Nan in Search of Clarity–Day 1
It’s been a long, very hard winter and I can’t seem to get my head back on straight after the deaths of my friend, David and my dear sister, Kate, after dealing with Dee’s continuing illness and seeing my dearest pal, CL suffer through breast cancer surgery and radiation. It feels as though I’m in a fog, in a state of…I don’t know what. Not confusion exactly, but more like I’m trying to walk through half-set jello. I’m unmotivated to write or to work or to put much effort into anything at all. I’m disorganized and scattered. I have the attention span of a very small child. Even simple things like housework require more effort than it feels like I want to spend. I’m hyper-aware of my body, which is annoying hell out of me because, seriously, do I really need to be any more aware of my physical self? I don’t think so.
Yes, I managed to get my novel done and out into the world, and frankly, it’s damn good, but it was sheer force of will that did it and when it was done, I didn’t even want to look at my computer screen. I’m happy it’s out there and being well-received, but I want it to sell better and I don’t know how to make that happen without spending a ton of money or being an annoying FB and Twitter person, which I can’t do. Work is slow and I’m having the occasional panic attack because my health insurance is coming due each quarter and if I don’t work, I can’t pay it and I’ll have to depend on our retirement income to cover it.
Anyway, after crying in the dentist’s chair as the hygienist cleaned my teeth, I just got sick of this state of being, sick of me, frankly–things need to change and I need to change them. My world is feeling very small and I don’t like it. So this blog–this dumping of me and what’s in my head and heart is how I’ve chosen to deal with whatever’s going on with me. I’ve promised myself I’m going to blog every day in April. Make a real effort to commit to doing something every single day–write this blog and be honest about what I’m thinking and feeling. I don’t know if it will help, but mostly, it will make me responsible for doing one thing. I will be here everyday. It might be late, like today, but I will be here.
Also, I’m going to commit to ending each post with five things I’m grateful for that day. So today, my five things:
- My sweet husband, who worries about me and loves me, even when I’m crazy
- My kid and Grandboy, who always, always make me smile, no matter what my frame of mind
- Allisonville Christian Church and the warm welcome we received on Sunday
- A long walk in the sunshine at the park
- Being able to be some comfort to my niece and nephew as they struggle with the loss of their dad
8 Comments
Margie
Nan–I think it’s called grieving. Don’t be so hard on yourself–you’ve had a lot of loss in the past year, so if you were hunky-dory, than you should be concerned.
I love your list of five things. I have a friend who started that on FB after her mother died a couple of years ago. And she’s still doing it. Except she only does three things–and I’ve kinda gotten over how wonderful her kids are. I’ve met them, they aren’t that great all the time. LOL. Sorry, I dipped into negativity.
I think this is going to be a good thing, though. I can’t wait to read your next installment. Love you!
Nan
Hey, Margie–I think you’re right. That’s what it and I simply need to let myself do that and stop expecting to be “over it.” The gratitude is for grounding because although I’m not a ranter by nature, I could see that happening. Thanks for being with me on this journey, Margie–we’ll see where I’m at when the 30 days ends. <>
Liz Flaherty
The catharsis begins! A lovely post, and you’ll be fine. You will.
Nan
Hey, Lizzie–with friends like you by my side, I do believe that. So glad to have you in my corner, baby! Bises!
Robena Grant
You’ve been through more than most could handle, and in such a short time period. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you stopped writing for six months and used that time to get out in nature. Spring will arrive soon and that will help. A little sunshine, fresh air, go back to the lake. Think of you and give yourself space to grieve and remember and heal. The writing will still be there when you return.
Good luck with the book! I love your writing! 🙂
Nan
Thank you, Roben. I’ve thought of letting the writing go for a while and trying to get my head back where it belongs. I’m afraid to stop entirely, thus, this blog. So glad you came by and I appreciate your words and concern. And thanks–I’m glad you’re enjoying the books, too! <>
Matthew Peters
I love the honesty of this post, Nan. You really know where you are at. Some humongous challenges have come your way, and you’re dealing with them. It is an indication of your grace that you remain grateful amid your trials. I wish you all the best, and I look forward to each and every post during April. Congratulations on the publication of your latest novel!
Nan
Thank you, Matty. I appreciate you being here with me, it means a lot. You’re a good man, my friend.