Grief Funk
    On the one hand, I'm feeling like I "should" get out and find a job, any job. Actually, I've already found one for which I'm sure I'd be hired. It's a surprising choice, surprising everyone including me, which is throwing the choice in doubt; and, it's a job that's always open, so it isn't necessary for me to sprint over and apply immediately. On the other hand, everyone continues to tell me that I've got time, which is true, take advantage of it, "pamper yourself," as one of my friends tells me. She also suggested "bubble baths", which would be, to me, torture, since I hate baths. "I will not do it Sam I am," I told her, laughing, to which she responded, "Well, then, what are you doing to pamper yourself?" I couldn't answer, although it occurred to me that I am doing nothing, which may be the way I'm pampering myself, since it's been a long time since I've done nothing. Wait to see how I feel in another month, many have suggested. In the meantime, I'm getting out little, moving little, feeling as though I'm cheating someone, not sure who and wondering if I'm indulging the immobilizing part of my grief and confusion, rather than living through it.
    Another wave of company rolls in Tuesday evening. I am sooo looking forward to this. Aside from really wanting to see MFS, the one who will be here the longest, looking forward to seeing MPNP and MPS again and thinking the visit may jump-start me, I'm pleasurably anticipating the sound of others besides myself and the kitties in the house, again. I'm truly surprised, and a little stunned, that it's hard for me to slip back into the habit of not only being alone but wanting to be alone. Being alone was so natural for me that I insisted on it for years. I used to describe being alone as my "up" time. I can tell that some kernel of me remembers this and loves my present solitude...but I'm having trouble taking advantage of it. Nothing seems natural, anymore. Reading, for instance. I always thought that, after my mother died, I'd probably begin focused, uninterrupted reading immediately. That's not happening. I have one book that I need to read, that I've promised to read, and I can't think of anything I less want to do. I pick up the book, read a page or so and think, "Oh, Jesus, what the hell did I just read!?!"
    Suppose my situation were urgent, I think. Suppose I had to scramble just to stay alive? You'd die, I think. Judging from how you're reacting, now, you wouldn't make it.
    At the moment, I'm editing a friend's novel as she polishes it for further agent solicitation. I'm working through a section in which the main character is grieving the sudden death of her husband. I'm so riveted by my friend's description of her heroine's grieving process that I'm having trouble objectively editing it. My situation perfectly echoes her heroine's, except that her heroine has just discovered that her husband spent the last few years of his life being bilked out of his $10mil/per year business. She truly has no resources. I've read this novel before. I know what happens...the heroine pulls it together, in a very quirky way, just in time...I can't imagine myself doing this but as I read I find myself putting aside editing duties and looking for clues that I'll be able to do the same, even though I'm not in the same financial straits. I am in the same emotional straits, though. I wondered, this morning as I polished off another chapter, if I'll find the resolution to the heroine's problems realistic, this time around.
    Later.
- posted by Gail Rae @ 07:12   email  this post