For one of the first times in my life, I have nothing to say. I finished my book and had plans to bulk up on blog posts, but as soon as my story finished, my body shut down. As if the writing had been keeping me alive.
I think I’ve been having a harder time with the move than I was willing to admit. And I think I’m doing my thing where if I don’t admit it, it isn’t real. But then my story stopped, the writing ended, and my life raft deflated.
Yev asked me why I didn’t just start another story, and I told him I needed to find out what was going on with me. I needed to sit in the discomfort, feel the feelings, and maybe make a therapy appointment to talk about all the changes.
Change is hard. It can be wonderful, but it is almost always painful, even when coupled with glorious events. I am finally pursuing my writing career. I love where I live. But I miss my friends. I miss their companionship.
And the pervasive feeling that came up for me when the writing stopped was loneliness, like the characters in my book had become my friends. I used to throw myself into reading novels to escape my reality, but writing a book is another level of evasion. And although it may be healthier than drinking and eating my feelings, I think the best thing would be for me to go out and meet people.
Any tips =)? Meeting people as adults is hard, especially during a pandemic. But I think I need to get out of my house and do something without my children. Like a dance class or a yoga class. A place I can be, uninterrupted, unneeded. Just me.
If any of you have moved as adults, I’ll take all the recommendations on how to build a local social circle. Zoom has been amazing for maintaining my long distance relationships, but something different happens in person. And I think I need a little more of that ❤️.