Today is four weeks since my dad died. Early on, several people who do grief counseling told me my thought processes would be messed up/foggy for three weeks. It’s true. They were. Are.
This morning for the first time I not only itched to get working again but felt as if I could do some decent work. I’ve fallen out of my 1000 words/day habit and haven’t started revising my funny MG boy book. However, last week I wrote up notes and thoughts surrounding draft 1 of another book (BB) and printed those out so I could hit the ground running on draft 2 when I pull it out again in several months. I forced myself to do this because I was sure that project was the culprit taking up valuable space in my brain, keeping me from the revisions and writing 1k words/day on a new project.
So this morning, free from that other project, I felt the itch. Not only that, I felt like my old writer self feeling the itch. Me and the itch. I decided it was time to do some scratching, time to get serious about those revisions.
I opened my laptop and started reading through revisions notes I’ve taken over the past four weeks. Suddenly, I felt teary and panicked and overwhelmingly tired. And I knew I wasn’t quite ready.
I closed the laptop and took a nap.
I’m sure I was right about the other project taking up valuable real estate in my head. But I obviously still need a little more time to make a little more space for my grief.
Patience isn’t one of my strengths but in this case, I guess I don’t really have a choice. It just means I’ll have more time for watching birds in the feeder. That is, until the Cooper’s Hawk arrives to sit on my back fence and all the juncos and sparrows and finches disappear until the coast is clear.
Eventually they’ll be back, and so will I.