Here’s a weird one for me: Let’s talk about stress!
But somehow while also sidestepping any potential Real and Honest details of my life and emotional makeup.
Pffffft to that, eh?
We’re coming up on the gauntlet of the Holiday Season. I’ve Facebook reports from friends that one of the local radio stations has switched to Christmas tunes already. (Their post popped up mere moments after the news broke. Ah, social media.)
I’m in a new house–my first–and am planning the family Thanksgiving feast. One I begged, insisted, “Dibs”ed to host. My husband and my birthday’s straddle Thanksgiving itself so there’s the extra festivities (read: small bits of planning) there, too. It’s NaNoWriMo. This November, we’ve managed to have a couple snowfalls already. (Again, I think this might be because we’re new home owners and have to do the sidewalks etc ourselves.) Heck, we’re still unpacking bits and bobs of boxes.
I’m writing book 3. It’s not done and was due in to the publisher, oh, last summer.
But, this isn’t meant to be a laundry list of ‘look at how busy I am and arrrrrgghhh!’ I am well aware that many of my stresses are also my blessings.
I have a house to clean, to unpack and ready for the holidays. I have family that I love who are coming to visit and have a wonderful dinner… Heck, I have a family that worries and stresses on my behalf!
That’s really where this started out with this post. I looked outside this morning at the light overnight snowfall and congratulated myself for having covered the patio furniture but yesterday afternoon. (I had checked the forecast. Yay, me! See? I do have my s*** together some days.) And as I considered my small triumph of foresight, I wondered if my mom would call or text later with an “oh, phooey! your patio furniture will have snow on it again!” (Our first snow was a bit of a surprise.) And then I considered how, not knowing I put up the tarp, she’ll feel stress for having not given me a timely reminder to cover the furniture. And then I laughed. What an odd cycle of concern we create!
This blog is an invisible stress. It sits in the back of my mind, a gremlin I cannot feed past midnight, unwritten but fully planned posts damming up the river of my creativity and compounding my anxiety.
Where am I going with this? Good question. I think I just started out in one direction with no aim as to a route or finish line. I have no wisdom on this point. Mayhap I am merely doing a finger dance on the keyboard, the writing equivalent to going for a long aimless walk.
And yet, typically I find I cannot write during periods of major stress. My brain gets fuzzy and confused. Like quicksand, the more I struggle, the more I’m caught up in it. Perhaps you’re agreeing with me even now, dear reader. (“Yep. I can tell she’s stressed. This post? Nuh-uh.”)
I leave you now with no conclusion.
#seewhatIdidthere ? 😂