If you’re like me, you have this internal drive that tells you to do, do, do at all times. Do you have spare time (ha!)? You should be cleaning the kitchen or reading something educational or working on your next writing project or checking your email or… This internal monologue is exhausting, and even more-so in the midst of COVID-19, when my brain is mush and some days I can barely construct a complete sentence.
I read somewhere on Twitter that the current global pandemic has created an ongoing stress response in all of our brains. It’s hard to function when your brain is focused on surviving, not thriving. But after months (and months) of sheltering in place while worrying about family, friends and the state of the world, my brain had to adjust. And also, stuff had to get done.
I let myself grieve, I let myself hope (and despair and hope and despair). And here we are. It’s August, we’re still at home. The state of Texas is not doing great in terms of fighting COVID-19, and we are choosing to be very cautious. I have finally accepted the current normal (I refuse to believe this is the new normal), as has my brain. So I spent the last month editing my manuscript, which had been resting in Ulysses since Dec. 31, 2019 when I typed “The End.”
Despite the first half of 2020 being a wash (besides giving birth, which is a lot of work), I’m finally making progress with my manuscript. So why did I decide to take a break from my manuscript just when I’m getting my momentum back? I’m considering it the ultimate act of self care. I’m not doing nothing. I don’t think I’m capable of that. But what I am doing is cutting myself some slack. Not forcing myself to create every night. Instead, I’m soaking in baby snuggles, watching the TV shows I missed during my non-existent maternity leave and checking some writing-adjacent tasks off my list. I’m updating my website, working on my query letter, writing my synopsis, honing my agent list and dusting off the old blog.
Being able to tackle these smaller tasks, while taking a break from the one giant task of perfecting my manuscript, feels like a huge accomplishment in itself. My hope is that by the time I’m ready to return to my manuscript, I’ll have a solid foundation built from all of these other tasks. And I’ll be better off overall. At the very least, I’ll feel a little more relaxed. I’ll have laughed a little more. I’ll have enjoyed this new phase of being stuck together at all times, yet feeling more isolated than ever.
I know this is a season, even if a very long one. And I know one day it will end. I’ll go back to the office, my girls will go to school. Travel will pick up again. The world will keep turning. And although I’d love to go wander the aisles of Target or write in a coffee shop or drink margaritas on a patio, for now this is enough.
