November 9, 2013
Yesterday, I told you about how I just don’t want to do. Anything. Work. Write. Feel. And I still feel that way today. But it’s not a choice. And so I’m forcing myself to do today.
Laundry was finished by 7. It would have been finished earlier if I’d realized I wasn’t going to fall back asleep when I woke up at 3:30 this morning. And I’ve made porridge for the week. (I figured out why last week’s porridge seemed to be such a small batch. I use two different types of rice when I make it. Instead of using my 1/2 cup, I used my 1/3 cup. I almost made the same mistake this week.) And I’ve made a large batch of risotto and roasted two butternut squash for tomorrow. The dishwasher has been run. I still have to empty the dishwasher and do the dishes in the sink from making the porridge and risotto.
And write. And I know that I don’t have to do NaNoWriMo. But I’ve already started. And in nine years, I’ve never failed to finish NaNo. And for as little direction as this novel is taking, I do have an idea of where the next section is going. So I will write.
And, yes, I’m still so very sad. But I’m not as angry as I was on Thursday. Or Friday. It’s slowly subsiding. I’m working my way back to where I was before the meeting on Wednesday. I’m trying to not be angry because it won’t make any difference. It won’t bring my baby back. It doesn’t matter whether or not there was something that my care providers should have seen before I went into labor. It’s too late now. And being angry about it won’t change what happened. So I’m coping. And I keep emailing my friend who’s been here before me. And she keeps writing back with reassuring words, letting me know that she felt the same way.
It’s slow, but I keep on going.