Author: Aimee Eddy

Four years of writing my memoir, reliving good and bad memories, and then more time working on editing will soon end. I have set a launch date and I’m planning a launch party. God has been good. He has been working his miracles to help my book get published. I know he wants my story to be told, and he has been sending me wonderful people to help me get my book out there for people to read.

I am self-publishing my book. When I tell people that they ask me, “How are you going to come up with the money for that?” My answer is through the grace of God. He has given me two wonderful editors for free and another author who created my cover and will format my memoir. He has allowed me to sell my woodburnings to put a side for the launch party, publicity, and other things I need. He has given me wonderful friends and family who have been supporting me through the whole process. God wants my story to be told and soon that will happen.

I have seven beta readers reading my manuscript right now. Beta readers are people who read the manuscript to check for any errors the editors may have missed and to make sure it flows well. I have three people giving me endorsements; these are a strong sentence or two that tells good things about the book. I’m currently working with Pennwriters, a national writing group, to fine tune my back blurb, which is the paragraph on the back cover that talks about the book, and I’m working on the about the author section.

Everything is coming together nicely. I just recently revealed my book cover on Facebook. This Wednesday a friend of my husband is going to take a head shot of me to put in my book and for me to use for publicity. A member of the Yacht Club where my husband works is sponsoring me to have my launch party there. The only way a nonmember can have a party there is if a member sponsors you. Right now, I’m trying to design my own invitations for the party and put together a list of people to invite. Step by step everything is coming together, and God is leading the way.

I have set my launch date for August 17. I am so excited I can barely wait. It’s been my dream since high school to have my own book published. I made many attempts at trying to write a book, but never succeeded until now. I think the biggest reason I have completed this memoir is my husband. Each night before he went to bed, he encouraged me to write. When I came to bed, he’d ask me how many pages I wrote. When I felt like giving up, he pushed me to keep going. He gave that extra boost I needed to finish this book. Pennwriters also is a big part of completing my book, they helped me fine tune my writing skills and grow as an author.

I owe a lot to my parents also. Since I realized I could write way back in seventh grade, they have been very encouraging. My mom used to be the first person to read all my writing. I would spend hours in my room writing out a short story and then I would take it to my mom to read. She would point out any mistakes I made and praise me on what a wonderful job I did. I filled folders and notebooks with stories. Mom loved every one of them, and when a story was published or I won a contest, my parents were the first to congratulate me. My dad told me when I became a famous author some day, I could buy him his own airport. Dad loves to fly small airplanes.

My grandparents were also very supportive of my writing. I was always excited to share my writing with them. They to believed in my ability to go far with my work. Grandma never wrote a book or short story, but she crafted wonderful letters that could put tears in your eyes. Her words were beautifully written, and I believe I got my talent to write from her. My parents were the first to get anything I was published in, and my grandparents were second.

It’s because of my parents’ and grandparents’ support and belief in me that I kept pursuing the dream to be a published author. It’s because of my husband’s extra push to finish this manuscript that I’m about to have a published book. God gave me these wonderful people to help me to help me along. That’s why my book will be dedicated to them.

My dreams of having a book published is coming true and I couldn’t be more excited than I am. I’ll be dancing when my published book arrives in the mail. I plan to have my husband take a picture of me holding it. In high school I daydreamed about holding my published book and doing book signings. That daydream is about to become a reality.

I hope to work with the grocery store where I’ve worked nearly 27 years to have a book signing. I know I can sell plenty of copies because many customers and fellow employees know I have been working on a book. Some of my customers have been getting progress reports on it through the years. I have been keeping the store manager up to date on the progress of my book. I believe it will be great for Giant Eagle to have their own cashier as a published author.

Once the book is published, I must market it and set up my own book signing. I know that many of my published author friends will give me lots of advice. The work is never done. Even when the book is published. From what I have been told, marketing it is the hardest part. I’m ready for a new challenge.

My parents always told me that dreams come true if you’re willing to work hard at it. They are right. My dream is about to come true. I am going to have my first book published. Because of all the wonderful people God put in my life, I stand in the light as a proud author about to have her book published.

There is no cure for mental illness. Recovery doesn’t mean you are cured and will never struggle or fall down that hole again. Recovery means, with medication and coping techniques, you can manage your illness well enough that you can live your life and find happiness. What happens when you begin to fall backwards into the wrath of your illness? There will be times when your illness gets the best of you, and you begin to struggle harder than usual.

Don’t beat yourself up if you feel like you’re losing control of your illness. It’s unfortunately part of the process. I have put together a plan on what to do if I feel like I’m falling out of recovery. Here is my plan.

• Step one. Take note of your symptoms. You should know the signs of when you’re losing control of your illness. Write down your symptoms: Are you canceling plans with friends? Are you calling off work a lot? Are you struggling to get out of bed? Are you thinking about hurting yourself? Are you having frequent crying spells? Are you so depressed you can’t function? Are your thoughts racing out of control?
• Step two. Tell someone about your feelings. This is a good time to lean on your support system. Talk to the friends and family you have chosen as a support team. That’s what they are there for. You can’t fight this illness alone.
• Step three. Try using the coping techniques you have learned to help you deal with this rough time. Coping techniques can be: doing a craft, listing the positives, journaling, breathing exercises, going for a walk, writing your negative thoughts down and changing them into positive.
• Step four. If you’re not in therapy, then find a therapist. There are some state programs that can get you therapy at low cost or no cost if you don’t have insurance. Do some research to find the right therapist for you. If you’re in therapy, make sure you show your therapist a list of your symptoms and how you are feeling. Discuss with him or her about what the next steps you need to take.
• Step five. Talk to your psychiatrist. This is another good time to use your list of symptoms. Tell your psychiatrist everything and be throrogh. He or she may need to adjust your medication or change it. Knowing what your symptoms are will help the psychiatrist to decide how to help you. If you don’t have a psychiatrist, I suggest you look into finding one. The proper medication can help with many of your symptoms and make it easier to fight your way back to recovery. Family doctors can prescribe you antidepressants, but a psychiatrist can prescribe you stronger ones and ones that will help you the best.
• Step six. If you have a helpline or crisis line in your area and you’re feeling bad, call them. They are there to help you and steer you to the right help. If you feel suicidal, call them. Keep the number for the help line or crisis line where you can find it, like on your refrigerator. Add it into your cell phone.
• Step seven. This is a last resort step. If everything you’re doing isn’t helping you, you feel like you’re a danger to yourself and others, and you are seriously thinking about suicide, then it’s time to check into inpatient care. You can talk to your therapist or psychiatrist about helping you find the right hospital. You can ask someone from your support team to go with you to an emergency room to be admitted.
• The most important step: Fight with all you have in you to pull yourself back up. Remember how you got yourself out of this darkness before and use it to help you climb out of the hole. You reached recovery once and you can do it again. FIGHT!!!

Falling backwards can happen to anyone. Sometimes life throws us down and we lose grip on the light of recovery. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault you’re falling out of recovery. You can only manage your illness; you can’t control it. It has a mind of its own and it can rear its ugly head during the rough times in your life when you are the weakest. The good news is there is always a path back to recovery. Create your own plan for when you feel like you’re falling out of recovery. Make sure you share your plan with your support team, so they know what to do.

There have been times in my life I felt like I was falling backwards. I turned to my plan to help me get onto the right path. My support team has also been vital in helping me when I feel like I’m losing the battle. Having a plan has helped me stay within the light of recovery. I stand in the light of recovery knowing my plan will always help me find my way back if I fall down that hole again.

A customer said something to me Saturday night that touched my heart. She said, “All women are mothers even if they don’t have children of their own.”

Most women have motherly instincts even if they don’t give birth to a child or adopt one. Teachers think of their students as their children, aunts think of their nieces and nephews as their children, pet owners think of their pets as their children, a woman can think of a younger friend as her child, and so on. A mother’s love is in our hearts, and we spread it to the people and pets in our lives. Mother’s Day isn’t just for the women who gave birth to a child, but for all women who have give motherly love to others.

When I was with my ex-boyfriend, he kept telling me how much he wanted to have a child with me. I had my doubts and said no. I was very sick and knew at that time I wasn’t capable of having a child. I figured I’d have a child one day when I was well. I dreamed of being a mom and holding my newborn child in my arms, but I feared I would pass my mental illness on to my child. I wasn’t sure I could watch my own child go through what I was going through. He pressed on and I stuck to no. He was abusive and not the kind of man I wanted to raise a child with.

After he kicked me out, I knew I had made the right choice, but I dreamed of motherhood. What name would I give my child if a girl or boy? What kind of mother would I be? How would I look as a pregnant woman? How many children would I have if I found the right man? I figured I would find a wonderful man who would help me build a beautiful family, but my mental illness shattered that dream.

I discussed my desire to have children with my therapist. We talked about how hard it would be for me to be off my antidepressants while being pregnant. There was a big possibility I would spend nine months in and out of a mental health hospital. Then there might be postpartum depression. With major depression, Borderline Personality Disorder, and anxiety, postpartum depression would be even harder on me. I didn’t want to be the mother who harmed her child or spent her child’s first years in a hospital. I couldn’t do that to a child.

Children are a lot of work and raising them is stressful. I don’t handle stress well. When I get stressed out, I have anxiety attacks and I fall apart. I don’t work a full-time job because I can’t handle forty hours of stress. There are no hours for parenting. I can’t just leave for hours at a time to relax and be by myself. After six hours of a hard day at work I can go home, put my feet up, watch a movie, snuggle with my husband, and be free of works problems. As a mom, home is your workplace and there is no leaving when things get rough. I would be constantly sick and falling apart because of the stress. I would probably end up spending a lot of time in a mental health hospital because the stress was too much for me to handle.

Then there is the worrying. I worry obsessively about small stuff. My worries overtake me, and they get blown out of portion. I would worry excessively about a child. My child wouldn’t have been able to go to school, a friend’s house, or to an activity without me worrying myself sick. My child probably would grow up to hate me because I wouldn’t let my child do much because I worried too much. I wouldn’t be able to eat or sleep because my worries would drive me crazy. I would be sick all the time from anxiety attacks.

These reasons and some other are what convinced me that I wasn’t meant to have a child. I mourned at first for my lost dream of motherhood. Accepting it wasn’t easy at first, but I knew it was the right decision. I cried over it.

When I met Lou, I told him I wouldn’t be able to give him a child. He said, “I don’t need children. I just need you.”

I love the marriage Lou and I have. I have had four dogs who were and are my babies. Our current dog, Esther, is my baby girl. I love her dearly and do my best to take really good care of her. I also have six nieces and five nephews whom I adore greatly and love endlessly. I have two great nieces, a great nephew, and a great nephew on the way that I also love endlessly. I also have nieces and nephews I have adopted into my heart whom I adore.

I don’t have any children I gave birth to, but I have lots of children, including fur babies. Like my customer said, “All women are mothers even if they don’t have children of their own.” I never gave birth to a child, but I have lots of children. My husband and mom give me a Mother’s Day card each year. I celebrate just like any other mother. Mother’s Day is for all women who have given love to a child or a pet. It’s for all women whose hearts are big, and love is endless.

Loving all my nieces, nephews, my past dogs, and my current dog spreads the light of recovery within my soul.

Happy belated Mother’s Day.

Rejection letters are part of the publishing business. All writers get them. Even J.K. Rowling received many rejection letters for the first Harry Potter book, and L. Frank Baum received several rejection slips for Wizard of OZ. It’s also the hard part of the business. It hurts to have something you worked very hard on denied, but it’s what you do with the rejection that counts. You either give up or push forward.

Ant Press replied to my manuscript on Friday morning. They sent me a glowing rejection slip. How can a person get a glowing rejection slip? Well, they had a lot of good things to say about my memoir. It just didn’t fit their market.

Here is a section from the rejection letter that puts a smile on my face.

“You write very well, and you’ll be glad to know that we found a lot to like about your story. You have an engaging ‘voice’ which will make your readers warm to you. Your confident use of dialogue to move the story along is commendable, too. Few writers understand how important it is to use plenty of dialogue, but you have grasped that. You write very directly without bogging us down with unnecessary flowery language, which makes your book easy to read. We liked your use of fragmented sentences to create drama and we enjoyed the inclusion of your thoughts.

“There is no question that your themes will resonate with many. The troubled childhood, the bullying and abuse you have suffered and the despair you felt. The garage escape and the discovery of the power of writing: ‘As my pen raced across the paper recording a fanciful daydream, I felt my soul pour down through my fingers.’ are all touchingly described and poignant.”

This tells me my manuscript is good and it’s not bad writing that got me a denial. I celebrated the positive, but I still felt like I got kicked in the stomach. I have been submitting short stories and essays since I was in high school. I have a box of rejection letters. I should be used to it, right? No matter how many times you get rejected, it doesn’t get easier. It’s one of the hardest parts of being an author.

I had my hopes high. I figured Ant Press would be the one to publish my memoir since their specialty is memoir. When they requested the full manuscript, I was sure they would love my manuscript and offer me a contract. I didn’t do much research into other publishers because I was confident I would get a yes, even though I know that most writers do not get accepted with the first submission. I bragged to everyone that my book was going to get published. I was flying high.

For a week I checked my email several times a day, hoping for an answer. Then on Friday there was the answer. As I read, “Sadly, we don’t feel we can offer you an Ant Press contract for Escape to the Family Garage,” I dropped from my high like a plane spiraling out of control. Tears threatened to fall, but I fought to stop them. My whole world crumbled. I wanted to cry, to scream and crawl back in bed, but I couldn’t. I had to prepare to go to work.

My husband called me to make sure I was up for work, and I told him. He told me not to give up. Then I called my friend and fellow memoirist Amy, and she gave me a pep talk. I read her the letter and she told me that it’s good news that they found good things about my memoir, and they took the time to consider it. She encouraged me to pray about my next step and to push forward. She told me the positive news is that they complimented my book and that meant I had a good, finished manuscript.

At work I mulled over the rejection and my next steps. Should I self-publish, or should I research other publishers? On my break I opened the Kindle app on my phone and browsed through publishers in Writer’s Market, a book that lists publishers and information about what type of work they accept and contact information. I found a few who accept memoir but not many with my topic. This discouraged me even more. I had saved up a lot of money for my book, but when I had carpal tunnel surgery, I had to use some of it for our mortgage. With what I have left would I have enough to self-publish?

While working my mind swirled with different thoughts about writing and work.

Will my book ever get published?

Why are the dang customers yelling at me because we got rid of plastic bags? I’m stuck, just a cashier people yell at for life.

Everyone says publishers only publish memoirs of famous people. Getting published is a hopeless dream.

Dang, people Ninety-nine cents for a reusable bag isn’t that bad since can use it plenty of times. I so wanted to tell my customers I was going to get my book published and instead I’m arguing about the cost of bags.”

I’ll never be able to afford to self-publish. I only have three hundred and some dollars. It’s hopeless.

After work I rode on the exercise bike while Cheryl cheered me on. She listened while I hacked out a plan. I will research publishers and self-publishing. I will give myself a week or more before I make any definite decisions. First, I need to feel the hurt, sort my feelings, and then decide when I’m thinking clearly.

Cheryl told me how proud of me she is. Several years ago, when my mental illness was at its worst, I would have bawled my eyes out and given up. I would have seen the rejection as the end of my life. Now I feel the emotions and plan to push forward. This shows how far I have come at taking control of my mental illness.

My determination to get published will help me strive to be stronger and more determined. I stand in the light as a strong woman ready to push forward.

Mental illness can be debilitating, leaving those who suffer with lack of energy, paralyzing fears, lack of will to take care of themselves, inability to make rational decisions, and more. Some can push through the symptoms that leave them feeling useless while for others illness is so bad they need constant care. The family members of many who struggle with mental illness believe they cannot do anything for themselves. Family members take over their care and cater to them like they are helpless children when they are not. Mental illness is debilitating, but that doesn’t make all who suffer with it helpless.

When my illness was at its worst, I couldn’t sleep, I had a hard time keeping food down, I was fatigued, I couldn’t make decisions easily, and my thinking was irrational, yet I forced myself to get up each day and go to college. I fought to keep awake during my classes and I got sick in between classes, but I kept good grades. My illness tried to keep me down, but I pushed myself to go on. After classes, I hid in my room. I self-injured, I planned my death, and I cried uncontrollably, and yet I still found a way to study. I even got good grades.

It would have been easy for me to just give up and fail out of college. Unfortunately, many who struggle with mental illness do give in and their families stand by and allow them. Some believe their sick family members need to be waited on and allowed to just give in. They see the ones struggling as helpless when they are not.

I know a woman who has a sister with mental illness. The sister gets depressed and sleeps the day away. The healthy one takes care of her sister and waits on her as if she’s helpless. The sick sister has no responsibilities and no reason to fight her illness. Why fight when she has someone to make excuses while she sleeps all day, someone to cook all her meals, someone to make decisions for her, and someone who comes running when she needs something? The sister of the sick one believes she’s helping her by catering to her when she’s only taking away her sister’s reasons to fight.

The one thing that kept me getting out of bed when I was at my worst was my purpose. When I was in college, my purpose was attending classes and passing one way or another. I lived with my grandparents and kept my illness a secret from them. They helped me without even knowing it. They bragged to family and friends how well I was doing in college. This encouraged me to keep going to classes and to study. When you are struggling with mental illness, you need encouragement and tasks that give you a reason to keep going on.

When I got bad, I did move home and took a year off from college. My parents could have told me, “You’re sick, so just go to therapy and don’t worry about anything else.” Instead they insisted I get a job while I was on leave. My parents never viewed me as helpless. They knew I needed their assistance in making sure I took my medication, they reminded me to take care of myself and made sure I ate healthy meals, but they never did everything for me. They gave me reasons to get up each day and they encouraged me to keep moving forward when I felt like I couldn’t. I made meals for my parents, I took care of my own bills, I helped my mom around the house, and I went to work.

Having things to do, a job to go to, and a reason to get out of bed gave me reasons to not give up on myself and my recovery. No matter how much I wanted to lie in bed and sleep all day, I couldn’t because I had a purpose. If my parents didn’t give me that reason, I would have been like the woman I described above. I would have just sunk deeper into my mental illness and given up. Instead, with my parent’s encouragement, I fought my way to recovery.

Mental illness makes living a normal life hard, but for most, it doesn’t make you helpless. Being catered to, others making excuses for your actions, taking away your responsibilities, and others making decisions for you strips you of your purpose in life. The best thing a loved one can do for someone who is mentally ill is to encourage him and her to get out of bed, to take control of his or her life, to give him or her responsibilities, and to help him or her feel useful.

The stigma that a person with mental illness can’t work, can’t take care of him or herself, and can’t live productive lives is false. There are cases when the person struggling is so bad, they need constant care, but this isn’t true for all who have mental illness. For many, recovery can be reached with medication and therapy. There are successful people in our society who pushed past their sickness and fought for recovery to be an important part of society. We are not helpless and useless people whom society can turn their backs on. We are nurses, CEOs, bus drivers, cashiers, college students, actresses, hair stylists, and much more.

If you have a family member who is struggling with mental illness, encourage him or her to get up, give the person responsibilities, and be there to help, but not to do everything for him or her. Having things for the person who is struggling to do gives them purpose and a reason to keep going. Encourage the one suffering to reach recovery and to live a productive life. You can help your loved one, but don’t do everything for him or her.

My husband helps me manage my mental illness and he takes good care of me, but he encourages me to do things for myself. My parents did the same when I was at my worst. Because my loved ones never treated me like I was useless, but instead encouraged me, I stand in the light of recovery smiling.

With Easter weekend I didn’t get a chance to write a post this week, but I have good news to share with you. My editor, Catherine McLean, finished editing my memoir!! The next step is to read through my memoir to see how well it works with the edits and prepare three chapters and a query to submit to ant press. Ant press specializes in memoir. They reply within two weeks. There is a possibility I will get a rejection letter. If I get a rejection letter I will just keep submitting until I get a acceptance letter.

The process to publication may be a long one but I am taking the steps and I will not give up. I will keep you posted on my progress.

I hope you all had a wonderful Easter. I will have a new post for you next week. Remember He’s Risen!! Happy Easter.

On Tuesday my Esther had surgery to remove a stone from her bladder. We had to take her to the vet between 8:00 a.m. and 8:30 a.m. and leave her there. We arrived ten minutes before eight and waited for them to unlock the door. Esther whimpered and shook all the way there, and when we got inside, she tucked her tail between her legs and shook. She knew she was in a place she didn’t want to be. We kissed her and hugged her goodbye and as the technician tried to walk her back, she pulled towards us. I swallowed a tear as we left.

At home I took a nap and dreamt about Esther having surgery. I dreamt that they called and said they couldn’t save her. Lou woke me up at 1:00 p.m. and I called the vet. Esther had just gotten out of surgery and everything went well. They instructed us to pick her up at 3:00 p.m.

She was groggy when we brought her home. I put her on the couch and covered her up with a blanket. She slept and only lifted her head a couple times to look at me.

Not too long after we got Esther, I had a detached tendon repaired in my ankle. Soon as I got home from the hospital, she was at my side lying next to me on the couch. She’s stayed at my side during a mastectomy, hysterectomy, and carpal tunnel surgery. With each surgery she watched over me, comforted me, and smothered me with love.

Esther is always taking care of me. She snuggles with me when I’m sad, she lays her head on my chest and nudges my hand with her nose when I cry, she keeps me from getting lonely when I’m by myself, and she always knows when I need extra love. She is my therapy. She gives me the comfort I need as I deal with mental illness. She’s the child I can’t have, and I owe her for all that she has done for me. Taking care of her during her recovery is the least I can do for her.

The vet technician said not to let her run or jump. I worried about her doing all the steps in our home, too so I carried her around like a baby for several days. Up and down stairs and I lifted her on and off the couch. On Friday the vet called to tell me that Esther’s stone resulted an infection. They also told me she was able to do steps. I was glad. Carrying a thirteen-pound dog around made my shoulders and back hurt, but I would have kept doing it if I had to.

Keeping a seven-year-old dog from jumping has been a challenge. I turn around for one minute and she jumps off the couch. When my husband goes to work in the morning I have him put Esther in bed with me, but she won’t stay. She knows she’s not allowed in the bed while he’s home. I put her down and she goes to her bed. I fall back to sleep and when I wake up, she’s back in bed with me. She waits until my husband is gone and then jumps up onto the bed. Each time she jumps I check her stitches to make sure she hasn’t broken any open.

When she must go potty, I put a leash on her to walk her around the yard, so she won’t run. She thinks she should go for a walk and pulls towards the gate to our fenced in yard. I have to walk her several times around the yard until she decides to go. Sometimes she tries to stand on her back legs and put her front paws on my leg. I try to instruct her to stay down.

Taking care of her after her surgery is the least I can do after all the times she has taken care of me through my surgeries. I’m not sure if she knows how much she has helped me and continues to help me. She’s more than a dog to me and I would do anything to keep her well. She fills my heart with love and light. She makes my days brighter.

The good news is she is healing well and is no longer peeing blood. She doesn’t need to go out as often, she has less accidents, and she no longer strains to pee. Knowing she is feeling better makes me feel good. On April 20, we must take her back to the vet to check her incision and her urine. If the infection is completely gone, we can take her off the prescription food and put her on Purina. The prescription food costs a hundred dollars. Purina will be much cheaper.

In June of 2016 my dog Elli slipped a disk in her back which paralyzed her back end. She was in a lot of pain, and we had to make the awful decision to put her down. I took her death harshly and I cried over the phone to my mom, telling her I couldn’t keep putting my baby dogs down. I told her I was never getting another dog again. As time passed my grief lessened and Lou insisted we start looking for another dog. He knew I needed the emotional support a dog gave me.

In November we started making trips to a local animal shelter. We looked at several dogs, but none of them was right. Many of the dogs were big ones and I wanted one that would snuggle up on my lap. We kept up our search. A few days after Thanksgiving we went back to the shelter. Lou went to the bathroom. He told me to go ahead and look around and when he was done, we’d choose a dog together.

I walked around looking at dogs of several sizes. Then all the dogs began barking except for this little black dog with white on her face, paws. and belly. She shied away in the corner of her cage. I walked over and read the name on the cage. It said her name was Esther and she was two years old. My heart melted and it was like God whispered in my ear, “She’s the one I made for you.”

When Lou came in from the bathroom, I pointed at Esther and said, “I want her.”

Lou looked at me. “I thought we were choosing together. I haven’t even had a chance to look around.”

“I know, but she’s the one. See if you can find someone,” I said.

Lou wasn’t so sure about Esther, but he went and got a worker at the shelter. We took her to a small room where we could hold her and see how she reacted to us. She went straight to me. She gave me kisses and snuggled up in my arms. That day we adopted her. When we took her home, she didn’t want much to do with Lou. Lou wasn’t sure if he liked her, but in time she warmed up to him. She started laying her head on his chest and nudging his hand with her nose until he petted her.

I decided that having children with my mental illness would not be a good idea. With my anxiety and struggles with handling stress, taking care of a baby would have been too much. Then postpartum depression would have been crippling for me. My dogs became the only children I could have. When we adopted Esther, she became our child. Plus, she, like my prior dogs, became my therapy dog. 

Esther is a snuggler. She loves to snuggle up on my lap and nudge my hand until I pet her. She gets mad at me if I have something other than her on my lap. I sit on the couch with my computer on a lap desk to do my writing. She sits at the other end staring at me, and when I look up at her she turns away. It’s as if she’s saying, “Mommy, how dare you have that thing on your lap. That’s my place.”

Esther loves visitors. When people come to visit, she runs to them and stands on her back legs begging for attention. When people sit on our couch, she goes from lap to lap for pets. She loves people. When we go for walks, she allows all the neighborhood kids to give her pets.

Esther is a very quiet and well-mannered dog. She hardly ever barks, and when she does it surprises us. She doesn’t bark at me when she’s hungry. Instead, she jumps up and down on me like I’m a trampoline. She loves to give me kisses. She also thinks she must clean me by licking my clothes.

When I cry, she lays her head on my chest and nudges me until I pet her. When I was laid up from surgeries, she sat at my side and refused to leave me. My husband had to feed her on the couch beside me and carry her outside to go potty. She follows me around the house even to the bathroom. She lies beside the tub when I take a shower. At night she sleeps in her own bed and when Lou goes to work in the morning, she gets in bed with me and sleeps beside me.

One day Lou and I went to our great niece’s birthday party and when we came home, we saw blood in her crate. It was a Sunday, and no vets were open, so I called the emergency vet. They said to make sure I got her into my vet the next day, but my vet was booked. I called all over Erie until I found a vet that would take her. The vet examined her, got a urine sample, and took a sonogram. They showed us the sonogram image. Our baby girl had a stone in her bladder the size of an egg. She’s only a thirteen-pound dog. They gave us medication and told us of a prescription food to help break down the stone.

A week later she was still bleeding a lot when she peed, so we took her back. The vet took a urine sample to send to a lab and said her stone was getting bigger and she needs surgery. My husband’s hours were cut badly at work, and he just started a second job. Money has been tight. Paying for her surgery would be a struggle, but we are willing to do anything to get our baby better. So, we started a Gofundme account. So far, we have raised $700.00 of the $1000.00 we need.

Esther is our baby and my therapy dog. We will do whatever it takes to get her better. Esther’s love and snuggles keeps me standing in the light of recovery.

If you would like to donate towards getting Esther better, here is the link to her Gofundme account. Fundraiser by Aimee Eddy : Help Esther get surgery (gofundme.com)

I’m sure you have been wondering how I have been doing on the editing process of my manuscript. I know my family, friends and customers are always asking about how my memoir is coming along. My parents are waiting to read it, but I’m making them wait until my book is published. I admit the process of editing is taking longer than I expected, but I’m lucky to have and had two wonderful editors.

The editor I’m working with now, Catherine McLean, is very good at finding the small details I didn’t think about and finding cause and effect. Cause and effect is when one action causes another one. It’s like when a child falls, causing her to scrape her knee and cry. It seems simple, right? In writing a story, it isn’t so easy. Catherine seems to find a lot of problems with cause and effect in my manuscript. In some cases I must rearrange a sentence and in others I have to add a few words or a new sentence. This leads to a lot of thinking and writing and rewriting until I get it right.

Some chapters have few errors, and some have many. Editing is a lot of work. When my first editor, Kathy Otten, sent back my manuscripts with her edits, I thought I had done an awful job at self-editing. I also wondered if my memoir was any good. I had to remind myself this was just another part of the process of making my memoir even better. Once I did the edits, I thought it was in good shape until I sent it to Catherine. Catherine found things wrong that I didn’t even think about like the color of my shirt, how I could see the closet at night in my bedroom, and of course cause and effects.

I asked Catherine if my memoir was any good after I saw all her edits. She replied that my manuscript was worth her and my time. She complimented me on how I was able to fix problems with just one sentence. She told me I’m a fantastically good writer. Her encouragements makes me feel better about my writing and the process of editing.

I just finished editing chapters 28 and 29. Hopefully Monday and Tuesday I will be able to work on editing chapter 30. Once I send the three chapters back, I will only have two more chapters to edit. Wait! Don’t get too excited. After I’m done with the last two chapters, Catherine will go through the memoir a second time to look for any other mistakes and to tie up any loose ends. I just hope in the second round she will not find too much for me to fix.

I have my query letter written. A query letter is like a sales pitch to publishers. The letter tells about my memoir and my qualifications to have written it. I must make the finishing touches on it. When my manuscript is done with the editing process, I will send the query letter and three chapters to a publisher. If the publisher likes what he or she reads, he or she will request the whole manuscript.

Finding a publisher takes a lot of research. My friend and mentor, Amy Bovaird, gave me information about a publisher who specializes in memoirs. I am also researching other publications just in case I get the dreaded rejection letter. Rejection letters are also a part of the publication process. Even J.K. Rowling received rejection letters until her first Harry Potter novel got published.

I’m getting closer to finishing the editing process, but as you can see, I have a long way to go until I hold my published book in my hand. Since high school I have dreamed of having a book published, and I am determined to make that happen. In time I will hold my book, Escape to the Family Garage: Family Love Overcomes Bullying. The title could change. Sometimes publishers change the titles we authors have given our manuscript.

I will strive to get my memoir published and make it a success when it is published. My writing helps me help others and is a form of therapy to me. It helps me stand tall in the light of recovery.