Since July, when my personal life caved in on itself, I've been distracting myself heavily with work. Not only have I established myself at my main medical job, but like a crazy person, I took on another mostly full-time job managing a grant. Needless to say, my writing life has suffered. Trying to manage two full-time jobs, holiday depression, and my family, has been, well, difficult. I fell off the planet, without any idea that I fell so far or how to recover.
I'm still working the two jobs, but I *hope* think I've found a way to manage them so that I can get back to the one thing that has brought me more comfort and joy in the past few years than anything else has - writing. I miss it. I miss the stories. The characters have given me space, time to heal and find a way to recover from the losses and the near-loss I had during the summer. They've been patient, but they want to finish their stories. And new ones are waking up.
I was up last night, reoccurring back pain from life as a CNA causing me to be unable to sleep. A few things I realized about myself:
1. I don't deal with pain well. As a matter of fact, I become heinous, and mostly towards the one person who really doesn't deserve it, but is a saint for putting up with my crazy moods - my husband.
2. Arm numbness is one of the most painful things I've ever experienced. It's like having your arm come back to life after falling asleep - the tingly warmth with a million pins poking without any sign of relief. And nothing helps. Pain meds, IcyHot, heating pads, and cold compresses were all tried, none successful.
3. Chiropractors and massage therapists are amazing. They help open the neural pathways from your spine to the rest of your body and bring relief that is sorely needed. They're given a bad rap, called quacks or treated like frivolous pampering, and not utilized nearly enough.
4. I cannot, like at all, sleep sitting up - unless I'm in Bry's truck as he drives.
and 5. Damian does not do well when his sleep is interrupted. Have you ever been slowly kicked in the face, back paws pushing against your forehead until you move out of a cats space? And then, when you don't move, he sits on your head? That was my joy when I tried to go back to bed. I do believe I've spoiled the cats a wee bit.
Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I'm still here. I haven't forgotten about the stories, and I haven't given up on them. Thank-you for allowing me time to mourn and time to heal. The missing piece is still there, I'm not sure it will ever go away, but it doesn't hurt as much any more.