Life is a Banquet

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

Yesterday was a rough day. Four rejections in a single day. The prospect of sending out five new queries for each Rejection started to seem rather silly (I settled for 9 total), and the weight of all that rejection combined with a week of being off schedule, led to a really rough day. Eli had a similarly crappy day. We must have all drank the anxious eggnog.

The truth is that the process sucks. I made myself sticky notes with the number of rejections that famous authors endured. I read articles about perseverance. Perseverance sucks. It's why diets fail. It's why exercise programs hit the dust. You can understand the value of perseverance, but it doesn't get any easier. Perhaps that's why it's so hard.

21 days to make a habit? False. Myth. At least in my life. You have to remake that habit everyday. I've had my daily goal of 2,000 words for over a month now--but it doesn't get easier, it just gets more ingrained. It's a lot like exercise--you can do it every day for six months. Take a week off and you may never go back--it's all about the strength of the commitment and keeping it even when you're NOT doing the thing.

So, today, I'm trying to get my  2,000 words on the current WIP. I'm telling myself it takes courage to get five rejections in a week. I'm telling myself that I'll never know if the 52nd submission would have worked if I can't get to 51.  And I'm reading stuff like this awesome article (RWA login required). Focusing on how much perseverance bites isn't going to get me anywhere except back into a nice gooey pit of depression.

I forget yesterday and do today to get tomorrow. tomorrow, I'm an eternal optimist. If I just keep plugging along, something will happen. I know it. In my core, I really believe that I can be one of the 8% (percent of writers who actually make above poverty level wages). Focusing on the reality, how awful rejection is, how unlikely success is, etc etc tends to distract me from that optimism. Still though, I have a feeling I'm going to need a lot of mantras to get through to that tomorrow.

Current Contenders:
Just keep swimming
Someone has to be the 8%
It just takes one
You never know unless you try
No one else can do this for you
One step at a time
There is no try, there is only do or do not. Do.

Others? What little mantras help you make it through? What helps you from becoming a bitter old crone about perseverance? 

Small Pleasures

One of things that depression robs from my normally optimistic self is the ability to see and appreciate the little joys in life.  I'm thinking I may market broken bones as a depression cure soon.  I will come, bash in a minor bone, or toss you off a garage step--and Walah! Cure.  Oh. Well. Yes, perhaps, just PERHAPS, the medication I started two weeks ago is having a slight effect.  Still, the broken foot is a powerful force in enabling me to appreciate some small pleasures in life:

How to be be friends with someone suffering from Depression

For the "What I want you to know" carnival:  I want you to know how to be friends with a person suffering from depression. 

Sometime ago, I read a couple of different posts—“how to be friends with an infertile.”  “How to be friends with a birthmother, etc”  I looked for but I have not been able to find one on how to be friends with someone dealing with depression.  I wrote this because this is what I would like my IRL and online friends to know about what I am going through.  I don’t pretend to speak for all people with depression, but I have tried to account for a wide range of experiences--not all of my examples are my own personal experience.  I would appreciate any linkage you could give this particular post because I would like to help as many people as possible.   

The "I am Getting Help" Mantra

So, if after reading the last post, you came away thinking I needed help, you were in good company.  And, I am nothing if not obedient.  So, I am getting help.  I am starting back with the wonderful counselor who helped me two years ago, and I am working with my doctors to find out what is causing the horrid mood swings.  Let this be a PSA that the first step towards getting help is the hardest.  Once it was done, and the calls were made, I felt so much better.  Medical professionals were telling me that I should not have to suffer like this, and I felt validated instead of plum crazy. 

I have not made up my mind what if anything I will do on the meds front.  I have yet to have the neurological test that Dr. Godlike wants, and Dr. Realist threw a monkey wrench in that theory on Friday, but I am slowly opening my mind up to the possibility of antidepressants or mood stabilizers.  The pros are right: I should not have to suffer like this.  So, I'm going into counseling and meeting with the new Dr at that clinic with an open mind.  My focus right now is on getting better. 

I'd like to say that I made the calls, and the sky opened up, and the birdies chirped and suddenly my world was no longer ending, but that wasn't the case.  What is the case, is that my productivity is gradually inching up again through a two part mantra: "I have a real problem" and "I am getting help.  I am getting help."  This may be my most Stuart Smalley-ist post ever, but this little mantra is keeping me going right now.  Knowing that help is out there, and that I WILL get better has given me a push to get a few things done in the last couple of days.  Things I can be proud of.  There is still a lot of work to be done, and I am wary of this being another upswing with a downside still to come, but I feel hopeful.  I am not alone, I am not crazy, and I am getting help.  This is enough for today.   

School Starts Tomorrow

I have never made a huge secret of the fact that I am the nerdiest of nerds and miss school. Yes, I miss being in college and law school. I miss picking classes, the fresh start at the beginning of each semester, planned breaks, the rhythm of tests and homework.  Yes, I miss tests. I told you, I’m a freak. But, what I really miss is the end goal—knowing that if you do X and Y and Z, you will graduate and that will MEAN you accomplished something real and tangible.

Tomorrow morning at 8 am sharp, I will be dressed and in my seat ready for school to begin.  Curious? You know you are! Read on . . .

The Gilmore Cure

My favorite part of the last week, besides the coughing and hacking, and oh yes, the visit to the Urgi-care center where it was discovered that I was mere steps away from pneumonia and the hospital with 50% of my usual lung capacity, oh and the four drugs I am now on to cure the roving creepy crawlies, all of which is entirely beside the point, my favorite part was when Loralie turned to Christopher and said "I guess we'll never know unless we try."

What? You don't spend your evenings with the Gilmores? However must the rest of the world LIVE without the Gilmore Girls?  Without Netflix? Egads.  Barbarians.  Anywhoo, in the season 2 finale, when Loralie turned to Christopher and said, "I guess we'll never know unless we try . . . " My heart did this little dance.  And even though, I totally knew she was about to get her heart handed back to her in a zillion little candy-sprinkle sized pieces, I was so in awe of her leap of faith that I totally teared up. 

I want this to be my motto.  I want to be so willing to see the world as half-full, the future as wide open.  I think of everything I have spent the last four months dancing around the edge of.  I want to be so willing to say, "What is the worst that could happen?" And then face that worst, and realize that jumping was so totally worth it anyway. 

Of, course if, God wants to make it easier for me to try, he might want to give me Loralie's body.  Just a thought.

My Best of 2005

Many thanks to Barren Mare and others "best of" lists for loosely inspiring my own best of 2005 list. 

The best parts of 2005:

• Watching Caylis grow from a puppy to a teenage-doggie, and watching her gain confidence and personality as she learned to swim, hike on a harness, play more complex games, and love with an abundance and depth that astounds me.  And I thought puppy love was terrific. 
• Getting Married.  The wedding and reception truly were exactly what I (and we wanted).  But, to me the best part is our vows and the partnership they represent.  We think of, reflect on, mention and live our vows in daily life--not just the fairytale moments. And THAT is the best part. 
• Coming out as a writer.  I want to look at 2005 as the year when I took a giant leap of faith, one that I continue to second-guess, accept, and put into action.  This year I finished my first novel, started novels 2 and 3 , joined RWA, went to nationals, had people other than my mother read my fiction, entered my first contest, entered golden heart, sold my first article.  Scary wonderful is the best part. 
• My friendship with the Golden Marionette.  I think my freshman year of college was the last time I had REALLY good female friends, and its been several years since I had "couple friends" and this year, I have both.  Having her to share our wedding with, sharing her wedding, watching our dogs grow, sharing fitness goals and newly-married-angst--She truly is one of MY best parts of 2005. 
• Yoga, Pilates, and Walking.  I could just lament the fact that I re-gained 20 pounds and leave it at that.  But that wouldn't tell the whole story.  Even as my relationship with food has deteriorated, my relationship with fitness improved, I got stronger, I challenged myself, I found ways to work through pain and neuropathy.  Discovering the gym, re-discovering hiking and yoga--these were some of the best moments. 
• Having my mother as my best friend.  Yes, it's corny, but as I have grown to accept myself and love myself, I have allowed myself to love my mother unconditionally, to have the kind of relationship with her that I crave--daily phone calls, long chats, silly conversations about nothing, and not worry about what others might think of our closeness.  In doing so, I have allowed myself to appreciate her quirks, distance myself from the unhealthy parts, and still love her completely. 
• Re-discovering my father.  The big guy's deteriorating condition has been one of many backdrops this past year, but what I have savored is this new feeling of closeness we share.  He reads my writing, he tells me he loves me, he sends me cards.  These little things mean so very much to me. 
• Finishing a job I loved.  As hard as it was to have my job end in Sept., as hard as it has been to adapt to working from home, leaving on good terms was the best part of an unfortunate situation.  And the fact that it freed me to pursue my dreams--well,that is certainly a best part. 
• Watching Freak become a part of my family.  Seeing Freak play computer games late into the night with my brothers and fathers, seeing him pick up the phone to call them on his own, watching him meet my New York relatives, I just fell in love over and over again. 
• Making a home.  As I have grown more confident in my own tastes, I have had the best time making a bunch of clearance finds into a home, filling this place with memories.  Part of this has been learning what makes a home: lazy evenings watching Star Trek, amazing dinners, watching pets do cute things, not sweating little stuff, and having space which reflects each of us. 
• Discovering my inner carpenter.  Part of the above has come about from challenging long held myths about myself--that I am careless, that I am no-good with tools, that I am uncoordinated.  I have ripped carpet.  I have put together furniture on my own.  I have moved furniture.  I have drilled.  I have spray painted.  I have GROWN. 
• Building spaces of my own. My ever rotating office space and closet space HAS served a purpose.  I have had a chance to explore my own needs, be truthful with myself, willing to experiment, willing to change, willing to declare myself worthy of the space. 
• Learning to stick up for myself and my choices.  I couldn't have built as much room for myself to grow as I have, if I hadn't learned so much about accepting who I am, standing up for myself, not worrying so much about pleasing others, not caving in so quickly.  I may be slightly more of a wench these days, but I think that is a good thing. 
• Moving further away from the "dark place."  The depression of three long years as I bounced from doctor to doctor achieved some resolution as I moved from probable MS to the diabetes diagnosis and opened up a new world of hope and treatment.  Metformin and Cymbalta have changed my quality of life, to the point where my health no longer defines me, where my chronic illness can recede to a more acceptable portion of my attention, and where the depression no longer seems crushing on a daily basis. 
• Falling in love with my state.  Obviously, I came here for a reason, and I came because I love the west.  But, this year, in going back to Missouri, going to New York and Reno, I have fallen truly in love with my home and with feeling rooted here. 
• Finding a connection to my community.  Part of feeling rooted has been becoming more involved with the community, volunteering with the library, SMART, and other programs.  Finding the RWA group, and the stitch n bitch ladies. 
• Falling in love with myself all over again.  It has been a decade now since high school, five years since I graduated from college, and one moment from my awakening, my true graduation.  This year when I embraced myself, my love of color, my love of cute things, my optimism, my fickleness, my curves.  I fell in love with my uniqueness and made real progress on accepting myself and dropping all the requirements I held for my own happiness.  THIS is the real best part of 2005. 

Right Side of Bed--With Pictures

I woke up on the wrong side of bed. In fact, I woke up so far on the wrong side of bed, I was pretty certain the right side no longer existed. Just yesterday, my world was peaches and cream, and all was right. I, however, did two bad things 1) I stayed up very late torturing myself with moveable type, getting ever more confused and 2) I ate a rice crispy treat—made with organic brown rice crisps and brown rice syrup marshmallows. For most of you, this would be a very healthy decision, but my pancreas immediately rebelled, and reminded me that diabetics do not have leeway to eat 3 or 4 rice crispy treats, even if they are organic, even if they do not actually contain refined sugar. So, I woke up with a nice blood sugar hangover, extremely depressed about my meager web skills (not to mention my inability to find a decent web designer to subcontract with—impossible to find good help these days). But, I am wavybrains, the optimist, I laugh in the face of depression—or at the very least sneer. I was not going to a bad day! No! But I needed to find that right side of the bed . . . so I embarked on Wavybrains’ patented Save-Your-Morning-Plan. To follow: 

Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life . . .

After I collected my water cup & the last few things from my desk, I felt a sense of relief and excitement about the future. I DID IT! But, I’m also tremendously sad about leaving behind some amazing people, work that I genuinely love doing, and a sense of purpose. The hardest thing was turning in my badge. I loved my badge, my little symbol of having arrived where I wanted to be.  I felt naked and vulnerable, standing there, badgeless, holding my water cup like a newly minted vagrant looking for a handout. As the empty feeling of sadness and relief spread, I felt like I should be taking myself out to lunch or ice cream or planning a nice little cocktail hour for this evening. I mean isn’t that how you cope with sadness?

But, the thing about being a diabetic is that you can’t even throw a proper pity party. Assuming you FELT like a drink, it’s really not an option unless you want the hangover before the buzz sets in. Ditto sugar. Mmmm brownies . . .plates of brownies . . .topped with coffee ice cream and drifting off to sleep into a pleasant sugar coma. Only to wake up inches from NEVER WAKING UP AGAIN. Ah, the joys of low blood sugar. Self-medication just isn’t an option anymore.  

Luckily, for those of us thwarted in our attempts to drown our sorrows in booze and chocolate, retail therapy has absolutely no long term affects on the blood sugar. Thus, tomorrow, my first day of the rest of my life, I’ll be going to a chi-chi Aveda salon and getting my hair cut and colored, the forest that is my eyebrows landscaped, and a pedicure. This weekend, Freak, who is racking up good husband points all over the place, is taking me to the beach where I will drown any remaining sorrows in the ocean.  

I racked up a few clearance bargains while waiting for my prescriptions to be filled, and so I feel slightly better.  I’m still Wavybrains. And as much as it hurts to move on, I am also so excited about the future, about the possibilities that lie ahead for me

I think it was a good day

I've always been lucky.  After all, how do you explain being born in America to great parents, getting to go to college AND law school despite having no money, getting the BEST dog ever, and finding freak? But, today I was extraordinarily lucky.  Not only did I have the beautiful memory of lying on the beach with Freak and Caylis to drive the Mondays away, but I also had some genuinely good stuff happen too.  All at once: