Almost nine years later and...

Nothing has changed—no, wait, everything has gotten worse. I started blogging in 2013, mainly as a writing exercise, but also because I found it therapeutic to clear my mind of the random thoughts that seemed to constantly spin there. Up to January 2017, I had been blogging regularly. I stopped. For one thing, while most of my blogs were boring and for my own amusement, they were not all the same single thought. If I continued to blog, they would be. Suddenly, the only thought filling my waking hours was I want to go home! 

This blog, published in June 2017 explains why I couldn't write anymore. It's also quite scary to go back and read it today it's still relevant. Then in 2021 we started a four-year respite during which my life, and the state of things in the US, changed considerably for the better, despite COVID. I retired and started writing again. Though I didn't blog as much, I spent most of my time writing. I wrote and published eight novels. 

But in the past year, writing once again became very difficult until finally it is beginning to feel impossible. The realization suddenly hit me. It's exactly the way I felt back in 2017. My body is gripped by a feeling of being trapped in hell, and my mind is constantly fighting panic. For two weeks I've been sitting at my computer attempting to write an outline for my next novel. The bare bones of the plot are in my head, but only a few paragraphs have made it to the page so far. No matter how hard I attempt to concentrate, the only words I come up with are: What awful thing is going to happen next? and, It can't get any worse, can it? And then it does. Those thoughts are not about my imaginary characters and their world, they are about the people around me and our world.

Last October, my husband and I took part in a No Kings rally. I blogged about that here. That experience gave me a small boost, made me realize the entire country is not yet rotten, though I have to admit, we did see some of the rot roar past us in hyped up pickup trucks. On March 28 of this year there will be another No Kings rally and we will once again attend. I am hopeful that will jog me out of my panic and allow me to bury myself in my writing.

Since my 2017 blog post, referenced above—I highly recommend you read it—the only thing that's changed is everything is worse now, back then, I expressed a determination to stand tall and keep going. I tried, though I only managed to write a few posts in the four years that followed. Now, I'll cross my fingers and try again. What other choice do I have?

Living in the now

Not an easy thing to do. The now is so fleeting; if you don't make an effort to be in the moment, that moment is lost forever. Yes, it may still be a memory, but you wasted what could have been a moment of joy, by just not being there and soaking it in. You dismissed it by wishing for something that couldn't be, at least not in that moment.

An example of what I mean is when I look at photos of my three children, all now in middle age, and I regret not savoring each second of their lives more, when they were growing up—as babies, toddlers, children, teenagers and young adults. And I'm not saying I didn't enjoy them. I did, and I do. But, like all human beings, parents included, the demands of day-to-day life invaded my space and distracted me.

Why am I now, once again, dwelling on this mistake of constantly allowing the current moment to pass without fully enjoying it? 

Recently, on a late January evening, I was sitting on our dock, my fishing line in the lake, watching the reflection of the warm sun setting in the mirror of water and wishing I were back home in Ireland. Suddenly, like a slap to the back of my head, I had a picture of exactly what I would be doing at that moment, were I back in Ireland. I saw myself sitting at a window, staring out at the cold dark rain as it beat against the glass, wishing for summer, still another five months away, and no guarantee it would be much warmer or less rainy. Meanwhile, the multicolored sunset slipped behind the hill and the still warm air reminded me I'd lost the pleasure of that moment, wishing for something that couldn't be.

Not a fire - a real sunset

Well, yes, of course it could be, just not in that moment. I've always believed nothing is impossible, it's just everything comes with a price and are you prepared to accept that price or not? And I'm not talking about financial cost; that can always be overcome. I know, because I came to America with nothing but debt, which I did eventually repay. Right now, I'm not prepared to make that decision; currently the emotional cost is too high, though sometimes, on bad days, given the horrible things happening in, and to, this country, I come very close.

So, for now, I work hard to stay living in the now, appreciate the warm Texas winter, the view of the lake outside my window as I sit at my desk and write. The herds of deer roaming along the shore. The squirrels and birds perched in the tree at the corner of the patio, or strutting around the dock. And of course, the beautiful sunsets reflected in the still water while we fish. But at night, as I drop off to sleep, I allow myself to dream about being back home in Ireland.