Against the Apothecary’s Jar

In a field of white sweet clover sits an apothecary’s jar.

Inside the tightly closed and absurdly lidded glass madly hums a hundred and one bees.

It is late spring and the clover is in bloom.

Furiously the bees pound and writhe against their glass enclosure. Throwing themselves angrily against the clear, unrelenting glass, they give no thought to forewing, hindwing, spiracle or the like. They are frantic with hunger. They will gladly sacrifice little parts of themselves for a chance to taste that sweet, sweet clover…

But the glass never breaks.

The bees do.

And slowly, slowly the jar falls silent until all is lost but a dream.

…

Sometimes, living with a chronic mental illness is like this. Placed in the middle of a beautiful, thriving world we cannot reach, we destroy ourselves trying.

I do this.

A lot, actually.

*sighs heartily against the glass*

I need to learn another way…

So, here I am.

…

Starting a new blog is truly the last thing I need to do. I am a published author with 17 novels under her belt and an 18th in final edits. I already pen a daily writer’s blog (one that has been going strong for nearly 2 years now). My schedule is incomprehensible even to me. There are so many reasons not to do this… that I really, really must.

If for a moment, for a scant shutter of a breath my soul could tiptoe free from my troublesome mind*, here you will find the places I would go.

Small, out of the way spots where I could linger for weeks and let my writer’s imagination run wild and unruly.

Little known nooks in the world that I would dearly love to call my own for just a wee-while.

Perhaps there will be commentary; perhaps there will not. If there is it will be all my own. No sponsorships here.

Links will be active. Please, please go.  Testimonials of other dreamers or of doers will always be welcome.

Now, enough of my babbling.

Come, tiptoe with me up to the apothecary’s glass.

Until the first nook…

Chloe Stowe

 

*My troublesome mind consists of a chronic panic disorder that prohibits me from supporting myself beyond my writing. Anxiety and OCD-tendencies add to the cocktail which has placed me maddeningly in the jar.

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Published by Chloe Stowe

Acclaimed author of 17 novels (my dogs and mother adore me), World traveler (I’ve felt the Sahara Desert between my toes… still gobsmacked over the stars in the Sahara) And survivor (of three dirty-fighting gremlins named Anxiety, Panic and OCD)… My name is Chloe Stowe. Hello. If you’ve found your way here, you’ve most likely arrived on the coattails of my blog, The Words and Madness of Chloe Stowe. Started in 2012, my daily rantings now number in the thousands. Ranging from humorous to moody, poignant to absurd, these tiny tidbits of thought began as a way to get my name “out there.” It has long since morphed into an effort just to “be there” for anybody out there struggling with words or madness, like me. Quick biographical sketch of me? Nerd turned nut at nineteen. In my sophomore year at Auburn University, I was taken out at the knees by severe panic attacks. Chronic anxiety soon joined the dogpile, followed shortly by OCD tendencies. Oh, it was ugly. I eventually had to quit school and soon quit life, as well. I spent a good chunk of my 20’s not able to leave my room. Twenty years later, it’s still can get ugly in my head. Thanks to meds and doctors, however, I am able to lead a better life, now. I still can’t work outside the house, but I can live and smile and write. So, here I am. Broken, but stubbornly present. I hope my voice proves company to someone lonely out there. Thanks for reading! Chloe Stowe

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