I’ve spent the last 2+ months in a writing hiatus. I’ve been living deep in the fog of nausea, anxiety and exhaustion that make up the hell of the first trimester of pregnancy. My mornings have mostly consisted of:
- Rising, zombie-like from the bed to swallow down meds.
- Fight the urge to vomit
- Collapse back into bed for a few minutes of anxious googling
- Fight he urge to vomit
- Wake and attempt to feed the out-of-body offspring while…
- Fighting the urge to vomit
- Do injections.
- Get dizzy and sit down for a while.
- Try to battle the ever-encroaching chaos of the house while fighting exhaustion and
- The urge to vomit
- Suddenly get starving and eat.
- Fight the urge to vomit
- Fall asleep randomly
- Stop feeling sick for a while and hence spend an hour frantically googling as I become convinced that feeling anything less than completely horrendous means it’s all come crashing into miscarriage.
- Repeat ad nauseum (pun intended).
So, yeah, not much writing. Not much reading either as my concentration levels haven’t allowed for more than five-minute reads of Facebook and other blogs and so forth.
And there’s so much I’m excited about reading on my plate. Husband has kindly given me an early draft of novel#2 and it’s really really good. I like it better than the first one on first impressions.
A writerly friend has also given me drafts of things he’s written and I’m excited to read those too, but I keep losing my place in them and anything that creates even a 10 second barrier to entry is proving too much for me right now.
The new Becky Chambers book is out and the first two were some of the best books I ever read ever and I can’t wait to read the next one, but I’m not allowing myself to start it until I finish some of the about 6 books I’ve got in some varying stage of completion right now.
So anyway, what with today being the first of August, the first of a new month, and less than four weeks before this giant chunk of holidaying that I was living for comes to a crashing end – and what with the promise of first trimester fog starting to lift, I’m determined to find a little bit of myself inside this pulsing, hormonal, gestational skin-shell.
Sorry for that sentence. I’m pretty sure it’s completely incomprehensible.
Basically, I want to start to flex my writing muscles again. I do want to get back to the novel I started back in April. I got a bit stuck because I started doing some edits because I felt like I messed up the timeline and I wasn’t hugely enjoying the process. It was hard and tricky and it didn’t feel like I was progressing the story – even though, of course, that’s all part of progressing the story.
I can be bad at doing the last niggly bits to complete projects anyway.
Maybe it’s that whole barrier to entry thing again.
For instance, there was a career-related thing I had to do that I discovered I should do more than a year ago. But it involved me getting in contact with previous employers, and in particular with an employer in Japan. And it wasn’t entirely clean and clear-cut in the way the form expected it to be – I worked for a variety of different companies, sometimes part-time, sometimes full-time, some of which had gone under since, some of which I didn’t really want to get back in contact with.
All of which I didn’t particularly want to get back in contact with.
I have a wall in my psyche between my present and my past. I kind of like it that way and it’s protective and helps me be in the world every day. But I can’t help the feeling that I might not be being the most healthy about it. Like, it’s not like I’ve accepted and resolved stuff in my past. I’ve just locked it in a bluebeard cupboard and I only ever open it a crack when I’ve got to stuff something new in there.
Getting in contact with these places felt like I had to open that door. I mean, not wide or anything. It’s not like I was actually sorting through and clearing out that cupboard; I was just closing my eyes, pegging my nose and sticking my hand in to get out that one thing I wanted to use.
So anyway, the whole notion of it was a huge barrier to entry and it took me until this Summer to actually do it.
But it’s done! Despite not wanting to – despite barely being able to lift my body around the house some days – I actually did a thing that I’ve been procrastinating about for about a year and half. And I’m proud of myself for that at least.