Earlier this week, I emailed my therapist about various zaniness going on in my life, and the first line of her response was, “Calm the hell down.” First of all, thank you for not babying me, but instead telling me to put on my big girl pants. Also, good advice in general. I’m not the only one who’s wound up so tight that outrage or offense are instant reactions to everything. That’s the whole country. Calm the hell down.
She went on to advise me specifically on what I’d asked about, reminding me that other people’s issues are not my issues. I have a hard time with this one, as an empathetic person. I find it difficult to set certain boundaries with people I care about. I’m working on it.
She didn’t ask me how the writing was going, which meant either there were already too many topics to cover, or she assumed it wasn’t going at all. In any case, that assumption would be correct. During April, when I had planned to scramble and finish the last few chapters, I actually wrote one. Just one. It was tedious and un-fun. I’ve gotten this far on this project and I’m starting to resent it. I have such a short attention span. Why haven’t I been writing short stories all along?
Honestly, I’ve begun to doubt that the whole thing is any good. Those who have read it in its entirety seem to think the dialogue is the best part, so maybe I should be working on it as a screenplay.
I have several days off between my last day at TJMaxx tonight and my first day at Nordstrom Rack later in the week. I’ll see what I can come up with during that time.