Sometimes life is sucky and wonderful at the same time
So, the past two weeks have sucked. My kids spent them being sick in various body-fluid ways. Never on the same day or at the same time, of course. The stupid mortgage payment came out twice and I had to tussle with the bank getting that sorted out. My husband hit a deer going to work and smashed up the front of his truck. Cue another hour on the phone.
One of my closest friends died due to a fatal complication during childbirth that is too complicated to explain here but is unpredictable and irreversible and has an extremely high mortality rate. She was an amazing person, kinder and more loving than I could ever hope to be. I was a nanny for her little ones back when my first was born. He always referred to them as his ‘cousins’ since we hung out so much. She was so looking forward to this surprise baby and would have loved her more than any baby had ever been loved before.
The baby is healthy and strong, and I’m forever grateful for that. But I’ll be doing something and forget that she’s dead and it will hit me all at once and the disbelief and cruelty of it will punch me in the stomach. That this perfect little one will not know her mother. That her sweet children will spend the rest of their lives without her. That her husband of only a few years got so short a time with her.
I am used to death. I am an ICU nurse and people die in front of me all the time, whether by choice or because I can’t do anything to stop it. I am not a sentimental person, but I also choose to work with adults and geriatrics because I know working with sick babies and children would destroy me. I hate how much we know about the human body, yet so little. It’s frustrating and unfair and terrible.
Life fucking sucks some days.
(uiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiityyyyyyy) (One of the cats stepped on my keyboard and the ensuing scream into the void felt appropriate.)
But, the last two weeks have been wonderful. It was my birthday and my thoughtful, amazing husband of almost twenty years got me the most appropriate birthday presents, including a pair of rain pants. (I can see your eyeroll. Shut up. They’re the bomb.)
My little one and I worked on a 1000-piece puzzle together and I was reminded of how funny and clever he is. My older boy had a rough mental health day, and we spent some time together just talking and relaxing. They made me the weirdest birthday cards and hid a million little pieces of paper around the house that had some version of ‘love you, mom.’ I keep finding them in my shoes.
Some rando I’ve never met ordered my book off amazon and loved it. I bought a new ‘manly’ candle that smells amazing to add to the non-existent aesthetic of my writing desk (Husband denied my request to get a cologne that smelled like it. Someone may be getting a selfish Christmas present...) I went on a mountain bike ride (in my new rain pants) and crushed my children at MarioKart and bought chocolate croissants and I’m going on a girls-trip in a few months and next week my best friends are coming over for book club (even though it will be bittersweet without L there with us.)
I had an amazing session with my writing coach this morning, full of brainstorming and plot twists and confidence boosts. I am not doing NaNoWriMo officially, but I connected with my local NaNo group, and I am excited to network with other writers in the area. Their enthusiasm is infectious, and I appreciate that momentum as I grapple with my own literary problems.
Life has so much to offer and some days I have to pause, breathe deep of the rain-soaked air, and savor it. (While toasty warm and dry, thanks to my much-maligned rain pants.)
I have no witty punchline for this post. It was more a vibe and rant. But it helps to put this all out on paper/screen and examine my feelings one by one, before fitting them back into their respective places. Which is what most writing is, whether you intend it or not. People may and have noted themes in my writing that I didn’t mean to include. I have no pretension of a grand Ursatz behind my work that directs my characters to their fate.
But, I do not discount when people tell me Archer 887 examines the relationship between man and machine, that it questions what it means to be human, how culture shapes us and our expectations. Because if that’s what they felt when they read it, then that is what they needed to hear. If someone else reads it and thinks it is 300 pages of space opera bubble-gum, that is good, too. I have books I read over and over, just for the dopamine hit of my favorite characters doing the same stupid stuff. (It’s a laundry list, you moron! Seriously…)
Alright, word barf over. Candle out. Cats snuggled (against their will). And, to bed. I hope your day dawns brighter and better than the one before.
(See. My candle is manly. It says so, right on the label.)
Shameless self-promotion!! Get my book from online retailers in paperback or ebook. Let me know what you think. Is it bubble-gum? Or the next sci-fi juggernaut? Either way, tell Netfilx. I want to retire early.