"She'll live. Mama, she's conscious! She'll live!"
Wanted to let you know, gentle readers, that I am, in fact, alive. Now, to resuscitate this blog.
I've come through an incredibly dark time, weeks when I couldn't get off the couch, when I would lie (or is it lay? I never could get that one straight) there alone and sleep and watch tv all day, and then go to bed at night. There is a kind of bondage I can't really explain, when you literally cannot do all the normal daily things, like water the plants, answer the phone, make something to eat. It was incredibly quiet and isolating, and entirely out of my control. I felt like someone was holding my head under water and there was nothing I could do about it. I developed a strange attachment to my butcher knife, woke up in the middle of the night with an insatiable urge to destroy things. It was as close to suicidal as I ever want to be, and I'm hoping it's passed.
Some of this was a result of the Lyme disease, but added to that were multiple bad reactions to new medications we were trying. Then I had to go off of sugar and flour (for medical reasons I really don't feel like getting into here), and this was really the final straw. No brownies. No cookies. No French bread. No ice cream. Absolutely no alcohol. Very little fruit. Meat and vegetables--have you ever tried to survive on just meat and vegetables? It is actually impossible.
The first week in August things began to level out and I was able to start writing again, slowly. It was like a small light had begun and was strengthening. Some days it is brighter than others, it waxes and wanes, occasionally I fear that it's gone away entirely again, but it is warmer and brighter here than it used to be, than it has been for months. I'm able to write a few days a week, for a couple hours. Every week I hope for more.
Most encouraging to me, I love the book. I'm just enjoying writing it and love how it's turning out. I'm hopeful that it will be coherent, readable and--most of all--fun.