Currently … April 28, 2016

I’m borrowing the idea for this post from my friend Kate. I guess “Currently…” has been around for years, but I’m a million years late to blogging (at least this time around), and it sounds like a fun way to remember to post semi-regularly.

I’m currently

Loving …

I’m loving that I’ve gotten to write regularly at least once a week for almost a month. I really love my WIP and my characters.

Also, I have new lip gloss and it makes me feel great!




Reading …

Raven King

I just started reading THE RAVEN KING last night. I got the doodled copy when I pre-ordered, and I’m so excited about this book!

Watching …

Nothing. I’m kind of burned out on TV and movies. Although cuddling with my husband and watching reruns of Alton Brown’s GOOD EATS was a lot of fun the other night.

Listening to …

I’m late to the party, but I just discovered Sufjan Stevens.

And I was feeling nostalgic and started listening to the Goo Goo Dolls earlier this week. “Name” and “Iris” still wreck me.

Thinking about …

I’m doing a real, live fact checking interview today to get information for my WIP. I’ve been nervous about it all week, but I think it will be a good thing. Honestly, I’m really excited to be digging in and talking to someone like a professional writer.

It makes me anxious to talk about my WIP with someone other than my betas and CPs. I’ve always been a little superstitious about saying things out loud, and now I’m talking about my little almost-finished story like it’s a real book. Getting out of my comfort zone is a good thing, but I really need my nerves to calm down.


It’s not just in your head


It’s time to be very real.

I have anxiety and depression. I’ve struggled for as long as I can remember, but no one really offered me help until I was in college – and then it was a low dose of anxiety medication from my PCP.

I grew up in a family that swept everything under the rug. People whispered that my grandmother had had a “mental breakdown” as being the reason she and my grandfather left good civil service jobs in Ohio to buy a farm in rural Tennessee. (She hated it. She hated the small town, the farm, the isolation, and I think she hated the repression.) She turned to religion.

My mother seems to have inherited similar issues with her mental health, but we don’t discuss it. We don’t discuss much, especially if it’s problematic. My family would rather suffer than admit that there is something wrong, and we sure as hell don’t go telling everyone that things aren’t going exactly right.

I remember having anxiety in elementary school. My stomach would cramp before tests. I hated talking in front of my class. I always felt like I was letting someone down. I was labeled “shy” and “gifted.” I didn’t feel like I fit in with my peers. I wanted to quit school in fifth grade. I would disassemble mechanic pencils and use the metal pieces to scratch my wrists in the middle of class. I wanted to make them bleed.

No one noticed.

My grandmother was convinced I was going to be inhabited by a demon. She kept giving me Christian books about demon possession and how to avoid it. (When I started carrying keys so I could stay home alone after school, my grandfather said my pewter Classic Winnie the Pooh key chain looked like a demon.) I was freaked out by all of this, but what do you say? Who do you tell that your grandparents want you to “be a good Christian”? That doesn’t sound scary. No one in a rural, conservative community thinks any of that is weird.

I was just “emotional.” When my grandmother and favorite great-aunt died within a few months of each other, I remember lying on my bedroom floor one night crying. I felt empty. My mother told me to stop being ridiculous because crying wouldn’t do anything.

Suck it up.

I got put on medicine for IBS because my stomach was always a mess, but no one ever mentioned mental health. No one ever asked how I was doing emotionally. Emotions didn’t count. If you weren’t having a heart attack or bleeding, suck it up. Everyone has stress. Everyone hates school. Everyone worries. You’re not unique. Just keep making straight A’s.

When my “friends” left a dead skunk – A. F—ING. DEAD. SKUNK!!!! – on my doorstep before an Academic Decathlon meet, “oh, they’re just jealous.” Just shovel the skunk up and throw it into the woods.

Laugh it off. Smile. Never let anyone know you’re dying inside.

I wrote and wrote and wrote. I wrote about suicide and depression. I never told anyone I was hurting, but I was poring my heart out, even though I didn’t realize it was about me. I was so detached my fiction was more real than I knew.

In college, I hit rock bottom. I’d been invited to a party. All my friends had left without me, so I was going to have to drive by myself. I spent the whole trip, imagining running my car off the road. I wanted to die, but I didn’t have the guts to wreck my car because what if it didn’t work? At the party, I never said a word about my feelings to my friends, but they made me feel loved, and I went back to my dorm that night without anymore thoughts of hurting myself. I don’t think I ever told my BFF about that drive to the party until well after we’d graduated.

I can’t remember when or why I started taking a mild anxiety medication. I messed around with my dosage. I’d take too much. Skip days. Finally, I gave up. It didn’t seem to do anything. I didn’t ask for anything else to help with my anxiety until I was in grad school with a thesis director who had abdicated our department, an application to the Ph.D program that had been conveniently “lost,” and a fiance who suddenly quit speaking to me a month before our wedding.

It took several tries of different meds to find something that worked – something that didn’t leave me feeling like I was vibrating out of my skin. I finally found a medication that worked. I dropped out of grad school with all my coursework finished and about 75-90% of two complete theses. I got married (he was in Germany and depressed over his best friend’s death, which seemed to explain why he went on complete communication blackout), and he deployed to Iraq less than a month after our wedding.

While my husband was deployed I started seeing a counselor. It was awesome, but some days when I had appointments, I was too depressed to get out of bed. I missed them, forgot to call, and eventually I quit going. I tried to talk to my mother, but her answer was, “you knew what you were getting into when you married a military guy.”

You’re the only one who can make you happy or sad. It’s a choice.

I yelled at her from the fire escape above my favorite coffee shop. I’m sure I seemed crazy and out of control.

I was out of control. I couldn’t control my brain. It was running away without me.

I went off my meds again. I was depressed. I stayed up all night into the early mornings. I’d go outside at sunrise and prune the bushes in front of my house, and then I’d crash until 2 or 3 p.m. I’d come back to the little down that made my grandmother’s depression worse. I felt trapped. My husband was in a dangerous, scary place with limited communication for 15 months. I was scared and lonely.

But it was all my fault. It was all in my head.

That’s what depression and anxiety tell you. That’s what people who don’t understand those conditions tell you.

When my husband came home, he was depressed, he had PTSD, and a TBI (which no one wanted to talk about because he never had an open wound, just concussions). I was depressed. We couldn’t communicate.

With a doctor’s help, I went back on my meds. I started feeling better. There was a light again. I convinced my husband to seek help. He was put on antidepressants too. He immediately hated them. He’ll claim PTSD and after much discussion, he understand he has a TBI, whether or not the VA will acknowledge it, but he refuses to admit that he’s depressed. He said the medication made him feel nothing. He went off them without discussing it with anyone.

I still take mine – I’m becoming more outspoken about mental health. I want it to be understood. I want to understand it. I don’t want people to suffer silently with it.

My mother takes her meds silently. My husband thinks they have made her dependent. That taking them makes a person weaker, unable to handle emotions, void of feeling.

I try to explain every chance I get. I think I need to have them adjusted again. I’m feeling more anxious, more out of control. I cry and feel like breaking down over the tiniest things. The world feels overwhelming again. I tried to tell him about this last night, but he said it’s because I’m still taking my meds.

I was “okay” when I had to stop while I was pregnant.

He forgets how I cried and cried. He doesn’t know how I felt inside. He said postpartum depression is just a normal state – even though I wanted to kill myself. I hid knives in the bathroom, I started clawing and biting myself again. I’ve broken down sobbing in the middle of the kitchen floor.

I NEED to take my meds to be okay. I need to have them adjusted from time to time to make sure they keep working. I don’t want to want to die. I don’t want to hate myself. Antidepressants, anti-anxiety medication, anti-psychotics, etc. aren’t numbing us. They’re keeping us alive, just like medicine for any other condition is important and beneficial.

Never, never, NEVER let anyone tell you that your mental health is faked, isn’t important, is just a phase, or anything else. And please don’t let someone talk you out of taking or going on medication if you need it. It does work. I promise.

I’m here because of it. I plan to stay because of it.

Currently …

I’m borrowing the idea for this post from my friend Kate. I guess “Currently…” has been around for years, but I’m a million years late to blogging (at least this time around), and it sounds like a fun way to remember to post semi-regularly.

I’m currently

Loving …

This is a challenging one. I guess I’m loving that I finally have a local place to go and write again. The library on campus is my happy place.

Library writing

Reading …

The Sky Is Everywhere cover

Allegedly, I’m reading The Sky Is Everywhere by Jandy Nelson. I like it. Nelson’s writing is lyrical and gorgeous, but I’m just not feeling the vibe at the moment. I’m tired and run down, and instead of reading at night, I’ve been scrolling aimlessly on my phone until I nearly pass out.

I’ve just finished two books that I. Could. Not. Put. Down. Six of Crows and What Remains gave me the most glorious book hangovers, and maybe I’m not ready to start something else right away.

I feel like I’m going to be disowned from being an official book nerd when I see people who are reading a book a day or even a book a week, and I’m struggling to read a few chapters a day. This is only the fifth book I’ve started this year. *hides*

If you count picture books, I have a better track record. The toddler and I read an average of five books a night. Some are the same every day (Goodnight Moon, Dear Zoo, Little Owl’s Night, and The ABCers), but I do actually read something.

Watching …

I’m in a rut with my TV viewing. Every time I sit down to watch TV, I feel like I should be doing something else … or I fall asleep. I’m only really paying attention to Game of Thrones Season 5.

Game of Thrones s5Listening to …

Sigu Ros

Sigur Ros when I need to be calm.

If I’m driving the car that has a radio, I listen to the contemporary pop station.

When I’m writing and need inspiration, I listen to my WIP playlist that has Imagine Dragons, Panic! At the Disco, Troye Sivan, and Lord Huronamong others.

Thinking about …

I keep wondering if I’m the right person to write my WIP. I can’t help thinking about the dynamics of writing outside of one’s experience. I’ve ALWAYS defaulted to writing about boys, or as one of my CPs says, “sports boys with issues.” My finished manuscript was less outside my experience because it was dual POV and dealt with depression, but it’s still a complicated balance.

Lately, I’ve been reading so much about representation and sensitivity that I’m second guessing myself. Maybe I’m not qualified to write the books that are in my head. Maybe I should stick to my own experiences. Truthfully, my OWN experience isn’t something I care to revisit. I write to escape, to live a different life, to see the world from a different angle.

My “sports boys with issues” have a lot to do with my psychology degree and the fact that I always wanted to go into the medical field. I wanted to be a physical therapist, but I let people talk me out of it. I regret that. I want to at least have a taste of the world I never entered, so I research the hell out of everything I write. Maybe it’s not enough. Maybe it is.

I don’t know anymore.

Anticipating …


My WIP. Despite my fears, I’m anxious to finish this draft, and I’m anxious to let my betas and CPs read it.

Kiss pic

Making me happy …

This kid!

Caelan - hat



Cover Reveal – TUNED INTO YOU

Today I get to help with this blog’s first ever cover reveal! (And I hope the first of many more to come!!) I’m so excited to show you guys the cover of my amazing CP’s debut novel.

Cindy Dorminy and I met during Pitch Wars last year, and we exchanged manuscripts to critique. It was so much fun getting lost in the world of country music, horses, and softball along with Abe and Lydia. This is a beautiful story of opposites attracting, and I can’t wait for it to be released this summer!

So without further ado …

… I present …


















Today is the cover reveal for Tuned Into You by Cindy Dorminy. This cover reveal is organized by Lola’s Blog Tours.

Tuned Into YouTuned Into You
By Cindy Dorminy
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Age category: Young Adult
Publisher: BookFish Books

A summer party is the last place Lydia Flowers wants to be. Beer pong? Stupid, foot-wrecking shoes? Random hookups? No thanks. Lydia would rather be in her cleats practicing her bat handling skills.

Enter Abe Fischer, the Nashville Teen Idol superstar. He’s a lip-syncing party animal with a short fuse; or at least that’s what the tabloids say. Except, Abe turns out to be nothing like the guy Lydia’s read about online. He’s sweet, and the way he talks to his horse…sigh.

Then life throws Lydia and Abe a curveball. They are wrongfully arrested for destruction of property. Their choices? Either work on the Fischer Farm for the summer earning nothing more than blisters and a sunburn, or have the arrest go on their records, which would ruin Lydia’s shot at a softball scholarship. It’s a no-brainer. Lydia picks up a pitchfork, pulls out the SPF 40, and prepares for the worst two months of her life.

When the press gets wind of a big secret Abe’s family has been keeping, things become even more complicated. Now Lydia has another choice to make: stick around for Abe’s messed-up life in the spotlight, or go for the scholarship of her dreams.

You can find Tuned Into You on Goodreads

Cindy DorminyAbout the Author:
Cindy Dorminy grew up on a steady diet of popcorn (the kind you pop in a sauce pan), Tab (pre-Diet Coke), and movies for teenagers. She can’t let a day go by without quoting a line from one of her favorite films, so quirky dialogue is a must in her stories.

When she’s not at her research coordinator day job, Cindy is writing funny love stories, walking her dog, or slinging iron the old-fashioned way. She shares her house with her musician husband, her awesome daughter, and a cool, four-footed child that would eat all the cheese if she could figure out how to open the refrigerator.

Cindy is a member of Romance Writers of America and Music City Romance Writers. She resides in Nashville, TN where live music can be heard everywhere, even at the grocery store.

You can find and contact Cindy Dorminy here:

There is a cover reveal wide giveaway for the cover reveal of Tuned Into You. One winner will win a 25$ iTunes gift card.

For a chance to win, enter the rafflecopter below:
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