Author: Angel Beldam

Some of you may have noticed that the last couple of days have been really hard. I’ve been feeling lots of fear and anxiety and I’ve sort of been wallowing in it.

But this morning when I woke up I had a bit of an epiphany. It’s not my feelings I have been wallowing in. I have been internalizing the fear and anxiety of my mom and my nibbling. They are both going through significant stuff right now.

Acknowledging that in writing just now and taking a couple of deep breaths, I feel lighter already. What a relief or is it release? Both, in this case I should think.

Don’t get me wrong, I have my own fears and anxiety but the weight of what I was feeling has so heavy that I should have realized it was not all mine. I’m not sure why it took me so long to process it but I’m really glad I finally did because it was literally paralyzing me, preventing me from taking care of many of the things on my to do list which in turn caused more anxiety.

Obviously, since this procrastination thing is a problem anyway, adding someone else’s angst to my own is a recipe for disaster. I now have less than 48 hours before I’m going to be on jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again. Just kidding. Those lyrics just popped into my head, and it made me giggle. I really am feeling so much lighter and even though I have so few hours left to get everything done, it no longer feels so daunting or oppressive.

I had a friend tell me once she thought I was an empath and I think she might be right. I think I need to explore this idea in light of what has just happened. I can’t be internalizing the negative feelings of others. I have enough of my own baggage weighing me down. But for now I ‘m delighted to let go of that weight and just go take care of business.

It’s going to be a busy couple days.

Be well my friends.

Woke up this morning feeling a little panicky. My anxiety is overwhelming my excitement about my upcoming trip. And I am excited. I can’t wait to see Tennessee, hug her, hold her hand, kiss her, and all the NFSW things that I won’t post here.

But I have to survive the next couple days first.

I’ve made it sound like it’s a fight to the death rather than just tackling my to do list. I created said to do list last week and haven’t done hardly anything on it. In fact, I haven’t even looked at it in days. Now with only three days left until I fly out I’m panicking because that list is daunting, and I already know I will have to prioritize some things off the list because I just won’t have time.

Why do I do this to myself?

Because I do this every single time. I know this about myself and still, every single time.

In my own defense, I have been doing a lot of writing, much of it in preparation for not writing much next week and it has taken more time than I had planned. That doesn’t change the fact that I still have a ton to do before I go. So a short blog today and I’ll ask your indulgence on what are likely to be short posts for the next couple days and may likely be filled with chaos in my frantic attempt to deal with the consequences of my procrastination.

Don’t be like me – be well my friends.

Some mornings I look at the blank page and my mind is blank too. I have no idea what to write about. This morning I have so many different things floating through my mind, all of them demanding attention, that I still don’t know what to write about.

Do I tell you about my son who is finally in a good place in his life? Or about my nibbling whose marriage is falling apart and whose safety I am really worried about?

Do I tell you about all the preparations mom and I are doing for her surgery and how guilty I feel about how much I’m dreading it?

Do I share how excited I am about going to see Tennessee in four days and how these last ten days since I saw her last feel like months?

My last few posts have been very political so should I avoid that or tell you about the interview of Pink I watched where she says that people tell her to stay out of politics and she says she can’t because she has a vagina so she’s walking politics and how strongly that resonated with me?

Or maybe that I saw photos on Instagram of my friends out on a date and how incredibly happy I am for them?

Or that I have 654 days to retirement and how I’m worried about not being able to actually retire on that date because of the huge hit my TSP took last year due to the pandemic and residual economic effects of the prior administration’s idiocy?

I could have written about a daily prompt which asked what three objects can’t you live without and how my first thought was my coffee pot when it should’ve been my CPAP? And how much I hate being on a CPAP and all the other things that remind me I have not taken very good care of my body and that now the reckoning is happening?

Maybe I could talk about how editing Chapter 14 of my novel is proving to feel like a Herculean task? That I can’t seem to even want to start because well I don’t know why? Or that I can’t fix later chapters until I figure out how to fix this one? And also, when will be the right time to seek out beta readers and how exactly do I go about doing that?

I frequently experience this constant bombardment but usually I’m better at stilling my mind. I’m not really sure why I’m struggling today. Could just be because its Tuesday.

Oh it’s Tuesday! Trivia tonight with my friends. Excellent.

When I get up in the mornings and I’m not sure what I want to write about I check a number of sources that have daily prompts. One of today’s prompts was ‘Are you patriotic? What does that mean to you?’

In the light of the rant I went on yesterday, I figured this would be an easy follow up.

The word patriot is filled with all sorts of connotations, many of them negative in the current political climate. Right now it sometimes feels like a patriot is one of those deplorable idiots that stormed the Capitol on January 6, 2021. Like you’re either woke or a patriot. That you can’t be both.

It’s disgusting and disheartening.

I served on active duty during the first Gulf War and through much of the 1990’s. After a brief time away, I went back to work as a public servant and have been doing so for more than 25 years.

My duties have varied throughout the years, but I have never once forgotten that I serve the public. All of it. Every single individual who lives in this country, legal or otherwise, as well as those who are citizens that live abroad.

I don’t just serve citizens or white folx or cis-het folx or any one group over another, regardless of how many politicians try to say otherwise.

I am not a nationalist who thinks our country is better than others. I am not an unthinking, unquestioning loyalist to some demagogue or to a single party. Nor am I blind to the reality of what our system and government are actually like.

I know that our system is inherently flawed. Some agencies are merely skewed to help some more than others, while there are others with bold and blatant rules and laws that specifically enable the rich.

No matter what I intend or how I want to see my job as it should be, I know it doesn’t mean much most of the time, but I do it with as much integrity as I have in my soul.

Despite how naïve this may sound, I really do believe that this country could be a safe place where everyone is welcome. That this really could be true someday. It’s part of the reason why I continue to serve, why I vote, why I financially support those groups fighting those that would oppress others, why I use my privilege to speak out and live my life as authentically as I can.

I believe that the ideal of being free to be who we really are is a worthy one and this is what makes me patriotic.

“For evil to flourish, it only requires good {humans} to do nothing.” Simon Wiesenthal. (I fixed it.)

Tennessee, Iowa, Florida, Idaho, Utah, Texas. WTF?

Indignation, outrage, revulsion, dismay, disgust, shock.

How is this getting so out of hand? It’s so bad that 200 Human Rights groups around the world are calling on the United Nations to intervene. The growing number of human rights violations occurring in the United States is alarming. The comparisons to 1930s Germany scares the bejezus out of me. The complacency of the vast majority of Americans is worse.

Why doesn’t somebody do something?

Oh, wait. I am somebody.

Is everyone else asking the same question and waiting for me to do something? That really is scary. What on Earth can I do?

I financially support various organizations that are trying to fight, like the Human Rights Campaign. I’ve even participated in phone campaigns to contact voters to reach out to their politicians.

I repost videos and messages about what’s happening elsewhere. But my platform is tiny, and my friends and “followers” are already aware of the atrocities that are happening, and I suspect they feel as helpless as I do. I hope that’s the case anyway. I’d  hate to think that there’s anyone in my circle that isn’t paying attention or doesn’t care.

I keep reading and listening to these well-meaning people who are sharing their concerns and raising the alarm, inciting people to be truly woke, to not be complacent. But I don’t hear many solutions.

Vote. Yeah, ok, I already do that, but I live in a blue state. All my vote does is keep the ick at bay in Colorado. How does that help?

This is not my first blog about this nor is it likely to be my last. But I had to say something again because I just saw that Florida is trying to pass a law that would require bloggers who write about public officials to have to register as lobbyists. So if I lived in Florida and I said DeSantis is a fascist pig I’d be forced to register and risk fines of up to $2500 per post. Are you kidding me? And again I ask, how can I do anything about that?

So many people I know say they can’t or don’t watch the news because it’s not good for their mental health. I get that. Staying on high alert and in fight or flight mode over the things that are happening is not good for anyone’s mental health. But if we’re all doing it, then no one is doing anything to stop the atrocities from happening and spreading.

I still don’t have answers, but I do feel a wee bit less helpless after writing this. Even if I am just preaching to the choir or shouting into the void at least I’ve said something.

I really like Saturday mornings. Even if my body wakes me up at my normal time I can lie there and be completely lazy. Defiantly so, because I hate that I still feel guilty when I’m not being “productive”. Damn capitalistic patriarchy! I’m a grown ass woman dammit.

A grown ass woman who lives with her mother, a woman who does not ever sit still on Saturday mornings. At least not for long.

I had to establish a boundary when I first moved in. I do not do anything before my first cup of coffee, not even speak. For the most part she has complied with this boundary.

However, this morning I made the mistake of saying more words after good morning when I was making my cuppa. It’s as if she was just waiting for the extra words to start because she didn’t even let me finish my sentence before she launched into a whole bunch of words that I think I got most of.

She had been waiting for me to get up because she has so much to do, and she didn’t get to do any of her normal Friday tasks because she had to work and now she has to do them all today and she needs my help to move this and do that. I’m exhausted and I haven’t even finished my second cup of coffee.

I’m really, really glad I took that extra time to surf and scroll this morning before getting out of bed. Also, I’m very grateful Tennessee is a night owl.

Truth be told I am a bit envious of my mother’s energy and drive to clean. Despite the part of it coming from being programmed to always be industrious, I love how easily she still does so many practical things. Makes me believe she’ll be around for a long time and I’m grateful for that.

I mean who’s going to clean my bathroom and put things away so I can’t find them in my room when I’m gone for a week? At least she asks permission first now. I often wonder if she would respect my saying no. I’m tempted to say please don’t go in my room next week while I’m gone and then leave interesting  toys out to see what happens.

But I won’t. Not this time anyway. You see one of the reasons my mother cleans is to deal with her anxiety. And right now she is very anxious about her foot surgery on the 21st. She will not be able to walk or put any weight on her foot. She will be forced to be still for weeks.

So this weekend is only the beginning. While I’m away she will be taking time off work and there will be no space in this house that will go untouched. She will have to use my bathroom post-surgery so denying her access to my room while I’m away would be cruel. So I’ll make sure all items that might make mom uncomfortable will be safely put away and I’ll do my best to minimize my messiness this week to help keep her anxiety at bay.

I need another cup of coffee…maybe with a shot of whiskey.

Be well my friends.

Not long ago I met with my monthly writing accountability friend and an artist friend of hers. The reason for the meetup was to discuss the possibility of the artist creating the front cover for my novel.

Every time I take another step toward this dream of being a published novelist I get very excited, and this meeting was no exception. I got to tell her all about the book and we discussed some possibilities. She was enthusiastic about reading it so she could solidify what the cover might look like. Just one more motivation to get this third draft completed.

The artist is, of course, so much more than that and it was a true pleasure to get to know a little bit about her. Prior to the meeting my friend had asked me to bring my tarot cards and we did a reading for the artist about her professional and creative future. As with most readings I’ve been a part of, the cards pulled really resonated with her. It was fun and satisfying to see when things clicked for her.

It also got me thinking about my future creative pursuits. I love writing this blog, but I realize that it is somewhat limiting. Granted I write about more than dating and finding my way in these wonderful new queer spaces, but I’m wondering if this is the best place for me to explore my new alter ego, Angel.

I’m not making any decisions right now, but I have much to think about and I apologize if things start to feel disconnected and scattered while I figure out where to go next. Thank you for supporting me so far and I hope you’ll stick around.

There is something very eerie about waking up to a complete lack of noise. I’m not sure if was the absence of sound or air in my CPAP that woke me just after 3 a.m. I knew immediately something was wrong though it took a few moments tor my brain to recognize what it was.

We don’t often have power outages here and they rarely last long. This one was no exception lasting 20 minutes, maybe less. But it was long enough for me to realize that (a) I would not be going back to sleep and (b) my mom and I are totally unprepared.

Because of my altar, I at least had candles and a lighter, but the emergency flashlight above the dryer had dead batteries. I knew I had a crank flashlight somewhere but could not remember where it was. I did eventually find it on a shelf in my office.

I often scoff at how extreme preppers are, but I realize that they aren’t completely wrong. I have no intention of preparing for Armageddon. I’m not sure I want to survive that level of disaster. But I should, at a minimum, be prepared for a blizzard shutting down the power for several days. It’s something I keep meaning to do, but never quite get around to doing.

That’s sort of my M. O. I have great ideas and I’m even good at starting things but following through to completion is where I struggle. My mom is better at the follow through and I wouldn’t be surprised if when she gets home from work this afternoon she will have the AA and D batteries we are missing, some bottled water, and maybe a few more candles.

I know there are plenty of websites that have sound advice for sensible preparations, so why do I continue to drag my feet? Because there are so many other things I’d rather be doing than preparing for the end of the world. Like reading books about the end of the world or editing my post apocalypse novel or writing a new one. To be honest I’d rather be doing just about anything else.

I wonder if there’s someone I can pay to come do my disaster prep. Oops my privilege is showing again. But seriously is that a thing? I’ll have to do some research which will be way more fun than actually doing the prep work. If it’s not already being done, that would be a great money maker I would think. If this writing gig doesn’t work out for me, maybe I’ll look into it.

Stay safe out there my friends.

It’s the first day of Women’s History month. There are so many amazing women to celebrate, it could be hard to know where to start. Since one of my book clubs is reading “Her Hidden Genius” by Marie Benedict, I’ll start there.

Marie Benedict writes historical fiction, officially. The subjects of her books, however, are real women whose accomplishments were overlooked or stolen by men. They are fictionalized biographies that hold more fact than fiction.

“Her Hidden Genius” is the story of Rosalind Franklin whose ground-breaking work on the discovery of DNA’s double helix went unacknowledged for decades. It is fascinating and heart-breaking.

The first book by Marie Benedict that I read was titled “The Only Woman in the Room”. It is about Hedy Lamarr, the Hollywood actress whose scientific brilliance and first-hand knowledge of Nazi secrets helped the US win World War II.

I have since read all of her books except the most recent, “The Mitford Affair”, which I have on an 8 week hold at the library. Her other books in the series are “Carnegie’s Maid”, “The Other Einstein”, “The Mystery of Mrs. Christie”, “Lady Clementine”, and “The Personal Librarian”.

Every book is so well written you will think the author had personal knowledge of these remarkable women’s lives and will not be able to tell what parts are fictionalized. If you’re interested in reading one of her books but don’t have time for all of them or don’t know where to start, I highly recommend you start with “the Personal Librarian.”

It is the story of Belle da Costa Greene, JP Morgan’s personal librarian, a black woman who passed as white and whose legacy, the public library, I am eternally grateful for.  Benedict cowrote this book with Victoria Christopher Murray to help ensure the black experience was authentically written.

No matter which one you start with I can pretty much guarantee you’ll be ready to get the next one as soon as your finished with the last. Happy reading my friends.

I swear my intention was to write a fully positive, uplifting, and inspiring blog this morning.

My dentist proclaimed me cavity free, spent quality time with my mom, and went to bed at a decent hour. All signs today was going to be going to be a good day right?

To be fair it still might end up being a good day, but it’s starting out a little rocky. I’ve been awake since 4 am. Not sure what woke me, probably the dog reacting to mom leaving for work, though I usually don’t hear any of that.

I might have been able to go back to sleep, but when I checked my phone to see what time it was I saw the covid exposure notification. No going back to sleep after that bit of adrenaline spike. Sometime over the weekend I was apparently near someone who has tested positive for covid. I’m fully vaccinated so I’m not too worried about getting sick, but now I’m having to notify those I’ve been in contact with since that I was exposed.

More importantly, it means I have to miss trivia tonight! I look forward to Tuesday nights and I am really bummed I can’t go.

There is one good thing about this morning at least. Since I’m up so early, I’m able to sign on to my sapphic author writing group’s morning sprints. I love writing with these folx. The gab sessions between sprints are fun and entertaining and sometimes I even learn things about the publishing process–usually the things to avoid by way of a rant.  

My office window faces east, and I am able to see dawn approaching. There don’t appear to be many clouds in the sky so I’m not sure how spectacular the sunrise will be, but I’m appreciating the miracle of a new day nonetheless.

Turns out this might be a good day after all. Be well by friends.