NOTE: Sorry that this didn't post correctly on Tuesday. It was there but apparently my internet wasn't up to parr and I didn't realize it until today. I truly apologize for the screwup. And no, it's not because of what I write in the column though me and Pup Harry are alone until late Monday evening.
I have been in a funk for a few weeks now. Bet you haven’t heard that word for a while. Some people might think it means a type of music and it does. But it also means slump or a depressed state of mind. I’ll take the latter and stick with it.
It’s been said that writers are a moody lot by and large. While I’ve seen some moody writers in my time, and ones that are pure divas if you get my drift, but overall I think that’s pushing it a bit. I rarely get depressed if you look at my life as a whole. There have only been two times that I can recall that I was so to the point of being debilitated in some way or another.
Once was when I lost a business that I loved. We were basically victims of 9/11 and bad employees. And frankly, I don’t know what depressed me more, the fact I’d just lost $200K or that the business was down the tubes. That happened nearly 15 years ago and the money has been repaid as well as recouped.
The last one was more recently. It was the passing of my father last year in late March. I took my time with coming to grips with his passing. Or so I thought. As the yearly anniversary of his death rolled around, I found myself not only in allergy hell but in the slide toward being depressed about it all over again.
It’s times like these I get my zen on. I start taking long reflective walks by myself. I think about the overall scheme of life. I read and study and just try to go with the flow in order to get past the moment. Losing someone important in your life takes a lot out of you. You want to scream why at the heavens. You want to pound your head against the wall or desk and figure out the meaning of life. Everyone goes through these stages of grief and I’m no different.
This time, however, I must do it alone. My DH is on travel and he’s spending the week at our home in the States. Lucky him. There’s only me and Pup Harry and a world full of memories that sometimes won’t let me go.
I’ve gone back to having a list just to make sure I get things done. And there are moments I feel that I’m just plodding along with no real goal or end in sight. I plotted a new series and designed the covers and decided that the website truly does need an overhaul. Yet, no matter what I’m doing, it just doesn’t seem like it’s enough or I’m making headway. It makes no sense. Then neither does death but it happens. The living must learn to deal, to keep moving forward and try to keep it all together.
How do you as a person or a writer deal with the difficult things, like death or divorce or anything similar, in your life?
Again, sorry that this is late…the allergies kept me in bed a huge portion of the day…the rest is like moving through a haze with the meds. I apologize. The picture is of me and my Dad when I was much, much younger.
Until next week…