Coffee! Coffee! Coffee! I can’t say it was a bad week, but like the week before, it was exhausting. Because of being so tired I nearly drowned from all the coffee I guzzled. Sure, it felt like being on crack, but I stayed awake. I got use to my hands shaking the way they did.
Heavy on my mind was trying to reason why I so frequently self-sabotage. As you’ll read below, it was a disastrous week taking care of my physical self, and still difficult writing. I need something to be a true accomplishment in my life. Something that I make a plan and succeed carrying out. I felt 100% certain it was going to be the novel. I still believe I will finish it, and it will be something I’m proud of, but I need for it to remain something I’m passionate about.
On Friday I tried to talk with my therapist about self-sabotaging, but I don’t think I made him understand how much I see it affecting my life. It’s almost as if I got no reaction at all. I did not leave his office feeling good about our session. Sigh.
Weight and Fitness
Weight on Sep 12 – 260.2
Due to another obligation Maurice and I didn’t get weighed at Weight Watchers last week. To ensure accuracy, I will only get weighed at the same time and place every week. I’m struggling enough. The last thing I need is to get fluctuations in my weight that have nothing to actually do with my body.
somewhat greatly relieved I didn’t get weighed. I can’t think of any other time that I ate as much as I did last week. Lots of snacks and dessert nearly every night. It was insane. On top of all that, the week was between Maurice’s birthday and my birthday, so we were taken out to eat several times. I did not make good food choices.
Don’t even ask about exercise. I don’t want to give an honest answer. I felt bloated and disgusting all weekend. This week I will have to work my ass off.
Good news! I’ve written just over 50% of my manuscript. Bad news! I have 50% more of my manuscript to write. I didn’t give it much thought until I read an old email about the novel to a friend. The email was from August 2015. August!!! I had no idea it’s been over a year since I started. If you read memoirs by writers, almost all of them say it took a year, or more, to write their first novel, then it took them less and less time as they became more skilled. Like them, it’s been over a year for me, but I have long ways to go.
I’ve already been told numerous times to relax, so I’m trying. I’m just frustrated. You see, not only is it important for me to get published (keep fingers crossed,) but I’ve been viewing this as a possible revenue source. I’d love to get off disability and contribute more to the household income. I fully realize that very few people make money by writing, but I certainly am going to do the best I can.
The silver lining is that I’m pleased with how the story is going. I love my cast of characters and the differences in their personalities. Mitch, the PI, is not quite a hard-boiled detective, but he’s pretty uptight and stressed while the characters around him are a bit crazy. Believe it or not, as long as I’ve been writing this, I’m still unsure how the clues and red herrings will fall into place. Hell, when I started it, I wasn’t even sure who was guilty. With the draft I wrote a week or so ago, I’m more confident with how the last half of the novel will go.
My mood was frustrating, but I guess relatively stable; there was nothing remotely close to a healthy diet and exercise; my writing slump is gone and I’m slowly progressing forward with it. The week was meh, so I’ll give it a C.