Tag Archives: depression

Happy Sunday

It’s been a lazy, lazy day here in Nopelandia. Either I am not sleeping enough, or the depression has its claws in deep. Right now, I cannot be sure. I’ve that foggy-headed thing going on. And yeah, it’s been like that pretty much since getting the call about my Dad.

Speaking of… It has been almost a month, and it still doesn’t feel real to me. When does i sink in that someone is really gone? When does the depression and anger and pain leave?

And don’t get me started on how this has affected my writing. Slowest writer in the world, right now.

But I’m doing it. Every day, I write at least 500 words. Crap words. Complete and utter crap. But write them I must, so I do.

I just installed the Blogger app on my new Samsung tablet. I had completely forgotten about my blog there. It’s my book review site, but I haven’t used it in 5 years. Oops. So, now I have to remember to do that, lol. No fears, readers  – if it is posted there, it is also going to be posted here. I love Wordpess.com šŸ˜‰

So, there’s a bit of Catch Up with your favorite non-author. I do hope to be back to regular posting soon. Today has been a big do-nothing day, which means I’ll be up at dawn tomorrow to compensate.

Enjoy your Sunday!

My Father

Today, I am attempting to distract myself from the fact that I said good-bye to my father yesterday. It was the worst moment of my life, and it was the best moment ever – to repurpose the famous old line (Thank you, Dickens). See, my father had Inclusion Body Myositis and Pulmonary Fibrosis. In the last few years, he lost his ability to walk so he was in a powered wheelchair. He also lost the ability to eat, and was forced to get his nutrition through a feeding tube. This is a man who loved to cook and loved to eat (although he was more sensible about it than I). He was a man who loved life, and who lived it.

Last Friday, my wonderful daddy went to the ER to have his lungs suctioned, which is something he had to have done as pneumonia is a regular side problem of the IBM. While there, he went from alert to completely unfocused. They rushed him to a nearby ICU, and I arrived in the middle of the night after a six hour drive. Saturday, they told us we would need to make a decision – and soon. Sunday, he was alert and seemed to be improving. Monday we went home. Yesterday, we returned because he had gone back downhill. The decision was made for us because my dad, despite being the strongest person in the world, did not want to be kept alive on life support. Neither do I, by the way. Let me put this out there now – like my father, I am refusing life support and I want to be cremated immediately.

So, I was by his side as he gasped his last breath, his hand in mine. My wonderful step-mother and her niece sang him into Heaven, and I can think of nothing he would have wanted more. I am not a person of faith, but my father was. And his faith brought him comfort, which brings me comfort. I know that he is pain free, and walking again.

But today, I need something to distract me from the pain so I turned to research. Specifically addresses and numbering. I found the best website for information on house numbering and street names. After reading this, I have decided that it doesn’t necessarily matter what I number a residence – as long as I get the street names right.

At the bottom of the article, there is a paragraph with some wonderful ideas. I am already incorporating them into the project I will be burying myself in so that I can manage the pain. Let me share that here with you, too.

The lack of precision or regulation in the naming of streets and numbering of houses offers any number of opportunities for messages to be mis-delivered or to otherwise go astray in a Regency romance novel. Perhaps the intended recipient of a missive might live on one of those streets which shared the same name as one or more other streets. A footman or maid new to the metropolis might not realize there were two George-streets and took a secret love note to the house with the right number, but on the wrong street. How might that unintended recipient respond to that communication? Or, perhaps an orphaned young lady and her siblings come to the city to seek their reclusive guardian, but cannot locate him because he has never put the number on his house? Mayhap a French spy comes to London on some nefarious mission but is confused by the house numbering scheme and is delayed in meeting his English contact. Dear Regency Authors, how might you employ the mish-mash of street naming and numbering in Regency London to advance your story?

What about you? How can you incorporate this into your current project?

Update

So, who caught this stupid cold making the rounds right now? If you guessed me, you win. I’ve been trying to get back to this blog for weeks. But there just isn’t any motivation. I set myself too grueling a task and I failed. It was really frustrating.

And frustration leads to… More failure? Ugh. Depression. Feelings of not being good enough. Bet you know the drill.

11150617_10205646100368148_8483514894847707659_nĀ This is my cat, Parker. You can call him Prks – I do. Pretty stinking cute, right? He has three legs – he’s missing a hind leg. That puts him at a disadvantage because his jump skills aren’t on par with other cats. He climbs really well – digging in claws and pulling himself up. He never gives up, either. Never doubts himself, even if he is scared of everything.

Would that I could be as strong as my cat, eh?

Well, I recently made a decision to stop dwelling on the negative. I am (almost) forty damned years old. Why the hell am I letting negativity and shame or hate rule my life, by allowing them to sway my feelings? You know what that does, right? Turns you bitter, builds knots in your innards that will (not so) slowly kill you.

I’m not ready to die. Not in the slightest. In fact, as I face the barrel of 40, I find a renewed interest in life. Specifically, island life. While I would certainly love to pick up and move to the U.S. Virgin Islands tonight, as an adult I have responsibilities. Specifically, responsibilities to my husband. We’ve come up with a compromise – Hawaii. And I want to make sure we enjoy the time we have there to the fullest, so we’re saving as much as we can for 10 years – and getting as healthy as we can, too.

Anyway, I’ve sort of lost my train of thought. See, here’s the thing – I started my Serial Sunday with the intent of developing the back story for my male lead, Duncan. But it wasn’t necessary. Not only did I change the background story so that his parents have a happy marriage (if not a happy ending), but there’s that whole Dragon Horde and whatnot. It had zero business being in my historical romance.

A Gaslamp Fantasy, on the other hand? Yes. Especially one centered around dragons.

No, I have not abandoned Midnight Garnets. Absolutely not. I’ve just realized where all that other stuff belongs.

That said, there are going to be some changes going forward.

One, I am dropping the Serial Sundays – for now. I love the idea of serializing a story, whether here on my blog for free or on a site where people pay to read it, but it has to be an actual story. One with at least a theme and an idea of a plot. I love the idea of audience participation guiding the story. What about you? Interested?

Two, The pieces I share going forward are going to be from stalled projects or something I am reading. Something that I own. And even then, just tidbits – ten lines or less. Perhaps my favorite line of a story or one I think readers will enjoy. Something to get you involved in what I’m reading.

Three, I am definitely going to be sharing more from blogs I follow through reblogging or pressing – or whatever we are calling it these days. There’s so much good stuff out there right now. It needs to reach everyone.

So there you have it. Also, I need to find a legit way to bring in extra cash to put into my savings account. Any tips?