first attempt at a new form of creating

I am not entirely sure how to write what I want to write with this post, but I know that writing has a healing effect on me, and I want to write about this. I had a miscarriage on Wednesday. I was eight weeks and one day into the pregnancy. It was the first miscarriage I had that was a confirmed pregnancy, although having experienced it, I wonder if I have had a very early miscarriage once before. J and I celebrated ten years of marriage this past December, and this was the first time we were sure I had gotten pregnant. It was after a surgery to remove some polyps from my uterus that were apparently the problem both with my fertility and with the severe cramping I always had during that time of the month. We were both ecstatic that we were going to have a baby, and had to work really hard not to shout it out to the world. We told family and tried to leave it at that. We needed help with getting me to appointments since I am not currently okay to drive because of my epilepsy. Sunday evening, I started spotting. (I think it was Sunday. I was napping and exhausted through all of this, and the days were a blur.) I went to the doctor on Tuesday and got my HCG levels checked. They were borderline okay. I was told to rest and not do any strenuous activity. I obeyed that counsel to the letter, hardly getting up unless I needed to eat or use the restroom, or unless my dog needed to go out and no one else was at the house. (It would be easier on me to take him out than to clean up after him.) On Wednesday, I continued to bleed, and we went in to get me checked again. My HCG levels were down significantly; I had lost the baby. I had cried a lot while I was wondering and waiting after things started to take a turn for the worse. I didn't have very many tears left in me. At first, I felt numb and frightened. Then I felt peace. I don't know when a spirit joins with the body of a baby to make the living soul - if it is in the womb or after birth or somewhere in between. I felt that one of two things had happened. Either the baby was such a noble spirit that he/she didn't need to be tested or to learn in mortal life, and is already waiting for us in heaven, or if the spirit had not yet joined with the body, this little one is still waiting impatiently for another chance to come and join our family. Either thought is comforting. I don't know which way it works, or if there is something else going on that I can't quite comprehend with my mortal perspective. But for all of my tears and disappointment, I do feel that all is well, that the Lord knows what He is doing, and when the time is right, He will bless us with children. I will be able to join in that pinnacle of creativity and help to bring a new life into this world. It is a matter of waiting on the Lord's timing. In the meantime, I am comforted to know that I can be certain that I am able to get pregnant - my body is capable of it. For many years I was not sure of that. My husband and I will be able to create a new life and teach and raise the little one. When that happens, it will be a great joy.

feels more like i'm writing again

I worked on the novel some today. I didn't get a whole lot done, just my baseline 750 words of rough draft goal, but it felt good to actually get some work done on it. It felt like coming home again. Yesterday was also writer's club day at the public library, so I got some feedback on the novel. That also helped me to feel like I was making some progress, and to see the novel on a larger scale rather than focusing on the hiccups and bumps you always seem to encounter in the day to day rough draft writing. I have had happy news and sad news in large scale in my life recently. I won't go into the details, but it makes me stand back and realize how much life is prone to changing without our knowledge or permission. Maybe I need to incorporate that more into the novel. I believe I've got it in there to some degree already. It feels good to write again, even if I am still rather fuzz-brained.

Creativity calling to me

I still feel like junk. When my husband left for work this morning, he put me under orders to take a nap as soon as I finished with the vital stuff like eating breakfast and taking my morning meds. I just woke up from the nap, and I still feel fuzz-brained, but I also want very much to write. I find myself missing the characters I have created in my novel, missing both the creativity and the adventure of discovery inherent in writing some on it. I have been writing the novel down on my to-do list even as I have been feeling icky. I haven't crossed it off in a while, but it has been there, a reminder that I do want to work on it. I think I will actually try to work on it today - test the waters and see how I do, even with my mind feeling more like pudding than crystal clear water. We'll see what comes out of the pudding.

still human

I haven't written a whole lot in the last while except for my morning scribbles - the free writing I do every morning when I am doing light therapy. I am experiencing the evidence that I am still human, and my health gets frail sometimes. I am trying not to get too frustrated by it. Epilepsy is decidedly not my favorite thing because when the balance gets thrown off, it can take a while and some finagling to get myself as close to functional as I can again. In the meantime, I am trying to do what I can, and trying to maintain the balance of feeling somewhat vaguely useful and not pushing my already stressed body and mind too much. I haven't been sleeping very well, and I've been having strange dreams, which is evidence that I am worrying too much about being on a downswing as far as my epilepsy goes. I've already gone through feeling frustrated about it this go-round. Now I am trying to focus more on what I can do, and trying to enjoy the down time. Not everyone gets forced down time like that. I don't always succeed in being as optimistic, but I am trying to be. If nothing else, there are a lot of blessings and positive things happening in my life too. I can observe everything that I see happening around me, even take some notes when something strikes, me, and when I feel a little better; when I don't feel so fuzz-brained and disconnected from the world as I do right now, perhaps I will write about it and find a story line in there.

I wrote today. Those three words mean a lot to me right now. I am at a point where I let myself get intimidated out of writing easily. I seem to have so much else to do, and there are no guarantees with writing. It is a hobby, a long shot dream that might not ever amount to anything. Why should I keep up with it so obsessively? The reason is simple, even if I lose sight of it rather frequently. I write because it is lifeblood to me. It helps to keep me (somewhat) sane. It helps me to keep perspective in my life. It is my favorite means of creating. I believe we are beings who create. It is a matter of finding what we love to create. I have many things - from concocting things in the kitchen to knitting to sewing to writing. But writing is the one I love most of all - and I wrote today.

Fresh Start

I think I know part of why I was feeling bogged down and not writing as much as I wanted to now. I just finished doing a read-through of the draft thus far, and there were a lot of inconsistencies. I went through and corrected those yesterday and today, and I wrote almost eight hundred words today. That isn't the most record-breaking day of writing I've ever done, but it is getting myself pointed in the right direction again. That feels better. I have also been reading more. My memory isn't as strong as it used to be, which makes reading long novels rather intimidating for me. (kind of ironic, considering the task I am undertaking - to write a novel. At least when I am writing, I can have notes and reminders on my desktop, waiting for me to need them!) I finished one novel the other day and started another one today. It has been a long time since I've read just for fun, and it feels good to go back to it. I know that reading more will strengthen my writing too. Steeping yourself in language and expression is a good thing to do when you are writing.

less sunshine

The days are getting shorter, and that means my seasonal affective disorder is raging stronger and stronger. I keep telling myself it won't be too much longer until the winter equinox, and then the days will slowly start to get longer again. I have felt really down this year - curl up and cry on the couch and not feel like doing anything on some days. I know what I need to do to feel okay - things like light therapy, exercise, and writing all help me to feel more content and less depressed. It's just that some days there is a huge gap between knowing what I have to do to feel okay and having the desire to do it. Thus, I have not worked on my novel much in several days. I started exercising again yesterday, and that has helped my motivation. It also has my knee feeling a little better, even with all the cold air moving into our area. I think I may need to give myself a fresh start working on the novel - read back over what I have, review my outlines and plans, and write any other ideas that come to my mind. That will help me feel like I am not trying to push a tractor-trailer up a hill to get started again. Having a memory that does not work as well as it could makes it harder to write consistently - both time-wise and story line-wise. I am doing the best I can, though, and when my depression and my frustration at my funky memory don't get in the way, I enjoy myself.