Times of Adversity | Sherrie Lord
Times of Adversity
Aug / 21 / 2009
I know where I belong...but there’s not enough of
me to spare.
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Not A Poser
I started a second blog, called Writer Wounded, a couple months ago. I posted it on Blogspot, and it was to be where I talked about how it is to be a published novelist struggling against chronic illness to once again be a working, producing novelist. I had grand ideas about how I would offer tips and advice and give space for colleagues with similar difficulties to guest blog their ideas.
I posted twice on Writer Wounded. Then I got to thinking.
“Sherrie Lord, you say?” one woman would ask. “What has she written?”
“She wrote two Christian romances, and they’re really realistic. Her heroes are so sexy,” her friend would reply, adding, “I know you’ve heard of her. You know, she’s the Sick Author.”
Nope, not one of my better ideas. So don’t go looking for Writer Wounded. I deleted it.
God showed me I wouldn’t have time for that anyway, as I’d be too busy being the Biker Author.
Busy, indeed. I have my new website design up and running, but I have yet to add some new pics of me and my bike. It’s enough right now to keep up on the Biker Patch of the Week that I post on my site.
But guess what? I’m still the sick author. I’m still an author who’s ill ― for the past couple of weeks, for this particular flare-up. And it’s so frustrating. I know where I belong, where I’m happiest, the only place where I don’t feel I should be doing something else ― and that’s at my computer. But I just can’t muster the energy to work. There’s not enough of me to spare.
So I read, I take long baths, I watch videos, and I sleep. I pencil detailed schedules into my day planner, believing I suppose, that writing it down can make it so. But chronic illness obeys no one. It falls for no tricks, it listens to no reasoning. It doesn’t care how much I’m not getting done.
So I get discouraged. I get depressed. I gripe and complain. I cry.
Harry, wise man that he is, told me a few minutes ago that I’d better get used to this. Because I may improve, I may have good days or even months, but I will always have some measure of illness I have to deal with.
“And you need to learn how to forgive yourself for being sick,” he said.
I thought that was pretty profound, pretty true. Important enough that I wanted to share it with you. Important enough that I thought I should write it down and keep it somewhere safe, somewhere handy...so I can read it again, when I forget.
Don’t give up on me. I’ll be back. I promise. As soon as I can. Maybe tomorrow.
Hugs, Sherrie ;-}
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