Keep Going

It's finally the last day of April. At the end of last month, I was feeling very sick. I couldn't breathe, my throat was sore, I had chills, my chest hurt, my muscles were sore, and I felt exhausted every moment. I didn't know if I had the flu, bronchitis, pneumonia, or Covid-19. I just knew I didn't feel like doing anything. Before I got sick, I had plans for the next few months; I had goals, and I had set deadlines for myself to reach those goals. I wanted to edit that first draft I had written. I wanted to move forward with my construction project. I was too tired to do anything, though. I had no energy, and I had no hope for the future, so my brain kept telling me there was no point.

I was getting more and more depressed. I was constantly worrying about my dogs, wondering what would happen to them if I died. My dogs have never been separated from each other since they were born a decade ago, and I didn't know anyone who would want to take three dogs, no matter how cute, loving, or obedient they are. I thought about the dogs so much I couldn't think about anything else, and I couldn't function at all.

Someone had tweeted something about April NaNoWriMo on the last day of March, and I thought it would be a good idea for me to get on the site, register, set a goal, and force myself to reach that goal. So I did just that. I decided I would write fifty thousand words by the end of April; that would mean finishing the rewriting of my memoir, or so I thought at the time. I actually thought by the end of this month, I would have completed my second draft. So on April 1^st, I started writing, and every day, I tried to rewrite my work in progress, “tried” being the key word. Reaching the daily word count, my daily goal, was a challenge because I couldn't focus on my memoir. I ended up writing about everything else: how I felt, the dogs, lies people told, how people reacted to social distancing, life in the woods, abuse, my parents, corruption, my former students, my problems, my disease. I wrote about anything that would fill the page and make me reach my daily goal of written words.

On April 28^th, I reached my big goal with two days to spare. I looked back at my writing and realized this April NaNoWriMo didn't help me with the rewriting of my memoir. However, it gave me something to focus on other than the dogs' future as I imagined it, it started two other potential books, it kept me going. Today, on April 30^th, I still don't feel well and I still don't have a solution for my dogs, but I didn't waste the whole month worrying; I stayed active, I forced myself to function.

Today, I mowed the lawn, I arranged to have the plumbing of the new cabin completed, and I ordered blocks to start working on the walls. I don't know how far I'll get, but I'll keep moving forward.