I should make a post here. I’ve been quite busy as of late because of the holiday season. That’s a lie. I’ve been lazy or have resigned myself to other things. Case and point. Sleeping and writing.
For some odd reason, I’ve been more tired than usual lately. I think I’m part bear. I have to be. It’s as if I have entered into some state of hibernation. I hate winter, and I hate the cold. I’m getting old. My joints ache, and I feel more resigned to being nestled in a cocoon of blankets than venturing to see the outside world… even if it is my living room.
And when I’m up and about, I have been writing. I’ve been sorely neglecting my original novel that I’m working on and have been developing one of my fanfictions instead. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Let’s just say that I haven’t felt inspired enough to journey down that road again just yet. I’d like to say that I lack creativity, but that is a lie as well. The Marriage Curse has been taking off by leaps and bounds and my mind has been going non-stop with ideas.
Hopefully, other ideas come soon because I want to finish my NaNoWriMo novel that I started back in November. Call it my New Years Resolution. I’m quite pleased with it so far and think it will make an excellently published book. That’s if I can finish it.
Speaking of resolutions, I have made none this year, except toward my writing. I saw a post on Twitter last night that suggested that if you want your resolutions to succeed you should document them on video and post them on the Internet. While a good idea, in theory, I’m sure that if I have enough drive (or lack thereof) to fail the most simple of resolutions, then I won’t find the time to make a video and post it. Not only that, I’m a shy person by nature. You probably wouldn’t know this if you knew me well, but amongst strangers, I am. And the Internet is full of them. Having my ugly mug for all to see isn’t my idea of brilliant. So scratch that idea.
No. I do have a few things planned for myself for 2014. Things I’d like to do or succeed in. I’d like to quit smoking. It’s been a yo-yo battle. I’ve never been a heavy smoker, but over time I’ll likely pay the price if I don’t stop now. My excuse is stress, and rightly so. My economic situation isn’t where I would like it to be, and I deal with a spouse who has PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) on a day in, day out basis. My resolve to be stress-free won’t be happening anytime soon. So it’s easy to dart out and take a well-deserved drag every time we argue about money or he’s in a spectacularly crappy mood and can’t keep his anger in check. It makes quitting all the more difficult.
Lastly, my marriage isn’t idyllic. I love my husband, but as age and time wear on, we face more and more problems. Finances are one of them, which can be dealt with easily enough, but throw in the aforementioned PTSD into the mix, it becomes a volatile recipe for disaster. There is a constant push and pull where he wants absolute control of everything. He’ll deny this, of course.
I get blamed for everything as well. It wears a person down after a while. You become almost institutionalized after a time and give up. Perhaps that’s why I sleep and escape to my writing so easily. It’s a good distraction. I know my husband wishes I would sit with him while he plays video games, which he does a lot of, or linger around while he rants about whatever Facebook drama has his panties in a wad that day. Lord knows if someone has a difference of opinion — albeit a stupid one — I’ll never hear the end of it. Call the presses! Someone is wrong on the Internet. So, it is no surprise that I would rather be alone in my room, on my laptop, writing.
I’m sure that there’s something wrong with me. Call it some form of depression. I don’t want to off myself or even lash out at anyone. My life simply feels stagnant, and there is no wind in my sails. I’m trying to turn that around. My first love before life and career has always been writing. I’m good at it. I’ve been published, although that is a time far in the past. I’m getting back on the saddle, doing something I love. I’m going to make something of it. That is my resolve. That is my goal.
I’m 40 now… an age where I’m neither young or old. I should be apathetic about my life, but I’m not. Call it being dead inside… numb if you will, but again, I reference that institutionalization I spoke of earlier. Nevertheless, I know it could be a lot worse. It’s a new year, and I could lament everything that is wrong with my life, but I won’t, at least not entirely. I’m not happy, but I’m thankful. I could be homeless. I could be going hungry each night. I could wake up and not have my beautiful children to see each day. So, in light of things, that is my silver lining.
I started this not knowing what to say. I guess I’ve said a great many things instead.