And to make it a full circle thing, my son is just as neurotic as the rest of my family. When Seth asks if we’ve locked the doors seventeen times as he fears robbers, or he won’t go near water because he doesn’t want to be eaten by a shark, or the fact that he refuses to go camping – because there are coyotes! And wolves! And bears! – I completely understand and sympathize.
One thing my dad does, is constantly live in a state of stress. It’s what gets him through his daily life. Unfortunately, I’ve inherited this nasty trait. And let me tell you, it is awful.
I turned my revision in last week, and since that moment, I’ve sort of been afloat. What happens when the main focus of my stress is gone? Complete breakdown, people, that’s what.
Several things are going on in my life, too (nothing to do with writing). None of which I can control and they are all wait-and-see types of things. What have I been doing? Focusing on them – and stressing. It’s pretty bad.
So bad that my husband told me, “You need to go to Starbucks and start your new book.”
“Because you need something to focus on.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Are you saying that when I’m stressing over a book I’m tolerable to live with, but when I’m not working on something you can’t stand to be around me?”
I get this. At least with a book I have something tangible, something that I can control. And the end product is directly related to how much I work on it.
So here I sit, at Starbucks, focusing my stress. I’ve got to say, I feel better already. Is it the atmosphere (crowded today!), the skinny vanilla (extra hot!), or the fact that I’m feeling productive for the first time in a week? Who’s to say? It may even be the James Blunt blasting on my iPod.
What I do know is, I’m happy. And if I get bored, I can always take picture with my phone.