Mental Illness

Elizabeth found her mother's illness to be a embarrassment most of the time. She never felt she could share her struggles in life with her mother. I guess she felt her mother was to overwhelmed with her own emotional needs.
Elizabeth always wondered if her friends had a parent who was ill like her mother. As time pasted for Elizabeth she thought maybe her life would of been different if she had a normal mother like her friends did.

Elizabeth thinks...

Elizabeth thinks she is the only one who could ever be dumped by a boyfriend. She feels lost once the boy she loved leaves. What will she ever do... how will she pick up the pieces and move on?

LIfe

Jacqueline's heart filled with awe...as she read her mothers words. Never did her arms pits sweat like they did when her eyes glided across the paper.

Coming to the end...sweet.

Words, thoughts, and emotions, build a book with meaning. Each letter brings together a view of some form of direction.
I have almost completely put my novel together. It's been a ten year process. Now it's down to the hard part. Editing. My hope is the book will touch someones life. It's got lots of sad experiences for both Elizabeth and Jacqueline, but it also has a story of courage and faith. Prayer is the key of placing the words in a order that bring a picture together. Never realized how many villains I had in the book. I think there are now four or maybe five. I guess it depends on how the reader sees each character.

Life of a writer

I have neglected my blog and feel horrible about it. My time has been consumed with writing and getting my novel finished. I’m also happy that I put a new character in my novel. Her name is Jacqueline which was my mother’s name. Poor Jacqueline who is only 14 finds haunting stories from the attic about her grandma and mother. Now my novel is in the editing stage. I have started on a prequel.

Elizabeth wonders...why her.

As I looked at Mom, I hoped she could see I ached inside. “He loved me and cared.”
I left my plate of food on the table and ran to my bedroom. Mom screamed at me as I ran.
“Elizabeth, please come back in here. We need to finish talking.”
I couldn’t go back in the kitchen, I collapsed on my bed, which was the start of a down hill spiral of unbelief that Paul would say those sentences to my mother. Miserable would be one of only many words that described the way I felt. Paul didn’t want to see me or tell me he had been at my home. To hear those words he said to my mother made me wonder if he loved me, cared about me or just used me. I couldn’t understand why Paul didn’t tell me on the phone the night I talked to him. He was able to escape the looks of those who knew what we did together was wrong, morally. I had learned to deal with stares because of my vision problem, but this was unbearable, because, I knew it was a mistake that could have been avoided.
My bedroom walls served as a barrier against those I felt had control of my life. Often that first week I stayed in my room. I heard the door bell ring several times, but today when the door bell rang it gave me hope, because of the familiar voices I heard through my bedroom wall. Mom knocked faintly on my bedroom door and then spoke loud enough so I could hear her. “Elizabeth I would like you to come out and see our visitors.”

Do Teenagers often feel like their parents are against them?

Elizabeth felt lied to when her mother told her she was going to the doctors, but instead took her to a mental hospital. Here part of a scene of what happened to Elizabeth.

I started to speak with more determination. “Mom, you can’t leave me here?”
I noticed my father as he walked away with his hand planted firmly on his head. He wanted to hug me I knew it, but he seemed upset with my mother and walked out the double doors that we entered through.
Mom looked up at me one last time. “I need to leave now, Elizabeth, and you will be fine here. Later, Dad and I will bring down some clothes for you.”
The nurse stopped my mother as she started to push herself with the use of her feet to roll her wheel chair forward.
“Oh, Mrs. Bell, Elizabeth won’t be able to have any items until after the twenty- four hour suicide watch. We will call you and let you know when those twenty- four hours are up.”
I cupped my hands together around my mouth and yelled, I didn’t care who heard me. “Mom, please, I beg you, don’t leave me here. I want to go home with you and Dad.”