Taking care of myself: check. Getting really bored: check.
I was right to treat myself as if I was ill. I was! Now I’m on the other side of it, stuff draining out of my head. Getting over it quickly, thanks to all the down time and juice and vitamins and throat lozenges. But I’ve run thru every film I’d recorded off telly. I’ve napped as much as possible every afternoon. I’ve played on my computer and eaten more than I usually do. *sigh* And it is boring.
Suffered thru a few days of lousy internet access. Whether it was the fog and rain we had, our provider, or just the left over hiccups from getting hacked, I couldn’t get online. Everything timed out. Glad to be here today, to have access again. Didn’t really want to say to my bro that we HAD to get that stripped down internet tablet for me right now. Yeesh! Money scares. Do not need any more of those.
Heard from J. He’s found a lump, and he’s panicking. Can’t blame him. I’d be doing the same. It took me a few hours to reply. Just…didn’t know what to say. So I re-read his message. Tried to read between the lines, because his words were all technical: a bit of medical history, a description of what’s going on, etc. If you’re old enough, you know what I’m talking about. You’ve received one of these messages from someone you care about. The slight disconnect the message has, the total and utter stand-still shock and fear – it all comes thru. No matter how it’s put, it comes across blunt and shocking, because the news is shocking and they’re just putting it out there. Boom! I’ve found a lump and I’m scared I have cancer and I’m seeing a doctor on Wednesday. I’ve been in the mindset that creates that type of message. It’s shock and fear. Did what I could in my reply to address all he didn’t say to me. Told him his first priority is to chill, if he can. Getting himself wound up with worry will only compound the problem. Taking care of himself, no matter what that looks like, is his second priority. I thanked him for sharing, knowing how hard it was for him to tell me his news. I assured him he was doing the right thing, going off to the doctor right away. And I told him I loved him. I said what I knew I needed to say, right then and there. How much he means to me. How grateful I am to have him in my life. I have lived too long to do anything else. Say it, now.
Read thru The Grove again. I want to fall out of love with it a bit. Get myself used to the thrills and chills so I can see it clearly. But I’ve already begun changing a word here or there. Thinking of two passages that are clunky, and how I’d like to re-write them. And I need to go back out and check on the horror market. Length, pay, rights… Sort it all out (again).
Been contemplating writing. In general, as an abstract, as well as specific story lines. I remember the all hallowed phrase that was hammered into my head as a young kid. Probably by some wanna-be hack. Write what you know. That’s what I was told: write what you know. But that’s all I was told. Not how to discover my voice, not how to turn that rather cryptic four words into something real. My question at 19 was always the same: But…what do I know? The life of a young woman in the Midwest during the 80’s. To me, it was boring. Normal. Average. I hadn’t yet learned that my life was far from average; that would come later. I was not hailed as a wunderkind. The people around me did their best to keep me down, as a matter of fact. I wrote fantasy and sci-fi, because those were the genres I read and loved. I did okay. But I still hadn’t accessed the real me or what I really knew. Now, it’s clear to me. There’s one thing I really do know. One thing that’s been my constant companion thru the years, day after day: fear.
Never would I have thought that I’d throw all my angst and anxiety into my writing. Never in a million billion years. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to handle my own fear, much less write about it. Thank the Goddess for the Netherlands! Between the culture, the health care, and re-wiring my brain to learn Dutch, things have really changed for me. I have a handle on things, or at least I feel like I do. I don’t panic at every drop of the hat. That’s immensely useful. The bluntness of Dutch society, the confidence these people have… There’s very little negativity. I mean, the Dutch will tell you if they think you’re an asshole. They won’t hold back. They’ll call you out on every uncomfortable thing you do. So they think themselves negative. But by being upfront about that rather than passive aggressive, they nullify the effect and come off as positive. At least, to me. I love it. I have been amazed at the stories I’ve heard and seen: the support amongst family and friends, the kindness to strangers, the incredulity I receive when I share my very different experiences.
This quiet place built out of the ocean floor… It’s true healing energy. I felt it the first time I holidayed here, and am now enjoying the benefits of daily contact. This is a safe haven, not just for ocean faring ships, but for your soul.
I am home.