Life

I’ve been in a funk. Frankly an ugly, ornery, selfish funk. So, I searched my yard for any…any small sign of spring. What good would that do? I don't know. But..., I found birds checking out my birdhouses. My husband and I got busy repairing the old birdhouses with new metal plates for around the doors and straightening up the old plates still lopsided on the houses. WE’ve had tenants for five years now.

I found purple pansies blooming, daffodils emerging, and yellow crocuses. It was worth the search. The sun has some heat in it. The dark rich garden soil is exposed and I itch to get my fingers in it, but the wind is bitter. I know it's too early, but soon... and that thought may hold me for a while.

Obstacles and discouragement have dogged me more relentlessly than ever. Staying positive is one of the biggest challenges of writing for me. Things beyond my control have, quite frankly, derailed me. I try to have a good outlook but right now, that's difficult. And worse, it is mostly just life. It’s not as if not everyone doesn’t have to deal with the same things.

It's been one hell of a week…No, month…Actually, the last five years, but even before…

I'm as frustrated as all get out. I don't think it would be so bad if this wasn't the way it has gone for most of the years I've been writing.

Truth: my writing is not important to the well being of the family. Not for money, certainly. Never has been. It is only important to me. No one waits for it. No one needs it. How can you justify 'sacrificing' time when it doesn't make economic sense or time sense or emotional sense? So, how much do you sacrifice? You certainly can't jeopardize jobs, health, business.

I understand that. I know that. I've always known that, but every time I give up another day of writing, I die a little. I don’t want to. I hate that that’s what it feels like because that seems…is, so selfish. My family, my husband are the most important things. But the truth is…I feel as though little parts of me are being cut away. And sometimes I feel as if I've lost so much, I'll never be able to make anything worthwhile out of what is finally left.

And I lose fight, too. I just sometimes can't dig up the energy and spirit to keep trying. It feels so hopeless and…

Latest example: The end of February, I had a dentist appointment and unfortunately, had a cavity. They made me an appointment to get it filled. “I think I have an appointment that day.”
“Well, if you do, call us and we'll change it.”

Sure enough, I had an appointment with my kidney doctor. I called and changed the appointment to the next Thursday afternoon, neatly preserving my mornings. Sunday, my husband came home with an injured knee. A late night ER visit, a brace followed with instructions for an MRI and an orthopedic doctor visit followed.

Next morning my husband called to make an appointment for the MRI. That would have to be in the morning. Of course, the sooner the better and rightly so. We needed this taken care of as soon as possible so he could get back to work. No work, no paycheck. Simple.

I called and change the appointment I had for the repair of my compactor. The only time they could reschedule was...Tuesday morning. I've been trying to get the thing repaired for two months now. Tuesday morning, it is.

My husband called to make the appointment with the orthopedic doctor. The soonest appointment he had was Thursday afternoon, same time as my dentist appointment.

I call to cancel the dentist again and made an appointment for the next Tuesday. Thank goodness, they actually had an afternoon appointment.

Later that day my kidney doctor called: The doctor would be out of town. Could he change the appointment to Thursday afternoon? I said no, I have an appointment. The only time they could see me that week…and they needed to see me that week because I already had my labs was...Friday morning.

I took these labs the Friday morning before because I had had to take my mother to her doctor Friday morning because they only do follow-ups appointments in the mornings now. I figured I'd lose one day and get everything done that day. Oh, the innocent. I made the Friday morning appointment.

As I was in the middle of editing a short story for a contest, I got a call from the orthopedic doctor: He was called out of town for Thursday. The earliest they could see my husband would be next Thrusday afternoon. A blessing, truly. But why do I feel as if I’ve just been run over by a thousand galloping mules.

We all hear it, in every writing article. Get your butt in the chair and write.

And the famous: If you have to take your kids, parents, animals to doctors or functions take your notebook with you and write. Answer me this. How do you write when your nervous ninety-year-old mother needs distractions or your kid ask you if you saw his goal? How can you write when your husband sits in a waiting room wondering how he's going to pay his bills and needs to talk about anything else? Maybe a better writer could and would.

I live. I breathe. I have a life. I write anyway.