When I posted just a few weeks ago, I thought my next blog would be clever lines from my WIP and complaining about going to the eye doctor and raving about the local high school plays I’d watched.
Instead…
Well, you know. Everyone does. I logically understand what’s happening, but damn.
Just damn.
Here are some non-stressful photos from my little section of the world. Sending love from Virginia ❤️
I’ve been (sort-of) job searching. I used to have a full-time job, but my hours were cut so I got another part-time job to make up the hours, but the 2nd job ended and then my dad passed away shortly after, and I read this thing about grief that said to wait six months before making any big decisions, so…
Six months is completely arbitrary, right?
I’ve just started looking again (for another 2nd part-time gig) and have no idea what I want. It all feels overwhelming and no matter how many times my husband says, “you have so much talent/skills/awesomeness,” I’m just like…
But it’s way easier to snuggle with my cats and watch Murder She Wrote in my safe little cocoon where I don’t have to put myself out there and learn new stuff or meet new people or do anything interesting.
I feel adrift. Or maybe stalled? I’m not sure what the right word is. I’ve only recently started journaling again and reading through my WIP after a long hiatus and I’ve been reading the same book since September. Granted, it’s Anna Karenina and 2 million pages long with 1 million inner monologues, but still. I could pick up another book in the meantime.
Sometimes I think about things I’ve done in the past and wonder how to get back to that person who took day trips to the beach and wrote for hours and jumped around at concerts.
I get that we all change and can’t go back (nor do I want to go back), but it’s frustrating to feel lost and not know how to move forward.
I’m trying to take baby steps and blogging is one of them. It forces me to express my feelings which I’m not so great at. Oh, and accountability. That’s a thing. Plus, I feel more ME when I’m writing, in whatever form it takes.
My husband, in his ongoing attempt to be helpful, asked what I liked doing and I said:
Snuggling with cats, reading, writing, and watching TV.
Is there a job that combines all these things? If so, gimme gimme! If not, I’ll settle for blogging about them. Let’s say once a month or so and, don’t worry, I’ll keep it pithy, as my linguistics professor used to say.
Oh, and there will be cat pics, you can count on that.
“There Will Be Cats” should be the name of my memoir!
Normally I’m thrilled for the end of summer and humidity, but it’s bittersweet this year because it means I’ve gone an entire season without my dad and am beginning another.
Grief is a strange thing. I’ve gone days, even weeks being okay, but then something will make me emotional.
Like, I was driving one day and the song “Living Years” by Mike + The Mechanics* came on the radio. I don’t know if I’d never really paid attention to the lyrics before or if now they have a lot more significance.
It’s been hard to write the past few months. A week or two after the funeral, I had a random burst of inspiration about an old WIP and wrote nonstop for several days. But then I hit a wall because it’s a book about grief and I’m not in a place yet that I can write my character a year after her loss. She’s had time to process. I haven’t.
I’m working on another WIP now, making slow (very, very slow), but steady progress. A few things I love about it:
Friendship
Music
Little rebellions
I also love that I plotted this book. I’m usually a pantster, but I wanted to try something different and so far it’s working.
In other news, I’m gearing up for TV fall schedule. It was one of my favorite times of year when I was a kid and still is. Watching pilot episodes, deciding if I like them enough to keep watching, learning new names, and predicting plots…
It’s the little things. Like this guy. Best co-worker ever ❤️
*My title is a lyric from “Living Years” by Mike + The Mechanics. Here’s the video. It’s very 1980s.
First day of summer and I’m feeling introspective because of recent events.
I’ve experienced grief before. One of my earliest memories is from first grade when my paternal grandfather passed away. I knew he was gone, but I didn’t entirely comprehend what death was.
I did, however, understand that something was wrong as I lurked around the edges, listening to adults speaking in hushed tones. And after I watched those same adults leave to attend the funeral, I retreated to my room and squeezed into the space between my bed and dresser because I wanted to make myself as small as possible. I felt the confusion and emptiness of grief, even if I didn’t know what it was at that time.
Since then, I’ve lost another grandfather and dear cousins and relatives of my husband’s that felt like my own. I’ve cried, I’ve felt angry, I’ve played the what-if game.
But nothing prepared me for losing my father a little over two weeks ago.
I won’t go into detail about his illness, other than to say he’d been sick off and on for over a decade and he’d fought like hell through every down and tried to make the most of every up.
My dad’s death was both expected, but not. If you’ve ever watched someone you love suffer for years, you know what I mean. You’re scared all the time of it happening, but when it finally does, you can’t believe it.
It was late evening when my mom called from the hospital to tell me. I went into this sort of action-mode. I called my brothers and my dad’s younger sister. I left my best friend a message to call me when she got a chance because I didn’t want to interrupt bedtime with her kids. I unloaded the dishwasher while I waited for her to call back. It struck me that doing something mundane seemed completely ridiculous, but I needed to do something.
Everything I did the next few days felt surreal. I went to the grocery store and wondered why the cashier was chatting away like everything was normal. Didn’t he know? Didn’t everyone know? Something so big had just happened to me and my family, yet life had continued on around us without so much as a pause.
Although, in a weird way, it was oddly comforting to know that all these people had likely experienced their own grief, yet here they were, buying bread and light bulbs.
The funeral was the hardest day of my life and after I was home, on the couch with my husband and cats, my brain finally allowed me to feel sadness.
Up until that point, I’d focused on planning and details. I’d hugged a million people and thanked them for their support and said that cliché line about how I was glad he was no longer in pain, which I actually believe, but it still felt so robotic.
I truly did feel grateful for the kindness of everyone, from distant relatives I’d never even met to the veterans at the cemetery who volunteered their time to give my dad a military tribute, but I’d never felt so tired in my life.
So now I focus on the “new normal” which is a term I discovered on many grief sites. I don’t know what that is yet.
A quick recap of my year:
I read 51 books! Since my last post, my favorite was THIS IS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE by Rebecca Barrow. Such a fantastic story of friendship, forgiveness, and following dreams.
I also read a moving middle grade that I bought my niece for Christmas called GABY, LOST AND FOUND by Angela Cervantes. Prepare for all the feels.
I wrote! Or, more accurately, I outlined! For the first time ever! 21 pages! WHAT???
Excessive punctuation aside, I enjoyed the process and once the chaos of the holidays wears off, I’ll get to work on a messy first draft.
Well, I promised this would be short, so…
Here’s to 2019! May your year be full of great books, fun adventures, and lots and lots of pet snuggles ❤️
Can you tell it’s my favorite season?
I didn’t write the majority of this summer. Instead, I read books, binge watched TV, and worked my way through a towering stack of magazines I’d let pile up for months. I stayed indoors, feeling disgruntled, not only by the heat and humidity, but also because of the constant rain.
But now it’s fall, season of beautiful leaves and cool nights and nostalgia and I’m hopeful as I slowly outline CLAIRE. She’s reticent, much like a professor once told me (not unkindly) I was, so she’s hard to get to know.
Maybe by the new year we’ll be old friends?
A few of the books I read this summer:
THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF US by Katy Upperman – romantic and so, so thoughtful
DREAD NATION by Justina Ireland – The main character is kick-ass, the storytelling top-notch, and the subtle parallels between society now and then are frightening. As soon as I finished reading, I immediately looked up the sequel release date because I didn’t want the story to end.
SUMMER BIRD BLUE by Akemi Dawn Bowman – I will read anything this author writes because her words are gorgeous. Another quiet, moving story, just like her debut STARFISH.
What I’m looking forward to in the last months of 2018:
Writing!
More reading. I just started ONLY WHAT WE COULD CARRY: THE JAPANESE AMERICAN INTERNMENT EXPERIENCE, edited by Lawson Fusao Inada, and it’s already an emotional read.
Leaf Peeping – is this a universally known term or just an East Coast phrase? I live near a Skyline Drive entrance, and each fall there’s an influx of tourists we (the locals) refer to as “leaf peepers.” It’s been years since I’ve been up on the Drive and I need to remedy that.
Hanging out with my kittens. They’re about five months old now and, yes, we kept three of the four. The fourth went to an awesome home where she was immediately loved and spoiled.
I’ve had a hectic last few months and the country is metaphorically on fire which makes me anxious and angry, so I’ll make this quick.
Remember my last post when I talked about the sweet cat my husband and I rescued from a snowstorm? Well, not long after that, we noticed her getting a bit round in the middle…
Kittens!
The pics are from a few weeks ago, the last time I could get them all to sit still (and just barely, hence the blurriness). We’re keeping two, adopting two out in a few weeks. My house is currently chaos.
Also in animal news, only this time it’s terrible: I’ve had to call animal control twice about raccoons. They were definitely sick, probably rabid, and it was very sad to see.
In writing news, I finished reading my plotting book! I’ve been trying to outline, but there was a huge plot point I couldn’t figure out until a few days ago, so hopefully I’ll get back into the WIP game soon.
I’m still reading a ton, some really great books, including PICTURE US IN THE LIGHT by Kelly Loy Gilbert
Plans for the rest of the summer:
Dive into outlining, get some outside time in if it ever stops raining (the localized flooding in my area has been awful), finish organizing the box of old photos I randomly decided needed to be taken care of right now…
Remember to breathe.
❤
