IMG_0099It happens now and again that I freeze inside. I simply stop. I go numb, and there is this sort of surrender akin to despair. I float through life during these periods, making lists of things that I must do (go to work, walk the dog, feed myself) and my dreams take a back seat to survival. It is this weird fugue that proceeds illness. The sick hit me Saturday at noon.

That morning, I was feeling well enough, tired, but I was getting things done; the laundry, the grocery shopping, walking the dog, playing with the dog, a little proof-reading of my R&R, some notes on my WIP (work in progress). I sat down, thinking I would make some tea and do some real writing. Then out of the blue, pain, gut-wrenching like I was being torn in two, pain. That is how it happens every couple of months, and for the greater part of my adult life. After a while and much vomiting and wailing, it passes, leaving me feverish and weak as a newborn kitten.

These episodes are a  brutal reminder that time is no friend of mine, not when I was twenty and not now. Opposing that unpleasant truth, is my belief that I will live until I finish and publish the final book in my Idylls of Alleysiande series. There will be seven of these.

DarkriderReality and I have never gotten along. I am working on book two now while trying to snare an agent with book one. I have two other series that I hope to weave into my publishing career along with the Alleysiande books. I will be needing another few decades, but there is no bargaining when it comes to mortality.

Somehow, I have to stop counting on the mystical to keep me alive, and start dealing with the reality that if I don’t keep my eye on my dreams, time may run out before I have readers waiting for the next book.  I can’t imagine what is coming this next week. I am a piss-poor prognosticator, but perhaps in the labyrinth that is my life, I can hide a bit longer from the grim reaper.


4 thoughts

  1. Wow. I hope you’ve gone to the doctor. Sometimes writing is secondary. I hope I get to read your books too. Not to tell you what to do.


  2. My word, Elise. What in the world? I don’t know your illness, but it sounds like hell. Every two months? I don’t want to pry. Feel free to drop me a line on my email if you want…


  3. I earned my flirtation with the grim reaper in my turbulent youth. Eating disorders are actual Hell, and even if you happen to come out the other end, it leaves your body in shambles forever after. Thank heavens for my daughter. Had she not come when she did, well, I don’t think I’d be here today. I really don’t. I do panic about time running so callously through that hour glass. Even if I were in perfect health, I’d be at odds with the time I have here in this place. I squandered so much of it already. Thanks for stopping by. It really means a lot to me.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. This post really made me feel for you. There is so much we don’t understand about health, yet. The brain is just another organ but its effects are the worst sometimes. Sometimes physical illness can affect the brain, too. Lately (like the past year), about half a day before becoming physically ill, I’ll get depressed and existential. Then I’ll realize I’m getting sick. I’m convinced it hit my brain first as I’m not normally like that. I hope you can figure yours out and find peace, E.M.!


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