The Undisputed Unknown

My name is Mandy (A.K.A. M.I.H. McCool) and I'm FINALLY giving Tumblr another go after plenty of persuasion from my best friend, @gingerspicelattemix. 🖤

What do I do? Well, I'm primarily an author. I have several published books, and right now, my main genres are:

Horror

Psychological Thriller

Dark Fiction

Supernatural Romance

Historical Fiction

My current series follows the misadventures of a 188-year-old immortal boy who contracts people for the endgame of devouring their souls. The latest novel is titled "The Immortal Perception," with a short story collection titled "McCool Mythos: Wicked Ones."

ANYWAY. I plan to get back into this platform to post some of my one-shots and cool photos of my decorative sensory potions that I hand make! ✨️

This equals out to be a little over sixty-five years; an additional month and twenty-three days, to be exact.

Doesn't seem to make much sense, does it? For whatever reason, nearly twenty-four thousand days just seems... well, too few days when compared to a number like sixty-five years. But I assure you: somehow, someway, a lifetime was lived between May 1st, 1959 until breakfast on June 24th, 2024. 23,796 days between those two otherwise ordinary dates.

I can't tell you how many days were wasted. I can't tell you how many days were wished away in an effort to make the few good days arrive sooner, only for those moments to pass by just as quickly as they came. I can't tell you how many minutes ticked by at a snails pace when, in reality, time continued to march on without so much as a shudder. It always does. It always will.

23,796 days. Would it have mattered if you managed to reach 24,000? Probably not. It was made clear from the start that any length of that lifetime would have resulted in the same. Opportunity after opportunity wasted away, and in the end, all that is left are a few dusty, sharp memories, and a plastic box filled with an amalgamation of yours and God only knows who else's cremains.

How many of those days were spent discovering yourself, learning who you were, and deciding where you fit within this mess of a world? How many of those days did you actually want to exist? And how many of those days did you regret the decisions that seemed to weigh you down to the point of simply not caring for anything at all?

I suppose much more important than that, how many of those days were spent feeling genuine happiness? How many of those days made the rest worthwhile?

23,796 days. And now all that remains is a five pound eight ounce box that seems much heavier than it should.

Something I wish I had more of as a child is the support of a dependable village. I was fortunate to have my paternal grandparents for a portion of that time, but once they were gone for one reason or another, my brother and I only had each other to depend on.

And it was horribly difficult.

That's why I take my position as "TT" so seriously. My nieces and nephew will ALWAYS know that their aunt is right there, right in the middle of life and all of the day-to-day musings of growing up.

Some might look down on people (especially women, unfortunately) who choose for whatever reason to not become parents, but many of us are called to be villagers instead! I absolutely adore the family dynamic we have created and know that my place within our tight, secure circle is important.

Since the age of ten, I have made it a personal mission to take account of my life through journaling.

To the best of my ability and circumstances, I always strived to be as open and forthcoming as possible with each entry. Alzheimer's is, unfortunately, a common diagnosis in my family history, and even at the age of ten, I was terrified of forgetting. Forgetting what I have been through, what I have sacrificed, and the things I've seen and felt along the way - complete with code words only I knew the true meaning behind when certain family members would read through my entries detailing the inner workings of a typical ten-year-old's fragmented perception.

Looking back on those dozens and dozens of old notebooks that have accumulated over the years is a testimony of a life lived in the best way I knew how to manage. It's a wealth of knowledge in its own right, one that I feel incredibly fortunate to have to look back and see how far I have come.

No matter where you are in life, record it. Take those photos of what you ate or those pleasant walks outside when the world seems to be spinning just a little too quickly. Pick up a pen and jot down something - anything - that resonates with your current being. Whatever method you find easiest, be it social media, drawing, or writing, just take a little bit of time to document yourself.

The Dramatic Distractions Spooky Bois Collection is officially LIVE!

Etsy

Or

Dramatic Distractions

There are two variants:

❤️ Original Boi - Base which attaches the boi to the cork is clear

💖 Glitter Boi - Base which attaches the Boi to the cork is dusted with holographic glitter

To celebrate, here's a special discount!

Use the code DRAMATIC at checkout for 10% off your order on Etsy (9/9/23-9/16/23) and 50% off on Dramatic Distractions (9/8/23-11/1/23)

Btw the song is:

The Dramatic Distractions Spooky Bois Collection is officially LIVE!

Etsy

or

Dramatic Distractions

The winning vote by a landslide was for our bois to have eyes, so thanks to all who voted!

There are two variants:

❤️ Original Boi - Base which attaches the boi to the cork is clear

💖 Glitter Boi - Base which attaches the Boi to the cork is dusted with holographic glitter

To celebrate, here's a special discount!

Use the code DRAMATIC at checkout for 10% off your order on Etsy (9/9/23-9/16/23) and 50% off on Dramatic Distractions (9/8/23-11/1/23)

I love you all and I hope you love my little handmade spooky bois! 👻

✨️POLL TIME!✨️

So, I am trying to decide which tiny spooky boi will be used for our Adopt-A-Bottled-Ghost collection. Which do YOU prefer - Eyes or No Eyes? Make your voice heard and vote! 👻

You're all grown up now!

Just look at all you have accomplished at this point. What a wonderful person you have become! The giants that you've faced, the courage you possess, and the gravity of your successes formed from hardship and failures, not yours but still burdened, are remarkable. I only wish I could have witnessed your growth instead of actively stunting it.

There aren't enough seasons in this life or the next that will erase what was done. I'll never fully understand your experiences, and I will never be able to see from your perspective. My choices back then were based on my own past and was reactionary in an effort to do what I truly thought was best at the time. It might not seem so, but I had good intentions in the beginning.

You were born with teeth. Isn't that funny? Well, it was back then. Just imagine a little newborn with sharp little teeth, ever ready to clamp down on anything nearby. I figured this would just be another tool for you, a sign that you could simply take care of yourself while I tried to make ends meet. And you did. You raised your brother and you raised yourself in response. You never needed me.

That's what I believed.

I was ignorant. I am ignorant. The list goes on and on of the things I ignored. Soon enough, you stopped coming to me with excited chatter of the things you learned or questions you might have. Oh, you were growing up and didn't need me. The truth is that I was too trusting. I was too complaisant. I was too wrapped up with my own problems and struggles to even be present for you.

I saw the signs, and I recognized the red flags. Instead of addressing them and keeping you and your brother safe, I vilified you. I treated you as if you were competition. I put you in the position of an adult in more ways than just one, and I punished you daily and at every opportunity in which the mood would strike.

What I did was cruel and unfair. I'm ashamed of who I was and how I treated you when you must have needed me the very most. I should have been a place of comfort and protection, not fear and resentment. None of this, not one single moment, was ever your fault. Even with my insecurities and ailments, I should have been there for you. But I wasn't. I regret this every single day.

And now you have grown up - without my help. I had the audacity to be surprised when I wasn't invited to your high school graduation, any of your competitions, and I wasn't even notified when you moved across the country. When did that baby with the sharp little teeth become so adamantly independent? I reasoned that you were born that way. The more I thought about it, the more I came to the realization that you were forced to grow up alone and much too fast. Independence was driven into you from the start. And I'm so sorry.

I am sorry you couldn't be normal. I am sorry you couldn't just take dance lessons and play with friends. I am sorry you couldn't even go to school without memorizing lies of false addresses and biting your tongue against telling family secrets. I am sorry you couldn't just be a little girl.

Will this change anything? No. This isn't meant to mend a lifetime of imbalance. My only wish is that though I couldn't be the mother you needed and so greatly deserved, that somewhere in a universe littered with alternate destinies and paths that there is one in which you lived in a loving, safe, and secure home. You grew up knowing your full potential because I spoke love into you instead of constant hate. Your confidence soars, and you walk with light and passion because there is no lingering fear within the unknown. You don't have to feel more comfort in darkness. What a remarkable difference it would have made to just raise you as a child should be.

But we both know that hypotheticals only make for paperbacks. You grew from red mud and magnolia petals. I accept my part in how your life began, and I will carry the guilt of your hurt forever. My love for you was never shown, but perhaps someday it might be felt, whether that be during the calm of a storm or a brief moment of silence in a crowded room.

Those teeth are still sharp as ever.

Love,

In case anyone was slightly curious about what a typical royalty payment looks like during the "slow months" for an indie author, here you go!

I definitely don't do this for the money and never will. As a matter of fact, those four cents is exciting because that means that somebody out there is reading my stories!

Literally the PERFECT song snippet for this quote. 😭

I thought it would be a fun exercise to summarize my novel, The Immortal Perception, in AITA format - and it didn't disappoint! 😂