so i write

in a somewhat strange turn of events, I am no longer working full time like I was -- a week earlier than I expected. I am now mostly in bed, with medication, trying to will myself into believing my foot and my stomach don't hurt.

yesterday I was really shaken up. This is not how I expected this summer to go, you know. I thought I'd have the best summer. I didn't. And now I feel horrendously guilty for being physically unable to work (I grew up with a mother that taught me that you were "bad" for being sick or hurt), and I keep hearing the all-too familiar words inside my head: failure lazy waste of space.

thankfully, Zoe was able to give me some perspective: "You sit. And soak in that discomfort until it rides its way out of you." Probably some of the best advice I've ever gotten.

she also said "you've rarely ever been given the luxury to do absolutely anything you wanted (which can mean absolutely nothing but sitting and writing)."

so here I am, writing. And not just for this blog, or for freelancing gigs (not very fancy ones, but I've had a few. A sign of good things to come? I hope!), but I have finally started the novel that I've had locked away in my head since I was 14 years old. The words are pouring out of me; it's just so cathartic, I can't even explain.

okay, so I am only a little over a page in (not so impressive), but it feels so good to finally feel worthy enough to put this on paper. The last time I wrote (and finished) a novel, I was 12 years old (it was a really bad novel, obviously). It's a little (a lot) scary, but I can do it. My goal is to finish it within a year.

and Zoe, I hope you know that I wouldn't have gotten through this summer without our daily texts. So thank you.