top of page
  • Writer's pictureMary

Quarter of a Life, is this how it begins?


I feel like I've tried this before.

In 2018 I started a little blog called "Vodka Soda with a Lime" to record my time working at a 5-star hotel conference bar. It was 50% so I could remember all of the strange people I met, and 50% so I could share those experiences with people over social media so they'd also know what I was up to in my life. After I stopped working at the bar, it's mostly been sitting there unused.

In 2019, I started a Google Sites website to collect my random thoughts and show off my artwork and written achievements. I wanted to get a writing job, and it's always impressive to have a website and a portfolio of written works somewhere (I have Thoughts on that, but that's for another post). I haven't even opened that one since August 2020 (also Google Site sucks at blogs).

So, what I'm saying is, I've tried to be good at blogging before, and I've always failed.

And here's the other thing: I know why.

I'm boring.

Okay, so that's not entirely true and is just my brain insidiously reminding me that I'll never be good enough to be a writer. It has a habit of doing that sometimes. I refuse to let it win any argument or conversation, so I firmly do the exact opposite of what it's telling me, even if my attempts slowly fizzle out into nothing.

Part of it, though, isn't untrue either. I don't have many stories that I feel like are worth telling outside of my fantasy stories that fill up my head and take the place of probably more important things. My inner-life is rich and full, and I've often been told that I always seem like I have something going on, plans that I'm already attached to. I don't. I never do. I just fill up the empty space in my life with projects so I don't focus on the fact that my friends are all out enjoying themselves, and no one invited me to join because they assumed I had plans.

Jeezums, this is getting heavy.

I'm getting off track. I do that a lot. Bear with me.

There are a few reasons I've never stuck with a blog: one is definitely that I don't think of myself or my wild thoughts as things that are inherently interesting, or that anyone outside of a chosen few are going to want to hear or read about them. The other is that I've been struggling for most of my life with unmedicated ADHD, and that means that I've always had a really, really, REALLY hard time with schedules, sticking with long-time projects that require even a modicum of work on my end, and even remembering to update anything (My socials are updated once a month at most. I've never been able to keep the idea of updates in my head).

Though maybe the most important reason is that I'm afraid of failure. I'm afraid of failure so much that I'll often settle happily at second-best because shooting for the stars can end up in a crash landing back to earth. I was the naturally-talented "Gifted" kid. I wrapped up an entire personality in being the person that others go to when they need help, when they need advice, when they need a steadying presence. I've never been the one to ask anyone else for that kind of help. If other people knew that I needed help too, then they wouldn't come to me for it; they would find someone more qualified. My role would be gone, and no one would need me. And then who would I be? In some way, I think I've always just desperately needed to feel...well...needed.

Perhaps in a way, forcing myself to write down my thoughts, share them with people, is holding myself accountable. It's a reminder that my thoughts, my feelings, my questions and comments and concerns, are all valid things. I'm allowed to have those things. It's part of that achingly long process of coming to love myself more, and not beat myself up for every mistake I make, for every moment that I didn't make my successes look effortless. I'm allowed to struggle. I'm allowed to hurt. I'm allowed to be myself.

So, allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Mary. I just turned 25. I have five siblings and two parents and I love them all so much that my chest clenches up when I think about them.

I love watching the Star Wars: The Clone Wars animated TV show. I have Nintendo figurines in my room. I play a lot of Dungeons & Dragons. I sing when I'm happy, and draw when I can't think of anything but a single line of dialogue that simply must be put on paper.

I love to write. I love to create worlds and magic and swords. There is nothing more satisfying to me than writing a perfect scene that hits you in the gut with emotions. I love sharing that writing with people and having them come back to me saying "That section was really good". It fills my stomach with warmth, like I've just had a big sip of tea with honey.

I love the stars, and the moon, and space. I like how small they make me feel, and how they connect me with every human being who's ever lived on this earth since the beginning of time. Seeing a Bortle 1 dark sky is on my bucket list.

I'm very human.

And I'm trying to love myself more.

So maybe this time, it'll work. Maybe I'll actually be able to write more outside of my novels and it'll stick. At least at the end of the day, I can say that I tried.

47 views2 comments

Recent Posts

See All

A Lost Year

Happiest of New Years to everyone reading this, and even to everyone who looked at the title and decided not to read it. You deserve a Happy New Year too. I understand all too well the overwhelming se


Jun 14, 2021

Love you! Every little last bit of you! 😘



Jun 17, 2021
Replying to

😘 Love you too, Mom!

bottom of page