More Writing Therapy

The real wobble of a day like this one is that I can't really anticipate how it will land on my shoulders. UnNamed's release last year on this day was therapeutic all by itself. I'd jumped from NaNo into a frenzied but focused edit and the date coinciding with my mom's death/birthday felt right.

So I thought it would do much the same. However, UnSung was three times the work and full of its own unique problems and solutions, January was a mountain of unpredictability while I healed and made changes and February was not a month I went into on full steam. Reaching today, while the book release is still a buffer and exciting on its own, is also a day where I'm not cushioned by any shock-laden steps of grief. I felt today, two years since I lost my mom, too keenly.

Days don't often have that power. I don't build up a frenzy for holidays, although I do anticipate the days when I get to give someone a gift. I certainly observe those death anniversaries with an acknowledgement but the day of mourning has never been my deal. Yet, at two years, I can't deny the stages of grief rub raw. The anger, the sadness, a reluctance to let any of it burst into a mess, but knowing that bottling is a big no-no.

For better or worse, this woman fuels my writing. I look for resolutions in our one-way relationship by talking to her through my stories. She isn't any one of my characters but I feel her traits coming through. There's a female cardinal outside the kitchen window that teases my cats so spiritually, it's definitely not unlike her.

I'm probably romanticizing this day more than I typically might. But I want the lump in my throat to go away so I can celebrate again. Nothing fills where people are gone, but nothing feels better than honoring them through bettering the self. So if I must concede this day to pain, then let it flow through and give me more days of triumph ahead.

How's that for a mantra?