Once again, my stats don’t make sense.
In this screenshot, the first story has 3 views and 3 fans with no reads. So, they clapped without reading? Why would anybody do that?
They probably didn’t. It’s more likely that my reads aren’t being counted.
The second story shows the same problem. It has 3 views, 2 reads, and 3 fans. Again, unlikely.
I read an interesting article today by an editor of a large Medium publication.
She said every self-improvement topic has been written about, so throw your list away. She said they didn’t even consider articles that didn’t have a unique hook. So, that’s the key to getting in that publication—clickbait.
I appreciate the candor, but I have no desire to pen stories like:
Shh…Don’t steal my ideas.
My birthday last year will be the last one spent with my mother. Last Thanksgiving was the last time she will ever be in my house. My last memory of her in her house will be of her hallucinating.
And I’m losing her a little each day.
These thoughts blindsided me a few hours ago and I’ve been crying ever since. My mind has been going through all the “last times.” I can’t stop thinking about how unbelievable the past seven months have been.
Writing is therapeutic for me, even if nobody reads what I write. Hey, why should things…
I woke up at 4 am this morning with a panic attack. I’ve been under so much stress lately that I haven’t slept well. Instead, I’ve tossed and turned, having vague nightmares wake me many times each night.
I need my friends and church to be there for me. What I’ve gotten from them instead is the patronizing phrase, “I’ll pray for you.”
Well, isn’t that special. You’ll pray for me. I’m sure that will help loads.
If I sound angry, it’s because I am. I’ve had it with the bullshit Christian platitudes. And I am a Christian!
EMS took my mother to the hospital again last night.
There seems to be some confusion about whether she fell or sat down on the floor. The facility told me she was fine and they were calling EMS to help get her up and back to the room.
They sent her right back to the hospital for the second night in a row! They didn’t want to deal with her, but they lied and said it was EMS’s call.
Lest you think I am uncaring—she was fine. I knew she was fine, and so did they. The hospital…
I used to have a big problem with people-pleasing. I would go to great lengths to try and make people like me and fret when I wasn’t included.
I couldn’t understand what I was doing wrong.
Imagine my surprise to learn that I was the one excluding myself. It’s true. I was so wrapped up in what other people thought that I was projecting my insecurity. Who wants to be around that?
Would you like to know how to feel happy and included?
It’s that simple. You hold the keys to your own happiness. …
I am at my breaking point. No, this isn’t a title to generate reads.
I’m so stressed that I want to crawl into a hole and never come back out. I can’t take much more.
I had another call about my mom last night. She was so delusional that they had to call EMS to take her to the hospital. They wanted to make sure she didn’t have an infection that was causing the sudden behavior change.
I met the ambulance at the hospital, but they told me I had to wait outside or in my car. With severe storms…
I love writing inspirational and self-improvement pieces. I’m all for encouraging and challenging people. But you also have to be authentic.
Most of us are working as hard as we can. Harder.
Last year we all realized how tired we are of working so hard to succeed. And let me be clear—my definition of success is an average life where I can pay my bills and afford health insurance. Not a big ask, right?
So, a post from a motivational speaker that popped up in my Facebook feed this morning pissed me off. …
Last night at 10 pm I got a phone call from my mother’s assisted living facility. As I answered the phone, my heart sank.
“Yes. What’s wrong?”
“Your mother is in the dining room holding two forks and saying she’s going to stab someone. We have been trying to give her some Ativan to calm her down, but she won’t take it.”
They called back in half an hour and tried to get her to talk to me.
She refused. I could hear her in the background, screaming “Get out of here! Get out of here!”