I've been working on a script idea, off and on for the last 6 months. Recently I realized my original idea needed a major overhaul and the last week I've been working through what needs to be changed. I've spend a good part of today working on it and got stalled... I've been trying to figure the direction of the main character. Something or someone is missing. Out of nowhere, this amazing 90 year old spitfire with a thick Scottish accent appeared. I'm now once again moving forward.
This isn't the kick in the pants that the title of this blog entry alludes to. This was just much needed help....
For months I've been making progress and moving back up the hill to actually being happy again. It's been a very steep, very slippery slope! I am almost at the top... then somewhere around 3 am this morning, I heard the demons in my head whispering again and well.... I started sliding backward. When I do this, I usually end up hermiting myself and move back into the world of writing. I don't have to deal with real people when I am there. So, out comes the script.
That's not the only thing that came out! I smiled when I thought of this tiny, 90 year old woman telling off the main character. Deja Vu, familiar territory. Grandma Betty?
This woman took no guff from anyone, she was tough, independent, raised many, many children on her own and laughed, a lot. When I was 13 she met up with me one day as I was walking home from school. I didn't see her at first and she was right beside me before I even noticed. I had spent another day being tormented by girls in school, ostracized for not fitting in. She caught me off guard, caught me crying.
I went through Hell in high school. A Hell, I until recently haven't shared with very many people. That day I did end up sharing it with Grandma Betty, she listened and when I was done, looked at me, told me to blow my nose and said these words that, till this day I can still hear loud and clear. 'Why do you care what they think?' Every time I would try to answer she would stop me and repeat, 'Why do you care what they think?' Why did I care? This woman had lived through emigrating from Scotland to Canada, poverty, raising 13 children on her own and took care of herself for most of her life. I was 13 and crying over words. Yes mean words, but just words. These words and the talk with her that afternoon gave me the ability to deal with what I was going through and her strength has helped me become the woman I am today.
She isn't with us in body any longer. She hasn't been for many years, but let me tell you, she swings back in just when you need it. Today was one of those days. I've been fighting with myself not to let one specific aspect of my life get to me any longer, but somehow I let it back in again. I over think things and need to stop and I needed to hear her thick, beautiful accent saying those words to me, because really, why do I care what anyone thinks. Like her, I've been taking care of myself for many, many years and likely will for years to come. I needed her today and she was right there without fail. I miss that woman with all my heart, but know she will always be there to kick me in the keester when I need it.
I'm not sure if she ever told my parents about that day. It was never mentioned to me, so I'm not sure. But it is one of my fondest memories of her and one of her most important lessons.
