn’t be right and I know it. I’ll let karma deal with them.


You know that fire?

The one that ignites somewhere deep inside you when you’ve finally reached your breaking point? And then you somehow pick up all the little pieces of you and say, “Enough.”

But that’s not it, that’s just being ignited.

From then on, there’s something stirring inside you. Something you can tap into and use. Something heated, something burning. It’s fire.

It’s you.

It’s you fed up.

In the movies, you get music and everyone is around that is important to you. What you do right then saves the day and cements into bone, who you are, and everyone knows it.

Movies aren’t real life. No one can see me. I’ve been struggling, over and over again hoping for something to come along and fix things. A reprieve, something other than worry and stress and fighting. But what on earth is that all about?

The pressure isn’t going to go away. Not for a long time. It’s not going to suddenly get better. Karma isn’t going to start working my way and repaying me until I figure out for myself just who I am. And what I’m going to do.

That fire – it’s me deciding for myself.



I know how to work under pressure. I know how to breathe under pressure.

Not to exist – but to live. To be me. Not to struggle against the chains binding me; but to calm myself, have patience, and slyly slink loose when the time is right. It won’t be soon, I know that much.

I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. And tomorrow could be a very scary day for me. I don’t know what’s going to happen next week. Next year. I don’t know where I’ll be this time in two years.

And I don’t bloody care.

I’ve had enough.

I’m going to live right now. Do what I can right now.

I’m not saying be reckless and abandon all planning and forethought and responsibility. That’s not it at all. I’m not saying I’m going to stop thinking about what I want and where I want to go. That’s the exact opposite of what I’m going to stop doing. In fact, that’s what I’m going to start doing. Every day. Starting with the little things.

I’m going to take it day by day with certain things. With me. With my writing. All my stresses and apprehensions and all my caring what others think – I’m going to throw it all away in the areas I can and take it day by day.

I’m a sporadic mess but I have it all together. I’m all over the place and fickle but I know what I want. Starting right now, I’m not going to question myself any longer. No more second guessing myself.

And that fire? It’s going to be my compass.


There is no defining moment. You have to break free of your own accord.



I’ve decided to put aside WIP #2 for now. I will finish plotting, character building, world and species building WIP#1 and begin writing it. Then, and only then, will I begin to plot, character, world, and species build WIP #2.

But this time is going to be different. I don’t like making mistakes but everyone knows everyone has to make them. And I’m glad I made mine early. I’m not going to have to make them again to learn the lesson.

*So, I promise myself, the crazy people who exist in my head, and the future readers of my novels, that I will remember this:

If I am to truly write I must honestly open up a vein and bleed. I must pour out my soul, let it thrive in my writing. Some people are messed up. Some are oblivious. Brutal things happen every day. I will not tread lightly with this. I cannot honestly portray my happiness if I do not honestly portray the darkness inside of me as well.

From now on I must promise myself to write as I always should have. Start now. Have no regrets when I’m published and holding my book. I cannot help others or inspire others with my writing if I cannot accept myself and write the real story.




The title of this post should have been: I Finally Found My Damn Voice!

It’s what’s been screaming inside me, burning, what I think, what I feel. It’s who I am.

Actually, that’s partially incorrect with the timing. Apparently my voice been found for a while; I just didn’t realize it until just now. Stupid lost and found didn’t get around to notarizing me; the sections of my brain can be kind of slow sometimes.

So no more, ooey gooey, soppy, I don’t know what to blog about because I’m a big mess of ‘I dunno’.

Nope. Now you’re stuck with me.



blog: an online journal. You want me? You’re going to get me. I’m just not so sure where any of us will end up.

If you insist on NOT keeping all hands and arms inside the vehicle (blog), I might just write your gory corpse into one of my books.


Did you/ do you struggle to find your voice – writing or otherwise?



Filed under Stream of Consciousness

10 responses to “Under Pressure

  1. Pingback: Work in Progress Challenge Part Three. Yep… Still being honest | Jennifer M Eaton

  2. I had a defining moment. It was when I broke free of my own accord and occurred on April 15, 1993.

  3. Hollin Scott

    Wow this is awesome!

    “Did you/ do you struggle to find your voice – writing or otherwise?”
    It definitely took a long time to find it. Probably about two years of writing (mostly for fun & practice) before I became comfortable with the voice that emerged.

    It’s cool that you’ve found your voice. Once you know that you’ve found it, expression becomes easier, or better, or at least more true to oneself. And it can spill over into other areas of life. At least, that’s been my experience!

  4. bwtaylor75

    There isn’t a writer alive who hasn’t struggled to find their voice. You know what? You’re probably a little more normal than you thought. This is what most writers call their “A-ha!” moment, where the clouds part and they see things more clearly.

    One word of advice though, if you don’t mind. Going to the dark side may be necessary, but don’t get lost over there. Telling those grisly, twisted, and bizarre things in your stories is part of the process. Just come back toward the light. It can be hard to write from a twisted character’s POV, or easy in some cases, but remember you aren’t them. We all have a darkness inside. Make it work for you and your stories, not the other way around. Not saying you would, just trying to look out for you.

    “I cannot honestly portray my happiness if I do not honestly portray the darkness inside of me as well.” I’m with you on this and most readers will recognize if you hold back. If you need anything, don’t be afraid to reach out. I get the feeling you came from darkness, hence the moniker Shadows. I too have experienced many shades of darkness. While we’ll never quite know what the other has been through, know I’ve lived through my darkness and support you. Sometimes it’s good to know you have a friend out there, even if we’ve never met in real life. And I do consider you a friend. Call, and I’ll be there. In writing, in life, or anything else you may need. Sorry for the long response, guess your words fanned the fire a bit. 😉

    • Oh don’t worry, I’m all about balance. My problem was trying to overpower with the happiness and ignore the darkness. I realized that I just can’t do that. No point in hiding.

      Thank you Brian.

      Oh – and don’t worry about long responses. I don’t mind them one bit.

  5. Wow – Daphne, you have been having a very rough time! 😦

    The fire inside is burning away the superfluous – which is a good thing. I’m glad you’ve found your voice and regardless of that voice, it is yours and yours to be proud of. I remember feeling the same way a few years back and I sat down and wrote the words: “I hate this place because there is no escape. Sometimes the demon in my chest expands, trying to fight its way out through my heart and my throat and my stomach. On windy days I cling to the wire fence and look out over the cemetery. I watch flowers blow from the graves and wash over the highway. Crushed by an army of tyres.”
    I wasn’t in a happy place, but (when I calmed down) I used these words to write a short story ‘Corrugated Dreaming’. This story actually kick-started my writing career because it ended up winning a major writing award and landing me a place with the publisher Harper Collins.

    Believe it or not – no matter how bad things have been, they are honing you into the person you will be. I often find my writing is at its most powerful when I’m furious or depressed.

    I love your work – use every emotion you possibly can in your writing and slam the world with your words!

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