blog, blogger, blogging, writer, writing

Silver Dagger Book Tours: Guest Post

Hey guys, how’s it going? Yesterday kicked off a second blog tour for Dear You and I thought I’d share a guest post I did over on Silver Dagger’s site.

http://www.silverdaggertours.com/sdsxx-tours/dear-you-book-tour-and-giveaway

What’s Good World!?

Hey guys, how’s life treating you?

My intensions for this quick blog post is to introduce myself, give you the 411 with what’s what.

So to start, my name is Derra or as my friends call me D. I was born in Covina California, I have moved around a few times, but have remained a Cali chica livin’ that SoCal life of summer days spent at the beach and 50% of my diet being a mix of mexican food (carnitas tacos) and In-N-Out burgers, lol. Growing up I wanted to be a fashion designer as well as a drummer in a punk rock band. I was and still am a big fan of bands like Blink 182, Green Day, Pink, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Twenty One Pilots and Artists like Beyonce, Lady GaGa and Eminem.

How writing came into play is crazy. I had always enjoyed writing since a youngster, just jotting down the random thoughts that spun in my imaginitive mind, yet as I got older writing became more of an escape.

An escape from living life with a rare disorder, an escape from the surgeries, the bullies, my anxiety and an escape from my suicidal thoughts. I am not the most open person, emotions such as sadness, anger, grief, stress…these emotions place my mouth in lock down mode while my mind is racing DK style. Writing started as an innocent hobby, then morphed into an escape, then transformed into a career choice. More than that though, writing has helped me to heal many mental wounds, it has allowed my voice to speak, it has allowed me to take my broken story and share it with those who are going through their own storms. When life knocks us down, when we live in the darkness, we feel as though we are alone, but we’re not. I know first hand just how difficult and nerve wracking it is to speak up, to ask for help. I never understood why I survived as long as I have, especially with a disorder that was destined to kill me years ago and even though I still struggle with the reasoning as to why I am still resideing on this planet, I am certain of one aspect…I am here to to show the world that broken doesn’t mean damaged.

My name is Derra Nicole Sabo. I am a daughter, a sister, a best friend, a foodie, a coffee addict, a bookworm, a beach baby, a music lover and movie buff. I am a writer, a blogger and a survivor.

I am an underdog with a story to tell and I hope that you’ll take a few moments to listen.

blog, blogging, life, writer, writing

Four Years Ago

Four years ago…

Sitting here on the cooling sands, watching the sun kiss the moon goodnight, a fleet of memories and realities slam my mind. As the breeze calls for my hoodie to cover my chilled bones, these tears begin to trickle down my freckled cheeks. The thought of my demise never bothered me, this type of life that was cursed upon me includes death as a forefront thought that never takes a break. Yet here I am, shivering at the thought that death has finally kissed my forehead.

My past flashing by, the memories of birthdays and holidays spiral by. Watergun fights, family Bbq’s, endless beach trips, graduations, family game nights, concerts and hockey games.

Past scars temporarily unstitching themselves causing flashes of surgeries, bullies and dark times that tried to break me and damn near did.

I survived. Everything the world hurled at me and here I am still dancing.

Then my mind shifted to all the future beautiful moments I’m never going to witness.

Sharing my story with others, being their jumpsuits. Turning up the volume in ending the stigma that continues to stifle the suicidal hearts. I had plans…

Is the toxicity of my last relationship going to be what I have to try and consider love?

I’m never going to find true love, to have that day of saying “I do” to my “Jack” in front of our family and close friends…I’ll never have kids, to see them grow up, smile as they wake Christmas morning, to make pancakes with them on weekends, to watch them fall in love with the beach while enjoying an gooey s’more and bonfires. I’ll never get to cheer them on at their sports games, school plays, graduations. I’ll never get to spoil them on their birthdays or hand over those keys when they get their license.

The thought of watching my kids find their soulmates, having families of their own and being the Grandma who gets to spoil her grandkids is fading with every tear. The wish of sitting on the front porch with my partner when we’re 80 years old, sipping tea and remenicsing down memory lane was vastly slipping into the land of the forgotten.

These dreams of mine hung in the balance right beside these decisions I need to sign, seal and deliver.

Do I pull myself back into the world I swore I’d never reenter?

Do I do morph, fight and conquer once again? Do I have enough energy, enough will to do so?

What if this battle isn’t victorious…all the research I’ve done (from dietary changes to vitamins, supplements) what if it fails. Do I cave to professionals or do I punch out (PAS) while I’m still myself?

Every memory played in my mind like the most beautifully intense movie I’ve ever seen.

Every broken dream flickered in my eyes.

……………..

Four years later…turns out this world and I aren’t finished with one another yet…

Perhaps that kiss from death was for good luck in the future…

Everytime I think I’m done, something pulls me back in…

I just wish I knew what that something is because I’d like to say thank you…

I’ll be right there, but you’ll have to grab my throat and lift me in the air…if you need anyone… -Twenty One Pilots

blog, blogger, blogging, culture, life, relationships, writer, writing

Rebel

It’s crazy… I feel like more of an outcast in a community that I’m supposed to feel belonged in than I do as a human residing in the rest of the world.

Judgement is felt more amongst “my people” than it is from those who see me purchasing my Starbucks and shopping at Target.

I find myself more and more curious as to why that is…

Maybe it’s because I am a rebel.

The one who chooses to defy the statistics…the one who chooses to share my story in hopes of helping others rather than play the “victim” to gain free advancements.

Maybe it is because I live my life according to my own views rather than remain trapped inside ORs as the surgeon’s guinea pig because he knows what’s best.

Or, maybe it is mainly because I choose to find the silver lining at the end of a shitty day, knowing that tomorrow is a fresh start, rather than pull everyone into my shit storm so they’ll feel sorry for me.

So, if I don’t fit into “your world” then where do I fit in…where do I belong…

I fit into the smiles and laughter of my family and friends. I fit into the star studded universe where my Guardian Angel resides, watching over me. I fit into these bones of mine that are made up of molecules from my ancestors. I fit into the empty space inside of my future love’s heart.

I belong right here, amongst the sand, the ocean and this cotton candy sunset.

I am a rebel.

Jumpsuit, Jumpsuit cover me… -Twenty One Pilots

blog, blogger, blogging, creative writing, life, writer, writing

Who am I…

These thoughts are drifting at 180 mph throughout the curves if my cerebral. My glance is momentarily caught by the lavender almond oil that my diffuser has misted into the atmosphere. So many thoughts I’d like to share, yet where to start boggles my racing mind. So, I’ll simply leave you with this…

Goodnight…Sweet dreams…🖤

blog, blogger, blogging, creative writing, culture, life, writer, writing

Alls Fair in The Ripple Effect

Choices…

That word above is one that we practice on a daily basis. Life is strung together by the series of choices we make, each one altering the direction we take on our paths.

You…

You are in charge of every choice you make, you are the only one who chooses what pebble will create your life’s ripple.

I…

I have made both positive and negative choices throughout my life thus far, each shifting the effect of every ripple. The most important and impactful choice I have ever made was to never allow others actions towards me taint my feelings towards the world. Tainted emotions equals vengeful behavior. As someone who was bullied throughout school, as someone who was dealt a somewhat difficult situation in life, I could have easily chosen to allow the anger and hurt that was a constant during that time to poison my outlook and actions towards society. I could’ve easily taken my past and morphed it into an infinite excuse in order to disrespect and pull everyone into a bitter pity party.

But, I don’t.

Why…

Because I know first hand what it feels like to be mistreated, how it eats at your brain causing your confidence and self-esteem to diminish. I know how quickly the hurt, the depression, the worthlessness and the tear filled pain fills into every nook and cranny of your body.

I wouldn’t place nor wish that upon anyone, not even my worst enemy.

I know how just the mere thought of revenge can suck up your time, your energy. How it becomes this black toxic that invades your veins, you’ve become Peter Parker in SpiderMan 2.

Having that amount of pain residing within my bones nearly snuffed out my life candle. Never again do I want to feel that shitty.

I choose to find the silver lining, the be a better version of myself, to ignore the arrogance of my peers. I choose which battles are worth fighting, I carefully select which pebble I toss to create that ripple.

No matter what curveballs are thrown at you…No matter how many incomplete passes you encounter and No matter how many humans throw a dirty punch at you in attempts to knock you down, you have a choice as to how you react. You choose what type of energy you place towards others, towards the world.

You have a choice…

So what’s it going to be…?

Second things second don’tcha tell me what you think that I should be, I’m the one at the sail, I’m the master of my sea… -Imagine Dragons

blog, blogger, blogging, culture, life, writer, writing

Bad Rep…

Ok…I have a bone to pick with some of you humans out there. I am not one to rant, especially online, but today I’m making a virtual scene and I hope you pay attention.

Now I’ve said it on a constant loop that we are ALL born into this world with a glitch. Whether it is a physical, mental or an emotional glitch…we are all broken in some way. Now those of you who know me or have followed my blog or social media for a while now know that I was born with a rare physical disorder. Yep, I was dealt that curse card coming into this world and given a life I never asked for. However, I took what I was given, broke the rules I didn’t fancy (which was all of them) and made this life my own.

Throughout my life I have had many labels slapped on my forehead, one only ever really tore me down, most just ping off my bulletproof skin.

And now this happens… there is one label that recently caught my attention and it’s, well, pissing me off a bit.

Why you may ask. Well, because this label was created by those in the “physical disorder world “.

Recently I was out shopping, doing my own thing and a few different people came up to me complimenting me on my positive attitude. I responded by thanking them and wishing them a great rest of their day. This has been happening more and more, which nabbed my curiosity. Turns out that there are quite a high percentage of those with physical disabilities who are only capable of complaining and acting as if the world owes them. You go around causing intentional scenes in public or online everytime one small snafu is tossed into your day. You think that because of the life you were dealt that this world and the people in it are to accommodate you 100% of the time. You’re making your problem their problem. You’re making your problem my problem. You’ve created a bad reputation for the entire “physical disorder” community.

KNOCK IT OFF!

I understand that a life with a physical disorder is hard and that depending on the severity of ones disorder, well life can be down right daunting. It’s an endless battle we fight. But, guess what?! Everyone has an endless battle they’re fighting. Everyone has something that they’re dealing with. This world thrives off of balance. There are going to be times when the world is accommodating towards you and then there is times when you need to be accommodating towards the world. Be grateful for the times when kindness is shown towards you and have common sense in the times when it’s not so much shown.

Yes, there are certain times when you should speak loudly and right a wrong. But, there is a line between standing up for something and just flat out bitching, throwing a tantrum everytime things don’t go 100% your way. You have labeled all of us “one of them”.

“One of them”…

I am not one of you. Do I have shitty days once in a while? Yes. Do I have to get creative with certain life skills? Yes. Are there times when frustration hits and I wish I didn’t have this kinda life? Yes.

But, I don’t make my problem everyone else’s problem. I don’t make others feel crappy because I feel crappy. I don’t take to social media to bitch or slam on others because the world didn’t accommodate the way it was “supposed to”.

The next time one small thing doesn’t flow your way, think before you make a public or virtual scene. Perhaps in that moment the universe is telling you that it is your turn to do a little accommodating.

Enough labels are being slapped around. Quit adding fuel to the fire.

Give and take people!

PS…if you plan on twisting my thoughts and leaving a butthurt comment go right ahead. You’re only helping to prove my point.

blog, blogger, life, love, relationships, writer, writing

2 in the Morning

They say that if you pay close attention to the universe it actually sends you signs, whether towards your professional path or personal path.

As of lately I have been meditating for 10 minutes a day, mainly as an aid in helping with my anxiety and I’ve taken up Yoga for fitness plus it’s a great stress reliever. See, I’ve been off my personal game and I hate feeling so off.

Career wise I’m moving along at a balanced pace. Recently I did a week long blog tour for Dear You, will be doing a second blog tour in a couple of weeks, but this time it is a month long, I have pretty much finished my latest manuscript and am researching publishers to submit it to. I’ve started dabbling my hand at a fictional novel along with a couple other new opportunities that have come my way. Slowly, but surely the writing gig is growing strong.

My personal game, well I’ll be honest, I’m struggling. I have no queries with myself persay, I know who I am and what I want in life. I’ve rebuilt my confidence and have finally gotten to that beautiful place of inner contentment. It’s been one hell of a journey taken to get to this point, a few storms nearly wiped me out, but I’m still here standing strong and grateful for the whole experience thus far.

And yet, when that infamous 2am hour hits my fears seem to invade my mind and feed off of my deep insecurities.

The other night while sitting on the patio, sippin’ on a cup of “life juice” and soaking in the lyrics to Let You Down by NF, I rolled up the sleeves of my hoodie as I was getting a bit warm and my attention was drawn to the ink on my right arm. Embedded under my skin is every defining moment of my life, it breaks my heart to know that every one of those defined moments was a storm. However, every storm brings a rainbow. This ink represents both how the world tried to end me and how I survived. This somehow shrinks down when that clock strikes 2.

You want to know where my mind goes at that hour, what that warrior ink temporarily morphs into?

At 2am that ink becomes my demise, I run my left hand across that tatt and wonder if this is actually the reason why I haven’t found love yet. Is this actually my label signifying that I am “damaged” rather than a “warrior”? Will certain traits such as my personality, intelligence, my heart ever count for anything? Or are physical features the only aspect that is priority? If so then I am truly fucked, all because of these scars from those surgeries and a life cursed by a rare disorder. All of which I have zero control over. A life that I never asked for, but took and made it my own.

I’m beginning to wonder if my fate will ever mirror the image of Jack & Sally that’s embedded on my back.

Honestly, real talk here…I’m losing this tight grip I have on my faith in ever finding my missing piece.

See, I’ve been searchin’ for somethin’ out there, when is it comin’? Tell me what to tell myself… -Machine Gun Kelly