23,000 words. Considering I started writing my book in January of 2010, that may seem pathetic. But, to be quite honest, I've taken several months off. Raising kids takes over and I let this go sometimes. BUT I do return. And I will continue to return and finish. I want this too badly. My kids are three, almost two, and six months old. It's chaotic around here. I'm trying my best to be a great wife, great mother, great homemaker. And it is fulfilling. Truly, it is enough. Still I feel strongly about writing. I feel strongly about the book I'm working on and the impact it could have one people. I also have an idea for my second book already that I'm looking forward to beginning. Must. Finish. First. Book. First. And enjoy myself in the process. And occasionally blog, just so there is a record somewhere of this process that gets stuck in the internet world forever. :)
It’s nearly been a year since my Mom died. It’s been a quick year, but a hard year. Grief is not something that you can really prepare for or understand. It doesn’t make sense. It isn’t linear, there is no timeline that fits all. It’s unpredictable. I’ll be fine one moment. Better than fine, even. Happy. Then the next as I’m doing something mundane like putting away groceries in my pantry the grief comes at me quick and the next thing I know, I’m sobbing on my kitchen floor. Then I get up and I’m okay again. It’s weird. I can say it honestly now- this past year has been the toughest I have experienced emotionally. It forced what I tried to bury up to the surface and made me look reality in the face. The reality is not pretty and it is not what I want and it will always be something that I wish were different. But it will never be different. I accept that. I do. I accept that, but it’s painful. I didn’t start writing this to talk about the pain though. I wanted to share the ...
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