On STILL trying.

Before I get into the real meat and potatoes of this post, I have a confession to make. Last week, I tried starting a podcast based on these blogs. But I was a little lazy and instead of recording the entry myself, I settled for a creepy, robotic voice. I’m opting to record the reading of this post myself in attempt to do better–although I worry I’ve been saying that a lot lately, that I’ll do better next time.

I am trying to figure out how to step back into my life, as I focused on in my last blog post. I went to the faculty’s annual end of the year party and felt more like I was crashing the party. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was on the outside looking in. I guess it’s always humbling to realize that life really does go on without you. Social circles did not collapse in my absence. The building did not fall down. I think we all try to balance some level of narcissism. Everyone likes to be missed, right?

And I’ve never liked to be alone for extended periods of time. I mean, I love alone time but with the understanding that I can be social soon enough. My parents left for Florida over the weekend, leaving me alone in my childhood home (aside from an Australian shepherd and two cats). It’s the first time I’ve been alone in months. Part of me is looking forward to it, but a larger part of me feels anxious about it. Under even the best circumstances, being alone with my thoughts can lead to a depressive bout, and I feel like those chances are increased trifold considering the state of my life. I confessed to my mom that since Maddie’s accident, I’ve been going; traveling to Florida, figuring out how to get back to Florida, traveling to New Orleans, returning to New Jersey. Now, for the first time, I am able to stop and process everything that’s changed. I’m out of adrenaline. I’m out of things to do for the most part. I’m not sure what to look forward to.

I’ve been reading more, which is good. I finished Andrew McCarthy’s memoir Brat: An 80s Story. I really enjoyed it and was impressed by its originality. While admitting some regrettable moments of self-sabotage, McCarthy doesn’t really lament the career he could have had. He asserts that everything that happened did so for a reason. He’s happy now and he’s made peace with how he got to now. He’s not bitter and he doesn’t restrict himself to a superstar from the 1980s. His honest account of how he almost became a Hollywood heartthrob is engaging and authentic. I started Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins Reid the other day. I’ve really been going back to the 1980s and it reminds me of one of my favorite lines from Pretty in Pink: You can overdose on nostalgia. But maybe that’s how I escape the fear, the anger, the sorrow, and the uncertainty of my present.

I wish I could escape into my writing. I have some new ideas to kick around, but I’d really like to settle into a project that I’m excited about. I’m waiting for the second round of edits from my publisher. I guess there’s no rush; my anticipated publication date is in a year. I’m really hoping studying in Ireland will help me get back into the swing of things as far as my writing is concerned. I think a single focus on writing–craft and comprehension and the whole lot–will grant me inspiration and motivation and confidence.

I’m also considering splurging and purchasing a first-class ticket for my flight. Why not? I hate flying–and it’s a long flight–so to ease my worried mind, why not prioritize comfort? We only live once. Right?

Maddie update: She started her intensive MNRI therapy this week and it’s going well. I’ve started the “What To Do About Your Brain-Injured Child” course from The Institutes for Achieving Human Potential to learn how to help Maddie. It’s been really interesting so far and has validated some concerns I’ve had about mainstream medicine for quite some time, concerns that have been emphasized and exacerbated by Maddie’s tragic accident.

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