…when even though you’re surrounded by people, you feel utterly alone.
Ever feel like that?
It’s been almost 20 years since I’ve been without a dog in the house. Twenty. Fucking. Years. I can’t even really begin to describe how it feels aside from the statement above. I miss my Moonbug, my K’Lar, my MacLeod, my Scully…my Leo, who’s still alive but I’ll never see him again. Not having a dog in my house is a whole new kind of loneliness I’ve only ever felt once in my life. It’s torment.
But there’s more…
It has now been almost one week since I quit smoking. Yeah, I know. Yay for me. Woo-hoo. Go Jinxie! That’s not how I feel, though. I started smoking (cloves) when I was 15. A year later, I moved to cigarettes. Not sure why, but I did. I hate the taste and smell of cigarettes, but I like smoking. Yes, that’s damn weird for someone who’s smoked for nearly 30 years. I’ve quit at least 3 times. Once for 2 years. I can’t even remember why I started again, except for the last time. That was when I had the miscarriage. That life-altering event amongst many life-altering events that have warped my life into something unrecognizable.
And they would, because I certainly do most of the time…when I can actually see the stars.
But wait, there’s more…
I had a breakdown on Saturday morning. I hadn’t had one of those in a while, so I guess it was due, but still. Damn. It was a conglomeration of every single damn thing that is happening to me. Those two things above. The constant pain. The fatigue. I’m fucking tired, people.
Regardless of the feeling alone, of the pain, of the fatigue, of feeling like a failure at times because I’m 43 and so NOT where I wanted to be at this age…I said many years ago that I wanted to retire by 40. This is NOT the kind of retirement I was talking about…but regardless of all of it, I still somehow push forward with a strength I don’t understand, my grandfather’s words echoing in my head…
You’re strong enough for this, for what’s coming
What the FUCK does that mean, gramps? Honestly. Could you be any more vague?
At any rate, I still push forward, working out, trying to eat better, not smoking so I don’t die in 10 years, working on getting Running Ink Press somewhere so I have a legacy to give to no one, do whatever I can for Zombie Survival Crew, do the ghostwriting, and somewhere in the midst of all of that I try to find time to work on my own goddamn books…through the pain and the fog and the fatigue.
But I’m still really fucking tired, and there are some days when I just don’t want to get out of bed because what’s the point? Really. I hate feeling like this, and it’s not the first time I’ve been here. Though I haven’t quite fallen into the well again, so that’s a good start. For the past 20 years, those dogs have gotten me out of bed.
Now, I do it all for Umi, though I really wish I could do more for her. That’s when I feel like a failure. When I ask that question, “What the fuck is my purpose here if I can’t DO anything in this condition?”
I write, yes. That doesn’t require physical exertion, thank the gods, but it does require a clear mind. When the fog isn’t there, I create worlds, destroy some of them, kill people who piss me off, bring people together…make you laugh, cry, jump out of your seat or throw the book across the room. I make my worlds real for you so when you read them, they punch you in the gut when you close the book, because then it’s over and you don’t want it to end.
You have no idea how much I live in those worlds, because reality bites.
But I still need to make money, to work a job (if I can find one), just like the rest of the world. And physically, I can’t do most jobs anymore. So, writing, it is. That’s how I have to make a living, folks. When you buy a book from RIP, I get a percentage of that. Same with ZSC. When you buy my jewelry or crafts, I get most of that. This is all I have left. That’s not meant to guilt you into buying something. It just is. This is how I live now.
It’s depressing. It’s daunting. It’s fucking stupid that I’ve been placed in this position, and it makes me wonder if I asked to be challenged far beyond that which I ever have in any other lifetime. Seriously. My life has been a series of road blocks.
I know we make our own destiny. I’m trying to carve mine, but sometimes, you don’t get all the tools you need to carve that path, so you have to improvise. Mostly, it just pisses me off that some people are handed every tool necessary and the rest of us have to figure shit out on our own.
I guess I should take a clue from my K’Lar….
…and always look over the edge.
Opportunities lie in wait in the oddest of places.
You have no idea how high that cliff was. She scared the hell out of me that day, even though I stopped freaking out long enough to snap this photo. K’Lar was damn bold for her 65 lbs.
I should be more like her.
I have a hammer, a chisel, and some rope for getting down that cliff, and I’ll be carving my own path from this point forward, because I’m fucking tired of playing by everybody else’s rules. I WILL be releasing two vamp books this year, and possibly another book. And nothing is going to stop me short of death!