Like, miserable despite the good things, or happy despite the bad.
The last few weeks have been dreadful emotionally. I’ve been a wreck, contemplating giving up writing FOREVER SHE SAID, and Running Away To Join The Sideshow, and Walking Out And You Can Live In This Filth Without Me etc. This despite having family and friends who treat me way better than I deserve (yeah, I don’t get it either), having my book finally come out, and just generally going to parties and having a good time.
Now thanks to house troubles and car troubles we are so broke that I am scared to think about it, we have to move in a month (and I LOATHE moving), my dog looks like the photo alongside an article on animal abuse (flea allergy, poor Luminous Hound – I am trying everything), and we’re going to Afrikaburn with the spawn (and broke, ha, at least we have a few year’s burn experience) and then coming straight back to pack up a house….and I should be crying non-stop and generally wanting to stick my head in the oven, but instead I’m kinda okay?
I’m looking at all these shitty things and thinking, you know, I can do this, I’m not going to have a nervous breakdown, we’ll fix things, we’ll find a way to make do, tighten the belts and carry on carrying on. And I will work on this project because it’s the only way I’ll get better.
So, thanks, brain, for holding it together when I need you most.
I’ll spot you a beer some time.