Sarah's Inscriptions

Scrolling through Twitter this afternoon, I stumbled upon this thread by Lauren Herschel:  The Ball and the Box .  In it, she explains how grief is like a ball stuck inside a box that has a pain button on one side.  Grief can be a very large ball at times, that constantly knocks against the pain button.  At other times, grief is an incredibly small ball, and only knocks against the pain button every-so-often. If you have read my previous post, you saw that my family lost a member this week.  She was my Great Aunt, and the last person on this earth that was related to my grandfather, aside from his children.  I never met my grandfather, unfortunately, but I feel as though I have in some distant familial way.  So to lose my Great Aunt is going to be pretty difficult to fathom for me for a while, and that's okay. That's not the only thing I have been dealing with, grief-wise.  I feel as though I haven't quite been myself for a few months, in all honesty.  My ball of grief

It is currently still Christmas Eve where I live, but I am not feeling the joy of the holiday's... Today, unfortunately, my family heard of the passing of a beloved family member.  It can be exceptionally complicated to deal with grief during a period of time that is supposed to be full of love, joy, and peace.  Grief, regardless of holidays, can be complicated to deal with on its own, but when you add in the very opposite emotions of the spectrum, that you believe are necessary to feel during these times, exuding sadness can make one feel guilty. I currently don't feel guilty.  I feel sad, and that's that.  I don't feel a responsibility to be happy, despite the holiday tomorrow.  I feel the responsibility to myself to exude my emotions honestly, and applaud myself for such.  A family member has left this Earth, to be greeted by God and their loved one's in Heaven.  The only complicated feelings I have are over that.  I know they are no longer suffering or

1. Visit Greece & Rome In college, I took a couple art history and humanities courses.  In them, I learned about different genres, cultures, styles, and eras of art, among many other things.  Most of which (or at least my favorites), seemed to originate in Greece and Rome. Michelangelo's work, Titan's, (list some others).  Not only art, but also just simple historical curiosity; visiting the Colosseum, and the re-discovered city of Pompeii are definitely burning desires of mine (pun NOT intended, that would be horrible). 2. Write a Novel If you haven't read my first blog post, I describe my love and admiration for the art of literature, both reading and writing it.  And, to be a little dramatic, I believe literature saved me, which I also previously discussed.  Ever since I found literature as an outlet, a form of expression, a sort of medication if you will, I have vowed to myself to do the same for others - create a world for countless lost individuals to es

My parents got divorced in the Fall of 2000.  My siblings and I were all very young; I was only 2 1/2 at the time.  At such a young age, I clearly did not understand the tremendous impact, both positive and negative, this change would have on my life - I would never know what living as a family felt like, or living in one house felt like, and would never go on a family vacation with both parents at the same time.  I hope it does not seem as though I am saying that blended family's are disgraceful or awful by any means; I believe family's of all shapes, sizes, and colors are blessings!  But my father re-married, and my step-mom had three older daughters.  Six kids, two family's blended to one, and a new house and environment to learn to love. I grew up in the home my parents once shared.  My mother got sole custody of my two siblings and I, thus she got to keep the house.  Thankfully, my dad and step-family didn't move too far away.  House number one (and there were

For years, I have wholeheartedly believed that literature, whether reading or writing it, is powerful.  During a rather dark and somber period in my life, I went to books to find solace.  The simple act of holding a book, absentmindedly flipping the pages, and focusing all of your attention on the story rather than the trials and tribulations of life - disappearing from my own life, and becoming enraptured in a fictitious land that can only be traveled to via the books covers - was very peaceful for me.  It didn't take me very long to fall in love with the act of writing either.  I have been creating my own work, both good and bad, for years. But it's not just fiction that can transport us.  In fact, it's not always a new location that we need or desire, but rather a mirror to help reflect ourselves.  Writing, in all its shapes, sizes, colors, and genres, can help us acknowledge our feelings, and eventually overcome them.  Whether through poetry, short stories, or keepi