It was leading to rabbit holes of character arguments that spiraled into hellish domains where finding a feasible 'out' for Sunset grew dire indeed. After several attempts I've decided to just rip out the rootApologies for being away · 1:57am Oct 24th, 2021
So, this is just me making a quick gasp of breath as I struggle to stay afloat in a sea of stress and anxiety. I've been unable to log into my various accounts this past month.
You know what, fuck it, I need to get things off my chest. I think it is high time I laid out everything. It's no secret that I've been having hard times, but I've tried hard not to dump them on my readers unnecessarily. To varying degrees of success. I think it is time, and if you are reading this then you're one of those lovely people that can be called a 'loyal reader'.
Get ready, because this is going to be long.
And I deleted everything I've written the last hour in this blog post. I just can't do it. This is family stuff and you don't just dump that on strangers. But writing it out even to delete it did help, somewhat. So, I'm just going to stick to what has happened this summer.
This summer, with Covid causing all the headaches for travel, we (My littlest brother, mother, and I) sold our tiny, two bedroom apartment in Vancouver for a pittance and travelled to a rural community in Newfoundland and Labrador. We bought this new house sight-unseen as it was impossible to travel due to restrictions at the time to just /look/ at the houses. I was concerned about selling during the pandemic, but our financial situation was so terrible that we didn't have much choice. British Columbia was unaffordable for us, and the area we were in was becoming a slum. After five months of trying to sell, we ended up getting less that what we'd payed for the apartment less than a couple years earlier. But it was enough to afford this place out east.
Well, there is a reason you don't buy a house without going to it in person beforehand. Pictures can lie, by omission and by design. In our case, I stepped foot in the place and it felt 'wrong'. Slanted. Like I was going to slide across the floor. It took a few days to figure out why my brain was screaming that the place was tilted. It was because everything was off kilter. Windows, doors, the works. Whomever built the place didn't like using a level, or had one eye higher than the other. We got a good laugh afterwards, but the damage was done. Because I couldn't keep my damn mouth shut that 'something is off'.
But my brain-bug wasn't the only thing to happen. Now, my mother is deathly afraid of heights, and the house sits near slopes as it was built on a hillside. The driveway is decently steep, as is the slope behind the house. Nothing severe, mind you, for most people. But it was too much for my mom. She started having panic attacks that the house would slide down the hill at any moment, or that we'd fall down them and break our necks while outside doing yardwork. And how I wanted to do yardwork. I started getting all sorts of ideas for trimming back the trees and doing landscaping to create steps down into a shaded glen next to the house that was on our land.
On top of this we discovered something that we'd never dreamed of being an issue when we lived in British Columbia; the ambulance service. To give you an idea of the situation, the ambulance service in our area is Fewer's Funeral Home and Ambulance Services. Yes, in that order even. Also, Medivac exists only in St. Johns. The one place where it is not needed in a large, mostly rural province. I grew up in a tiny rural community in British Columbia. A wonderful place called Oona River, located on an island 6 hours by boat from Prince George, and IT HAD medivac at all times (weather permitting). That there wasn't even medivac blew our minds.
Further adding to things was the shocking isolation of two weeks where we couldn't leave the house for any reason. Imagine it. Crossing the continent with only what you can stuff into a few duffel bags. Much of your weight allowance given over to food for your elderly cats. We had air mattresses, because all our furniture and possessions were being shipped. A table with chairs that the previous owner left behind, and a few pots and pans, and that is it. Our only entertainment came from an aging laptop, but we didn't have any internet, because the cable guy couldn't come over to hook it up because of, you guessed it, covid.
Because of Covid we never did get our furniture, but I get ahead of myself.
Those were the longest two weeks of my life, as we slowly went crazy from isolation. If we didn't have each other it would have been really bad. I will never scoff at solitary confinement being cruel and unusual punishment again.
Well, my mom and brother start talking about selling the place and all sorts of other things. They saw only problems wherever we looked, many of which I am glossing over at this point for the sake of brevity. I kept out of many of the conversations, as I just gave up and felt like I had no say in any decision regardless. My mom was deathly afraid being in the house, and that is no way to live. Add in her health issues and the ambulance situation and it was concluded that we just couldn't stay.
To add salt in the wound, I fell in love with the village. It was gorgeous, and the wonderful weather that hit the area right as we got out of isolation just made it so much more pleasant. I instantly took to long walks down along a long stretch of land that created a divide between the bay and a lagoon. But there was still a wall between me and the locals. One that felt like it wouldn't go away with the, honestly pleasant, Newfoundland accents and the horrible, vile masks every still has to wear, and my anxiety. How I loathe these masks! They had that true, much lauded Canadian friendliness that the city folk like to claim and wear as a badge, but really lack. It's, being honest, just a difference between rural folk and city dwellers. Cities are not conductive to personal relationships and friendliness, in my opinion.
Into this comes my other younger brother (3rd of 4 boys in our family). He asks us to come stay with him while we get our feet under us and figure out what to do with our lives. Whether we keep the house or not, or do something else. He even makes a suggestion that he could help our youngest brother get a job. He is in charge of a big division of his company, and said, "I'd rather have someone I know is a hard worker and I can train without any previous baggage than some hot-shot kid with a degree who will be a pain in my..." We hadn't seen him in years, and my mom leaps at the idea, and my brother does at the idea of maybe, with luck, getting a career.
Well, we luck has not been on our side for some time.
I should mention now that our brother lives with his wonderful wife just outside Chicago. The trip across the border was, hilariously, easier than flying only within Canada. The border guards were, at that time, so underworked, relaxed, and friendly that even when it looked like we might miss our connection in Montreal (avoid that airport! It is the worst!) they were nothing but help. The planes were almost empty. I'd estimate somewhere between a third and half capacity.
We were so grateful for the respite granted in Illinois, and it turned out to be a great summer in almost every regard. We arrived just before the 4th of July, and spent that celebration with the in-laws. It was an amazing start to the summer. A not perfect summer, by any means, but such a reprieve that it was a balm for our souls.
But, it became apparent very quickly that the idea of moving permanently Due South was untenable. The immigration process was filled with issues, and, with great reluctance, it was concluded that we'd have to head back to Canada. However, just as we were settling on this course of action, we received terrible news. My mom's best friend was very sick. So, it was decided that she'd head west, my youngest brother back to Newfoundland, and after some back and forth, that I should go with him. He'd go house-hunting for a place in St. Johns while I took care of the cats in the hotel. Our brother said he would help with any mortgages or finances. Before we left banks were contacted and potential issues sorted through. We were all ready to go.
So, that is where I've been this past month. Just yesterday an offer was made, and accepted on a house, and all the worries and doubts came racing back. What if he can't get a job? What if the rural house just doesn't sell? It's been four months with it on the market and no one seems interested in it at all. What if we can't get financing after all? Should we have gone back to the rural place after all? What if this? What if that? Doubts, worries, and anxiety.
And here I am, at nearly 40 myself, and all I can do is offer him a hug and generic platitudes.
So, that is what has been going on with me. I am so utterly useless. I try to write, having got a notebook from a nearby walmart, but I've only managed a couple pages in the last week.
Heh, this blog post is the longest thing I've written in months.
Anyways, if you have read this far, thank you. It felt good just writing this.
That is unfortunately a rough time. All I can offer is best wishes and good luck. 👍
Hopefully next year, things will get better.
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I've left a lot out, and said too much as it is. I'll probably delete this blog tomorrow morning, if my track record with these kinds of blogs is anything to go on. ^^;;;
Good luck to you and yours
I don't have much to say that wouldn't be empty platitudes. So I can just share my hope, that things get better.
Am just happy to hear you are alive, hope to just see more of you around!
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Thanks! It feels like luck hasn't been our best stat in the game of life, at times.
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I'm trying to be hopeful as well and keep a positive attitude. These hurdles are not insurmountable, I keep telling myself.
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Thanks! I'm leaning a little bit back towards writing more pony stuff. My doubts on being able to make it as a self-published author have come crashing back down on my head and the relative safety of fanfiction is tempting me right now.
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The world is a big pile of shit right now, but not so big that we can't climb it. Keep at it!
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Honestly, you are a consistent writer, which is more than I can say for most 'real world writers' once you have a world you tend to have well-established rules and keep to them, most don't and I enjoy the fact that you do.
Characters that you make or basically remake, have been solid, arching their story along with the main story and character is vital, and you do it well. I have confidence you can make it as a writer.
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My brother tells me, 'Remember, there are people writing and publishing stories confidently that are terrible.' It's like in Ratatouille with 'Anyone can cook', only, 'Anyone can write.'
I was looking over my published stories today and noticed 'A Dream of Pride and Envy', and thought to myself that, maybe, that would be a better starting point for a deponified Myths-verse. One of the main characters is also a central character in 'Queen in Stone', and I am not a fan of prequels as there is a loss in tension knowing that certain characters are protected by virtue of knowing where they are in later stories. Now, the journey to those points can be interesting in and of themselves, but they'd be more interesting if done first and allowing the story to naturally progress. There was also a number of ideas that I had for that story that I cut as I didn't want it to get out of hand that I could revisit. The Moirai were meant to have a large role in the story and be the driving force behind Sombra's betrayal. This play on Fate and Choice could be revisited in a longer, full novel length version of the story. The Daring Do archeology aspects would be cut, however. Keeping it would create a tonal problem between the two halves.
Or would it? Hmmm... Something to explore perhaps. I wonder if I still have the notes for the story.
“There's always another story. There's more than meets the eye.”
-W.H Auden
Keep at it, your luck will come around. Also, welcome back to the otherside.