When you don't have the words.
On not being able to write through grief and difficult transitions.
Grief has taken writing from me, it seems. Or maybe I’m just being dramatic because this, technically, is me writing. I’ve had a draft about the magnitude of this back-to-back loss I’ve experienced since the first loss. Writing in my Notes app on my phone, in a draft on Substack, and even a draft on my Remarkable. I’ve tried to sit down and finish it, let the words flow. But nothing. Just fragmented thoughts, pasted captions, and feelings I can’t yet name. Or maybe it’s just not wanting to accept that this has actually happened.
Book-writing has been nonexistent. I’m actually pretty bummed about that, but I have been unable to will myself to change this. I still think about my book often, talk about it often, and have folks ask me about it often. But I am not writing often. I’ve given myself grace because of how disorienting life is right now, but I know the longer I go without writing, the longer the world goes without a needed piece of literature.
I must admit, as much as I praise my meds for doing their job, I have been a bit.. lax.. on taking them. A missed dose here. A later than late dose there. And I’m sure that that has probably added to my sinking mood. But I’ve been consistent for a few consecutive days, so I think we’re good. I’m grateful that even, still, they’re doing their job… mostly.
I’m currently reading a spicy romance novel because I need to get lost in another world that isn’t mine. Something light and fun. If you peruse through my Read tabs on Goodreads and Fable, you’d see that fiction and romance aren’t typically my go tos when it comes to literature, but I needed something different for a bit. Although, according to my wonderful friend Yetti, I need to “stop reading other people’s books when people are waiting to read yours!” Anywho, I’m reading this book and one of the characters thinks “But really, this morning was becoming almost violent in its ups and downs. She felt slightly nauseous and somewhat unsteady on her feet.” Though the character and I have two different kinds of life going on, I felt so seen. That’s exactly how life feels right now.
My daughter is moving to Ohio with me. Her father, who was adamant about having her full-time, has since decided that he’s “not fit to be a full-time parent” and wants “his freedom” (all his words), and so she’ll be coming to live with me in Ohio full-time. This decision has brought both great joy and excitement, but also anxiety and worry. I moved to Ohio to catch a financial break. I’m currently living with my mom rent-free, and I accepted a job that meant a hefty pay cut because of this. I also sold almost all of my furniture and non-sentimental belongings. Now, I’m suddenly thrown into an apartment search and a need to rebuild a home life sooner than I thought I’d have to. It’ll all work out, though, and my daughter will have a better home life because of it. So if y’all see me hustling paid subscriptions a little louder these days, you know why.
I’m back in therapy. After having my last therapy session in 2022, I decided to take a break from therapy. At that point, finding the right medication was what I needed to focus on; I had done my part to fix myself. But with everything going on, I knew I needed to be back on someone’s couch. And it has been the best decision. And it has been free. My job gives five free therapy sessions per issue, per year through EAP, and since I’ve had a lot of issues thrown my way recently, I’m racking them up. I can’t wait to see that lady next week.
Currently.
Feeling — All the things. Right now, I’m on edge. I’m driving back to Ohio from visiting Ava in Maryland in a couple of hours, and I can’t get out of here fast enough.
Reading — Still “Take a Hint, Dani Brown” It’s the sequel to a book a read last year. Book two of a three part series of sisters falling in love. I needed something light, and a bit romantic to take my mind off things.
Listening — On the drive back today I’m going to listen to “How to Lose Your Mother: A Daughter’s Memoir.”
Anticipating — Getting the fuck out of dodge. Truly. I’m emotionally spent.
Contemplating — All the plans I need to make or change for my daughter to come to Ohio with me.
Affirming — Everything always works out for me eventually.
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Sending you the coziest, warmest hug to ever exist! Navigating grief and so much life changes can't be easy. Proud of you for listening to your body, it's always the right thing to do. And you are right, it will most definitely work out.
What a tough chapter of your life. Blessings as you work to feel better, and as your daughter comes to be with you.