It’s already the middle of March and I still haven’t published the next Holiday, USA series novella. I’m discouraged. I used to be able to write 1,000-2,000 words every day and often wrote more and even wrote 5,000 words from time to time. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that. I’m really discouraged. I am writing more now than I was even last month.
Telling myself a lot of changes are occurring doesn’t help.
There is no joy in knowing NM is in a care center. There is relief knowing professionals are caring for her, trained to handle her difficulties. I don’t want her miserable or scared. The responsibility is off my shoulders. There’s also an unexpected sadness. I can’t change her choices, but I can make different choices for myself.
My weight is back up and that’s always discouraging. The food is not going to do anything to improve the relationship. I read and experiment and wind up back in old habits. The never-ending merry-go-round battling my unhealthy relationship with food.
I need to learn to better handle my limited funds. I hate that I’m not smarter about spending and budgeting. Knowing I’ve improved isn’t much comfort.
Sleep, no matter how much I work on improving, hasn’t really changed. Yesterday was National Napping Day. I participated. I reach the point when I simply can’t keep my eyes open any longer or I’m so cold I can’t warm up. Sleep is the only option.
Allergy season has started early. Dear Northeast, quit hogging all the cold. Send some to the Southwest. The sooner the better.
I still spend far too much time chasing my scattered thoughts in a futile attempt to corral them and give them some order. I really hate all the blank time, simply trying to produce a useful thought.
This post sounds discouragingly familiar. I don’t want to be a broken record. I want to be an encourager, positive, uplifting, inspiring, and occasionally funny… I want the same for my stories.
Maybe I need a shake up, but then again maybe I’m in the middle of one and need an opportunity to step back and regroup. I hate being indecisive.
Ah, the joys of muddled thinking. Retail therapy at least makes me feel like I’m making decisions. Unfortunately, the budget can’t afford it.
One day at a time. Can’t do anything else. At least that much is consistent.