Skip to main content

Pressure Relief

Due to various stressers I have been struggling with writing for the last six months or so, and (not for the first time) considered giving it up. My partner is almost ready to retire, and financially speaking neither of us really need to work any more. The state of the world has been hard for me to deal with, and my health issues and depressing empty-nest home life haven't helped. I like to work, and there will never come a time when I give up writing entirely, but the temptation to stop writing for a living has been strong. Here's what I discovered while wrestling with all that:

Writing stories for myself helps. I've always written stories I've never shared with anyone, but I got away from that when I went freelance. Lately I've written about a dozen short stories; I'm currently working on a for-fun novel that I'm writing a page or two a day.

I can't write well or happily without dogs in my life. This kind of surprised me, but I now realize that ever since we lost Cole and Skye I've been creatively lost, too. Now that we have the puppies I can see the difference it makes with my mood and inspiration and productivity.

I've let too many toxic family members get between me and the page. I'm done with them, so that's over now, but it was a long, drawn-out painful process of letting go.

I've become more forgiving of myself. This ties in with the self-love quest I've been on for a while now; I no longer beat myself up so much for being imperfect and unable to do everything that is expected of me. I'm still working on this, but I'm making good progress.

Focusing more on being happy than hurt is the primary pressure relief. Wallowing in pain feeds depression; reaching for light doesn't.

Comments

nightsmusic said…
A puppy is the joy your heart needs. I'm glad you're double dosed. ;)

Popular posts from this blog

Old Loves & Such

My guy kindly bought me my favorite Chinese take out the other night, and my fortune cookie offered up an interesting story starter: This sounds sweet, right? Only the first thing I thought of was an old love coming back from the dead . . . . must be October. In other lovely news, my favorite hand-dyed thread artist, Lorraine from Colour Complements , is moving her business from Etsy to her own web site. Many of my favorite sellers on Etsy are leaving due to the whole "free shipping" coercion debacle, which has also soured me on the site. To show support I did a little shopping at Lorraine's web site and got in these: I love her threads and trims; you simply can't buy anything like them anywhere. Her work makes my specialty thread box look like a treasure chest: At night I'm spending just as hour working on quilting the scrap project runner, and I'm making slow progress: I'll keep quilting the runner while I try to decide on a design for t...

Fell Off the Wagon

I did cut up that plastic dollar tote to make into something stronger, but got caught up with work and set it aside. Then last night some hand-dyed silk and pretty threads called my name, and, well . . . Felt SO good to do some handwork, except my neck began hurting about an hour into it. I tried changing the way I sit and work, but it's pretty obvious that the doc is right.

T-minus Day

This was our little Thanksgiving dinner last year, when it was just the three of us. Time keeps whittling down my favorite holiday; this year it will be just me and my guy, and we likely won't even have a turkey.* That will be a first in 35 years. I feel about Thanksgiving the way other people do about Christmas, and while it's a lot of work it's my favorite holiday. Of all the Thanksgivings I've had in the past sixty years, only three were truly terrible: one when I was a kid that I don't talk about (#1 most miserable); the time I roasted two turkeys together and hosted fifteen people whom I cooked for and served with zero help (the largest and #2 most miserable); and the one I spent in basic training (the #3 most miserable.) I have no pictures of any of those, thank heavens. In addition to doing all the cooking I'm the one who takes all the pictures, washes all the dishes and puts away all the leftovers. I suppose no one else cares because to them it...