Anxious Ramblings
I am so over almost everything tonight. I feel like I can't make a right move lately. I was in my Women's when someone showed a video that they made and I commented that I wasn't a fan because I felt like they sounded stilted and inauthentic. I guess that wasn't a good thing to say. I thought they wanted honest feedback, but I should know by now that even when people ask for honest feedback, they don't really want it. Now I think the person is annoyed/angry with me. I really don't want to make enemies. Seriously. I try to avoid that.
I feel trapped by Covid. I feel trapped by finances. It's not like we can't pay our bills. I know that and I'm grateful (to whom or what I have no idea but I do feel gratitude) that we can do so. That said, I wish I felt like we were getting ahead. Reality check: We are getting ahead. We are purchasing another rental property (which is its own story, but not for right now). We have paid off all of our credit card debt. We have paid down the mortgage on our house so that we no longer have to pay the PMI. All of this is real progress. So why do I feel like we are treading water?
I want to find a way to make money writing, but so far I haven't found that. Writing fiction is a slog for me. It's not that I have no ideas. I have lots of ideas and plots, but they come out in geological time. By this, I mean that while I have a plot outline, I am still dependent on the characters to talk to me and tell me what they are doing. Now I sound mental. I have ideas for more essay-type pieces, but I don't think they'll get published or make me any money, so I let them roll around in my head without writing them.
Ryan is having a hell of a time dealing with Ross, and, frankly, it pisses me off that Ross is dumping on his brother. Ross has issues. He needs therapy. He is not interested in getting any right now, so that's that. I can't make him. He is 20 years old, and, on top of that, he's currently not talking to me. It sucks, but I don't think that's a bad thing. I think when he talks to me he is more able to blame all his issues on me and his upbringing, which, I admit, wasn't perfect, but no upbringing is perfect. Personally, I think Ross has Bipolar Disorder and there are treatments for that if he wants to get them.
So, here I am with my regular closet of anxieties, my fancy holiday anxieties, and my Covid anxieties all swirling around in my head. I lie in bed and my brain won't shut up. I am trying to concentrate on the positive things. I am trying to look forward to life getting back to a more normal normal once people get the vaccine. I tell myself that money is good right now. I know that Ryan and Daxton and Felix are all doing OK in that global OK sort of way.
It's cold and dark (literally) and I am working on shoving all my anxieties back into their respective boxes. I'll get there. I know that. In the meantime, I need to take a few nice deep breaths and remember that I can do this.
I feel trapped by Covid. I feel trapped by finances. It's not like we can't pay our bills. I know that and I'm grateful (to whom or what I have no idea but I do feel gratitude) that we can do so. That said, I wish I felt like we were getting ahead. Reality check: We are getting ahead. We are purchasing another rental property (which is its own story, but not for right now). We have paid off all of our credit card debt. We have paid down the mortgage on our house so that we no longer have to pay the PMI. All of this is real progress. So why do I feel like we are treading water?
I want to find a way to make money writing, but so far I haven't found that. Writing fiction is a slog for me. It's not that I have no ideas. I have lots of ideas and plots, but they come out in geological time. By this, I mean that while I have a plot outline, I am still dependent on the characters to talk to me and tell me what they are doing. Now I sound mental. I have ideas for more essay-type pieces, but I don't think they'll get published or make me any money, so I let them roll around in my head without writing them.
Ryan is having a hell of a time dealing with Ross, and, frankly, it pisses me off that Ross is dumping on his brother. Ross has issues. He needs therapy. He is not interested in getting any right now, so that's that. I can't make him. He is 20 years old, and, on top of that, he's currently not talking to me. It sucks, but I don't think that's a bad thing. I think when he talks to me he is more able to blame all his issues on me and his upbringing, which, I admit, wasn't perfect, but no upbringing is perfect. Personally, I think Ross has Bipolar Disorder and there are treatments for that if he wants to get them.
So, here I am with my regular closet of anxieties, my fancy holiday anxieties, and my Covid anxieties all swirling around in my head. I lie in bed and my brain won't shut up. I am trying to concentrate on the positive things. I am trying to look forward to life getting back to a more normal normal once people get the vaccine. I tell myself that money is good right now. I know that Ryan and Daxton and Felix are all doing OK in that global OK sort of way.
It's cold and dark (literally) and I am working on shoving all my anxieties back into their respective boxes. I'll get there. I know that. In the meantime, I need to take a few nice deep breaths and remember that I can do this.