Gasps for Breath.

Pain of life one leads,
Does not wither but exceeds.
Given winds of change,
My mind turns and twists, derange.

Torn ‘tween will and want,
What is it I can’t, I don’t?
  Cowed by maddened, dim lit eyes,
Failure I despise.

I yearn arms embrace,
But fate voids every trace.
Feelings remain deep,
I spurn my foe, night thief sleep.
To the sun promise may rise,
Reason for these tear filled eyes.

~*~

My love is a lump,
A cause for heart’s gasps for breath,
Consumes all my thoughts.

Heart's Gasps by Ronovan Hester


Hello everyone. Today I’m introducing something I believe is new. A normal poem followed by a Haiku that sums up the poem. I am calling this a Freku at this time. Write a normal poem, if you wish, followed by a Haiku that sums up the poem. Free verse plus Haiku equals Freku.

Can you take a poem and then sum it up in three lines of Haiku? Or perhaps the other way around? Look for an article (NEW FORM of Haiku & Poetry) coming soon to explain in more detail but I think this section covers it.

For mine I attempted a 5-7-5-7 for the first stanza, repeat for the next two, but at the end I include two more 7-7. And to wrap it all up I created a Haiku that sums up the poem.

I wrote a normal poem first then worked it down to the 5-7-5-7 patterns. That was as a challenge to myself.



Ronovan Hester is an author, with his debut historical adventure novel Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling due out in December of 2015. He shares his life as an amnesiac and Chronic Pain sufferer through his blog RonovanWrites.WordPress.com. His love of poetry, authors and community through his online world has lead to a growing Weekly Haiku Challenge and the creation of a site dedicated to book reviews, interviews and author resources known as LitWorldInterviews.com.

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@RonovanWrites

 © Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com 2015

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Perseverance-Or is it love?

Thomas Carlyle
Thomas Carlyle

“Permanence, perseverance and persistence in spite of all obstacles, discouragements, and impossibilities: It is this, that in all things distinguishes the strong soul from the weak.”-Thomas Carlyle

I’ve moved away from talking about my health issues in the specifics in recent months. I felt as though my health was becoming me. And honestly I thought I had talked it to death. Well, I wish we could talk our ailments to death. If that were the case I would have been healthy a long time ago. But anyway, I wanted to be more positive in my writing I shared. However, at times I realize one should open up and share to let others know what can be done. Things don’t  HAVE to stop you.

I’ve never given much thought to perseverance as a word to describe myself. It’s been said by others but I’ve always put it off as a kind thing to say. I don’t mean to say they were being dishonest and lying just to make me feel better by saying it, but being kind in how they viewed my situation.

Many don’t know what Fibromyalgia is, but it’s a health situation that umbrellas a great many things including Chronic Pain and Chronic Fatigue. Much more goes in to it than that, but those two cane be easily identifiable with. Combine that with Osteoarthritis throughout the spine, including the neck, herniated discs in the spine and neck, and various other ailments, life can be such a joy at times.

But then you add the concussion I suffered two years ago, a Grade 3 Concussion that led to Retrograde Amnesia, short term memory loss, migraines that never cease, yes I mean I have migraines 24/7, sound and light sensitivity, and something else I can’t remember, and you end up with a very interesting life situation.

I know of the concussion because it is a habit to know now. A journal I kept around that time, barely legible as I was writing with either hand depending on the moment, tells me what was going on. I’ve slowly begun to let it go, the specifics of things, I’m not a dweller. I’ve truly decided to move on and not allow man made guilt hold me back from enjoying life.

Why tell all of this?

I have a book tentatively set to come out in December. A second book in the final draft stage before proofing and editing, that will then be shopped around to agents/publishers. I have a fairly successful blog, a group of online friends, and much more.

No, I don’t remember my family. I remember my son. I make an effort to remember history of my life as I am told in order to fit in, or at least act as though I am normal enough in my son’s eyes so he an have a normal father. I don’t wear my sunglasses like I should, nor my earplugs to avoid looking like an oddity around him. Seeing me put into an ambulance and then following it, only to see it disappear was upsetting enough for him not to have to be reminded of it every time he looks at me.

With the very odd life I have, I still push forward. I never gave it thought as being perseverance. I wanted to write a book and have my son something in the world to say, “My Daddy did that.”

People write a book for a lot of reasons. Yes, I love writing, but I mainly want something left behind for my son to be able to hold up and always look to. I want to be able to contribute to his life in many ways.

Maybe what I’m talking about isn’t perseverance. Maybe it’s simply being a father. Maybe it’s love. Whatever it is, it has brought me this far, and I intend to keep going.

I still have to write that book he helped come up with.

Thomas Carlyle Quote Perseverance

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Check the comments for other #BeWoW posts and SilverThreading.com for more Writer’s Quote Wednesday offerings.

Ron_LWIRonovan is an author, and blogger who shares his life as an amnesiac and Chronic Pain sufferer through his blog RonovanWrites.WordPress.com. His love of poetry, authors and community through his online world has lead to a growing Weekly Haiku Challenge and the creation of a site dedicated to book reviews, interviews and author resources known as LitWorldInterviews.WordPress.com.

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@RonovanWrites

 © Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com 2015

Blogging Mental Health: Phobias, Disorders, Anxieties

Phobias, Disorders, Anxieties. You know we all have one of these. And actually the labels can often be interchangeable so don’t judge a phobia by its disorder, you’ll just cause anxiety.

I am very prolific in my blogging. I write an article or poem a day except on Saturdays, and sometimes even then. So it seems that I have a problem that people don’t understand. It’s become worse over time since I began blogging.

And when I mention it, well the subject, people’s responses just make it worse because they don’t get it. It goes back to my concussion a couple of years ago.

Before that I was a very engaging person. Never met a stranger. Could have a conversation with anyone. But since then, and the retrograde amnesia, things changed. You know I kind of get afraid of things. And I became so isolated because of not only the amnesia but the light and sound sensitivity, and the migraines, that people actually became a problem.

I am now at the point I don’t go to stores any longer. I very rarely step outside the house at all. I’m okay with the no people in person thing though. I mean, I like being alone now.

My communicating with the world is through my articles. And unless you are a super close person to me, I don’t even talk in emails.

That brings me to the problem. And it’s kind of sad I even have to mention it, but I’m going to anyway so people will understand people like me, and not judge us.

When people comment on blogs, well some of them almost demand a response. I have a fear or responding. Don’t ask me why or what it is, but if you ever see a response it has taken a lot for me to get up to the point to do it. I have almost been to the point of removing the comment option from the blog. But people have met through my comments and helped each other.

I’ve mentioned comments before in articles and the responses have made it worse. People pride themselves in responding to every comment on their blogs. They brag about it in the comments. Some actually do genuine responses, but there are also those who do fake responses. If you’ve been blogging long enough you know what I mean. I personally am not going to do fake responses just to make my blog grow. That’s not me.

When I first began blogging I was able to make myself respond, but things have gotten worse as time has passed. I want people to know they can blog however they like and grow a blog. It’s your content that matters. If you have something people find worthwhile, that’s all that matters.

Don’t let other bloggers who say you must respond to every comment in order to be a good blogger, a successful blogger, force you to do anything. If you are like me and feel physically ill sometimes at the idea of having to respond to a comment, learn to not worry about it. I do it at times because a comment really requires a response, or I am having a good moment.

Is it a Social Anxiety issue? Maybe. Is it some kind of phobia about people? Maybe. Sounds like they are both the same to me.

If you read my blog and you comment and I don’t respond, don’t take it as I am not reading your comment or that I am not appreciating it. Sometimes I will click like on the comments to show I read them and appreciate them. Some people are Blog Nazis and don’t think that’s good enough. Whatever.

I’m good with what I can do. You be good with what you can do. Don’t judge. This is my outlet. This is how I talk to the world. And this is the last time I am going to talk about comments on this blog. I’m tired of it. Almost as tired as I am of people complaining about me not replying to comments.

Much Love, Success, and Respect
Ronovan

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© Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com 2015

Losing it. What do I do?

There’s a saying that goes something like, “You don’t know what you got till it’s gone.” For about two years I’ve kind of laughed at that phrase. For some of us, when something is gone we don’t even know what it was which means we don’t miss it.

I’ve been fine with it. I go through each day with a new loss flittering away and I feel fine. That’s because I don’t know what flitters away. Okay, so I know something is likely being lost. I’m aware that memories are lost.

Normally I don’t stress about it because stressing leads to other problems. Recently a memory loss, a huge one, became evident—with vigor.

I’ll explain an “other” problem for a moment. Depression. Well, I don’t know that it really needs to be explained. We all know what depression is. When a memory goes away and I then have people forcing that memory back in my head, or trying to get it back in there, things happen. The brain snaps. I actually at some point feel a pop in my head. I am sure it’s not really anything physical, only a psychological representation of what is happening.

When that happens, Ronovan is gone for a time.

My huge memory loss recently led to such a situation. I would think things were going fine, then wham, another hit from a different side. Lulled into things being okay. Wham, another hit. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.

Now, here I am, depressed, physically ill, and looking for the learning lesson of it all.

Memory problems make for a bad emotional entity. They also make for a bad relationship of any type. You wake up and you don’t know if that person who is your friend, spouse, significant other, father figure is still going to be that for you.

Who is it fair to in that situation? As I’ve been writing this I’ve been sorting through it all. I suppose the best thing is if it’s a repeat offender status thing, cut and run if the situation allows for it. I know live in family members can’t do that but there are things you can do.

Accept the memory loss person (MLP) for who they are, knowing what is possible.

Be supportive in the efforts of the MLP to handle it. Think for a moment about this. You wake up, or are even going along writing or watching a video and then—WHAM—you don’t know what day it is, or what city you are in, or who that person in the other room is. Ever wonder how a person handles that each day?

Think about being in the middle of a sentence and forgetting who it is across the table from you. In this age of internet and digital conversations and friendships it’s even more difficult to remember without those constant physical/visual cues.

People might find it surprising that I wake up and have forgotten the people in my house. Or I will go through one of those situations above. My body goes through a routine each morning and I discover what my problems are and I just go with it. I’ve told myself in letters not to stress, that I am normal. This is normal for me. I tell myself to begin to write something from a list of projects I’m working on.

Sometimes memories will come back or at least enough of a familiarity to make things fine or functionable. Yeah, another of my made up words.

What about the other person, the person forgotten?

What would I do if I were on the other end of this?

I honestly can’t answer that with an all encompassing solution. I think patience is part of it, understanding, and you know maybe even just cut and run. I know people balk at that last one but it is an option. But that is the option people will focus on here because it is seen as the uncaring, cold idea and how could I even think of telling someone to do that if a person cared about the MLP or of the MLP cares about the person.

I’ve been living with this for two years. You get to the point, where after having written about it, thought about it, and lived through it, you cut through it all to the heart or heartless of it all and give solutions.

And what about the MLP? Should they keep trying to remember, opening themselves up to an emotional tug-of-war to then either go through the loss again, perhaps not knowing it, or then being shut off once a connection is established again?

What do I do?

I have no one answer for myself. Perhaps I should, it would make my life easier. Can a person live a life, a healthy life mentally without people? I suppose they can but I’m not that far gone yet.

Now, for those who look at my writing and things I share each day and think I seem normal and I have all these friendships and all, the MLP has tricks they use to get by. Don’t call out the MLP for this if you still want to be a part of their life. At least they are trying.

I’ll tell you one trick I have. It’s called the Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge. No, that’s not a plug for my challenge. I am telling you about a trick. There are people who do the challenge every week, and that means I read their work, usually at least twice, think about it, review it, see their names, and all of that every week. It doesn’t work for each person because of lack of regularity but when I see the name I know it’s familiar and once I get to their site things come back.

MLPs have sensory/emotional impressions of people if not actual memories. I know by a name, if it has been around me long enough, if that person is someone that is positive for me or negative, if that person is a friend or foe, if that person is emotionally good for me or a life drain.

When you hear that old saying about first impressions, it’s true. Make a good first impression and good last impression as well. You are asking, “How do I know when that last impression will be?” Whenever you leave the communication presence of someone, that’s your last impression until the next time you connect with them.

Well, this has been a longer message than I had planned, and I’m not sure if it is even what I had intended, but it is what it is and that’s all that it is. So, as I have just now read back through it, you might find it surprising I forgot about half of what I wrote while I was writing this. But again, it is what it is. I’m not to blame, you are not to blame, there is no blame.

Oh, I just remembered why I was writing this. Seriously. That big recent memory loss I had, like a mind wipe almost, took some important people away and broke things. Hmm, never mind. You know, I’ve tried. I think I will just deal with the depression of it all, come out the other side, and say I am what I am. It’s all I can be. Even if I don’t like it, I have to accept it or wind up on the 6 o’clock news.

 

Much Respect

Ronovan

© Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com 2015

Amnesia. I’m a faker, but I’m me.

Today I need to speak about something. Amnesia. I”m a faker. You read my blog and all I say. You think how I write everything and link things together, how I know so much about blogging and my life.

I’m a faker.

I study, and have routines.

People think of me as being well. How Ronovan is not sick any longer.

I am a master faker.

What you read in this blog are the words of a man who repeats his life daily. I eat the same meals daily. I have medicines laid out in small cups with time labels with them as a reminder when to take them daily.

Then the 70 year old mother in-law must remind to take them.

People have read some of my recent series on comic books with memories I have and don’t realize those are memories I have been told only hours earlier. Fortunately memories having been shared previously with other people in my life, even my 10 year old son. Apparently I talked with him a great deal about comic books, or else he listened well.

But I’m a faker.

I went to my parents this past Saturday. I know this. I don’t remember what happened.

Amnesia and short term memory problems are not fun. Add to that Fibromyalgia and Fibro fog. Think of having blank spots of decades. Think of not having memories to share of experiences. Think of having people who obviously care but you no longer know them.

Think of the stress on the mind and body as one tries to remember and can’t and people don’t understand. Think of wanting to retreat into a world that only you exist in and be alone forever.

I’m a faker.

I am selfish.

My focus has become me, when apparently it once was everyone else. I leave the house once every two months or so. I walk out the door perhaps four. I look at my cat Spunky through the door as the woman I call Grandma feeds him and his family and he loves on her.

I have become afraid of any illness. I don’t want to return to the hospital.

I write books. I know this because I am reminded of it. It is a daily part of what I do. Routine. I have a writing partnership. I enjoy writing, it allows me to create worlds and people and not worry about reality or lost realities.

I don’t have to worry about disappointing, hurting or causing people to hate me because of my not remembering. Imagine having people in your life, nice people, but people who make your brain feel as though it were being compressed and about to pop at the same time.

Now combine that with the guilt of knowing it must be your fault. Then the physical ill that occurs. The mass confusion that begins and creates these storms of what to do, what to do. Now you cannot sleep but two or three hours a day. Eating is something that you think you did. You realize that noise in your stomach must mean you are hungry.

Imagine all of the storms together and for a moment you wonder what hungry is. You know what it is but for a moment you forget.

You make a decision to try and help yourself be well, to be at the least a little better, to stop the confusion storms and pains. The migraine spikes and sleeplessness might end. Then, you are . . .

What are you?

You spent days and days agonizing over decisions.

People don’t understand memory problems. It is an almost surreal thing. I don’t understand it and I live it. At least I think i do. My world is one being formed anew and quite often it seems built on loss.

I never intend to cause problems, pain, disappointments, heartbreak, heartache. However, it seems as though when I am honest I am a disaster creator. I feel hated at times. People don’t understand that I just don’t know.

And they don’t understand that I understand how they just don’t know how I don’t know any longer. Is it easy for me to tell people, “I don’t know you”? To finally come out and try to worry about me?

I’m sitting here now after having done that and now feeling a need to relieve myself of the breakfast I had to take with my first cup of medicines for the day, yes, a cup of pills. I can’t lose them. If I get sick, the pills are gone.

I’m stressing to the max, as some might say. Do I let guilt of something I don’t know force me to lie? Or do I keep trying to be healthy and try to mend?

You see, I try to be an encourager to a lot of people. It’s not something I do on purpose, but I share and it just has happened. Sure, I love it. It’s part of my make up. I guess my DNA or something. Now I am a disappointer, a devastator, a person that hates, a person that is a liar.

Yes, I have been called some of those things today. I understand it. After sharing this I will likely turn off and lie here in bed hoping I feel up to going to my son’s baseball game, his 11th game ever, and I’ve only been able to attend one. I ended up in the hospital the last time. Precautions have had to be made. Now, I’m not even sure I will be able to go.

Do I blame anyone?
Yes.

I blame me. I’m the one with amnesia. I’m the one that loses what people don’t understand. I’m the one that causes the pain. I’m the one that can’t explain because I don’t  have the words at times. Yeah, that’s part of it all too, I don’t have the words. For a writer, not knowing words makes for some boring writing. The thesaurus is my friend. I use it and put in the word that is almost what I know I am looking for.

I don’t hate. I don’t lie. I don’t have the energy or time left in my life to do either. What am I?

I am me.

Whatever that me is today, that’s who I am.

Ronovan

This has not been a sympathy piece. It has been a blogging piece, old school style. A dear diary style of post. Something I had to get out and put down.