I think of us as a team here, where everything we do and say resonates in some way and we can relate. It's why I cherish this comment section and those who take the time to join in. I'm thankful every day that we're here for each other. Thank you. So much.
I think you’re connecting two important things: the desire to move slowly and the instinct to punch back at anything that tries to hurry you up. Those feel like they have the shades of grief to me.
I realized for me that deep grief and loss makes me dizzy inside. I need slowness to not feel toppled over. When I reflect back on the four years it’s taken to “re-stabilize,” I realize that grief needed slowness to “digest.”
You can go slowly and still matter. You can write less and still matter. I think the folks at Substack have a directive to grow this thing, to keep bringing in more readers, more resources, more writers and to tirelessly proclaim the value that you and I already know Substack has. The concerted effort of teams can feel pushy at times. But just know: they aren’t changing my mind about you being someone I want to hear from. 🫶
I would also like to say, that I would love to read about 3-5 objects that hold the most meaning from your life with Ed. Memorializing them methodically might also help in letting them find their next home.
Amanda, thank you so much. This means so much to me. I know I need to get off the hamster wheel and pace myself. Having two newsletters puts the pressure on, and that's not necessarily a bad thing, but when the day is going badly, I need to accept it and go with it.
So many things to come to terms with right now. Thanks for being here. ❤
I'm so sorry you're feeling lost and down, and I think you're taking exactly the right approach to slow down, focus on what's important in the moment, and seek solace in the companionship of writers and readers. We can all relate.
I so relate to your vulnerability and love that you reached out. I call this the 'in between time,' when nothing feels right because the future hasn't unfolded yet. When I can (occasionally) just let the discomfort be--the impatience, frustration, irritability--somehow it becomes weirdly exciting around the edges, because I know the next right thing's gonna show up sooner or later. As long as I'm patient and trust the process. As long as I keep putting one foot in front of the other. Thank you for reaching out.
Ramona, I've been feeling just this way, though, I am thankful, there's no grief in my life at this moment. I am sending you a warm abrazo.
Just to maintain the momentum with writing to the "you" in the ether is hard. It's been hard for me lately. Before bringing my newsletter onto the Substack platform, I knew that the intimacy in my voice, who I am, was essential. This, I knew, is what my readers liked, and the adventures with language that I took. I feel a little intimidated on Substack--a need to behave a certain way, though there are many inventive posts. I seem to be caught again in the utterly boring pattern that visits writers much too often: Can I do this? I do think the solution is Helen Redfern's "just tick along" for a while--and allow yourself to feel the pleasure of writing and creating.
I too am in throes of grief. It’s like walking through the ocean and waves crashing on my head. I don’t control my pace or strut, I’m a fighting tides at war.
But, I keep writing and finding a bit of joy in typing the last words. Of losing myself in a new plot. Or writing away my grief. It all seems ugly now, but I bet with 3 years of aging, I will love this ugly and uncentered version of my prose.
I will find it tucked in a forgotten folder and be amazed at my bleeding on the page. I will be proud I walked through it and survived.
I'm so sorry, Teri. Grief strikes in so many different forms. It's hard, it's painful, it keeps evolving, and just when I think I'm over the worst of it, it pounds down again.
Time, I know, is the great healer, and for me, so is writing. I need to get over the idea that everything I write has to be published. It doesn't. But I love having my newsletters, so I have to find the balance.
Take care, and you keep writing, too. Loved your thoughts here!
Dear Ramona, I'm glad to have found you on Substack and loved this album of wonder. I look forward to anything you write, as well as the beautiful pictures, whenever it's time to post. ❤️ ❤️
Your honesty is such a balm in an inauthentic world, Ramona. Whatever pace you need to set, I hope you see from these responses how much we all just want to share your journey with you. And YOU get to decide what that looks like. So many hugs from the PNW. 🌿
Even though I am not grieving, I feel exactly where you are on your journey. I am plodding along, but at the same time, I am living life. Now that summer, and a nice one at that, has arrived, I find it harder to stay focused on my sequel YA fantasy novel. I am querying the first manuscript and some days feeling guilty because I don't move as fast as other authors to accomplish goals. Yet I write and edit daily for a few hours. I write my Substack articles, there's this appointment and that one, lunch out with hubby, tea with friends, walks with my pooch. Oh and camping. I think at certain times, during certain seasons, its the Universe's way to show at this point in one's life, maybe other things rank just as important as the writing and accomplishing. As long as you (and I) continue to find joy in the process and time spent, it doesn't matter how many hours are invested, are we happy 'just doing.' Thank you for your post! Know you are not alone.
Holding you in my heart, Ramona. Grateful for whatever you're inclined to share here. Pulling for you to take all the time you need to rest, sort through stuff (and feelings) and write whatever you need to write *for yourself* first, and for publication if you feel like it. Or not, so there.
From the comments it's clear that you have a caring, appreciative community here (to which I come late as its newest recruit!). Grateful to hear from you; most grateful to know that you're doing whatever you most need to do on the day you're living through.
P.S. I'm thinking one visit daily to Notes -- no more -- would be a good compromise for my serenity and my "engagement." Going to try it for a week, anyhow. If you'd care to join me in the endeavor, we can compare notes (not Notes) in a few days. ❤️
So nice of you to weigh in here. And welcome! I need to write, I need this community, and I need to be careful not to get wrapped up in those things that are peripheral to writing and community and have nothing to do with me.
I do find some wonderful things at Notes every day, but some days it's harder to find them than on others! (Yesterday someone mentioned Tyrus Wong, the animator credited with the beautiful scenes in 'Bambi', among other creative projects he could put his name on, and pointed me to a PBS American Masters program on Wong's life. I watched it last night and it was amazing. I wouldn't have known about him if not for a mention on Notes.)
But I will slow down and ease off when and where I need to. Keep me posted on how it's working out for you, and I'll do the same! Thanks again.
Well, I'm watching and learning bc there's a 50/50 chance I'll be walking your path one day. I think it helps all of us to know it isn't a path we have to walk alone and that we aren't the only ones walking it. I think the worst part for me would be if either myself or Brent thought we did have to walk it alone.
That's such a powerful way of looking at it. I'm of an age where I've had to feel someone else's grief many, many times. Always at the back of my mind I knew my time would come but I brushed it aside, hoping of course that we would live together forever. When it didn't happen, I was as shocked as if I hadn't known what inevitability looks like.
If anything I say here gives some awareness or comfort, I'm all for sharing it. All I can say is, this is what it feels like to me. We'll each, unfortunately, have to feel it for ourselves.
But you're right--nobody should have to go through it alone. And as long as I'm here, nobody will ever have to.
And here I was hoping against hope the awfulness of it might be a little less for having thought so much about it. Because I've been thinking about this since my twenties. Guess that's what happens when you live too much in your head. But I am who I am.
Your authenticity, heart & soul vulnerability, and your writing touch me to the core Ramona. I so wish I had the perfect "words" to help you walk through this hardest of paths you find yourself on. I can only hope it helps in some small way to know you are not alone and you have many "connections" in your corner. After the traditional Hawaiian ash scattering service we held for my Donald James a year following his passing I think I had an expectation that now the grieving would lessen. I'm now moving toward year five and realize it never really stops, but like waves and tides in the ocean it comes and goes in varying degrees. Mark Nepo's daily nurturing via "The Book of Awakening" has become one of my own heart & soul calming and healing reads. I remain convinced that we are all "Perfectly on Time" in every single given moment we walk through and my own journey has confirmed that absolutely everything comes and goes. When I'm able to listen to my soul voice instead of my naysayer shadow voice the experiences being presented seem to shift and a level of comfort and peace arrives. Please be gentle with yourself - you are truly a bright light and gift to the rest of us.
Such kind and poignant words, Marilyn. Thank you. My heart goes out to you as you follow this same journey. There is no easy way to get through it. All we can do is try to be kinder to ourselves and others.
Take care, Ramona. I said to a dear friend the other day that grief walks beside us and we never know how it will be from one day to the next. No one does. And no one can tell you what is the right way of the wrong way to live with it because it's your grief.
Being 'slow' sounds good. decluttering sounds good, walking, writing, whatever suits you but it has to be at your pace.
From a reader's and writer's POV, I can tell you, I appreciate and learn so much from everything you write.
Your friend is so right! Just when I think I'm okay it turns out I'm not and I don't know why I'm surprised. Every time.
Writing can be healing for me but it can also be painful. I know what I need is balance. Talking it out helps--immensely! But it can't be all I do. I need to LIVE.
These moments will come but they can't be all there is. I'm working on that, too!
I think of us as a team here, where everything we do and say resonates in some way and we can relate. It's why I cherish this comment section and those who take the time to join in. I'm thankful every day that we're here for each other. Thank you. So much.
I think you’re connecting two important things: the desire to move slowly and the instinct to punch back at anything that tries to hurry you up. Those feel like they have the shades of grief to me.
I realized for me that deep grief and loss makes me dizzy inside. I need slowness to not feel toppled over. When I reflect back on the four years it’s taken to “re-stabilize,” I realize that grief needed slowness to “digest.”
You can go slowly and still matter. You can write less and still matter. I think the folks at Substack have a directive to grow this thing, to keep bringing in more readers, more resources, more writers and to tirelessly proclaim the value that you and I already know Substack has. The concerted effort of teams can feel pushy at times. But just know: they aren’t changing my mind about you being someone I want to hear from. 🫶
I would also like to say, that I would love to read about 3-5 objects that hold the most meaning from your life with Ed. Memorializing them methodically might also help in letting them find their next home.
I wish I could. I can't right now. I will say this: the things that mean most to me are staying right where they are.
No pressure. The editor in me couldn’t help but see the sparkling edges of potential in these treasured objects. All in good time ... 🫶
I love this idea as a way to process the sorrow that swirls through us in grief.
Amanda, thank you so much. This means so much to me. I know I need to get off the hamster wheel and pace myself. Having two newsletters puts the pressure on, and that's not necessarily a bad thing, but when the day is going badly, I need to accept it and go with it.
So many things to come to terms with right now. Thanks for being here. ❤
This. All of this. Every scrap of this. Beautifully said. 🌿
Take care Ramona. Big hugs x
Back at you! 😘
I'm so sorry you're feeling lost and down, and I think you're taking exactly the right approach to slow down, focus on what's important in the moment, and seek solace in the companionship of writers and readers. We can all relate.
Thank you, Wendy.
I so relate to your vulnerability and love that you reached out. I call this the 'in between time,' when nothing feels right because the future hasn't unfolded yet. When I can (occasionally) just let the discomfort be--the impatience, frustration, irritability--somehow it becomes weirdly exciting around the edges, because I know the next right thing's gonna show up sooner or later. As long as I'm patient and trust the process. As long as I keep putting one foot in front of the other. Thank you for reaching out.
Thank you, Robyn. Sometimes it's all you can do--you're right.
Sending hugs. It’s rough. Please hang in there.
Ramona, I've been feeling just this way, though, I am thankful, there's no grief in my life at this moment. I am sending you a warm abrazo.
Just to maintain the momentum with writing to the "you" in the ether is hard. It's been hard for me lately. Before bringing my newsletter onto the Substack platform, I knew that the intimacy in my voice, who I am, was essential. This, I knew, is what my readers liked, and the adventures with language that I took. I feel a little intimidated on Substack--a need to behave a certain way, though there are many inventive posts. I seem to be caught again in the utterly boring pattern that visits writers much too often: Can I do this? I do think the solution is Helen Redfern's "just tick along" for a while--and allow yourself to feel the pleasure of writing and creating.
I too am in throes of grief. It’s like walking through the ocean and waves crashing on my head. I don’t control my pace or strut, I’m a fighting tides at war.
But, I keep writing and finding a bit of joy in typing the last words. Of losing myself in a new plot. Or writing away my grief. It all seems ugly now, but I bet with 3 years of aging, I will love this ugly and uncentered version of my prose.
I will find it tucked in a forgotten folder and be amazed at my bleeding on the page. I will be proud I walked through it and survived.
Please keep writing.
I'm so sorry, Teri. Grief strikes in so many different forms. It's hard, it's painful, it keeps evolving, and just when I think I'm over the worst of it, it pounds down again.
Time, I know, is the great healer, and for me, so is writing. I need to get over the idea that everything I write has to be published. It doesn't. But I love having my newsletters, so I have to find the balance.
Take care, and you keep writing, too. Loved your thoughts here!
Dear Ramona, I'm glad to have found you on Substack and loved this album of wonder. I look forward to anything you write, as well as the beautiful pictures, whenever it's time to post. ❤️ ❤️
Thanks so much for being here!
Your honesty is such a balm in an inauthentic world, Ramona. Whatever pace you need to set, I hope you see from these responses how much we all just want to share your journey with you. And YOU get to decide what that looks like. So many hugs from the PNW. 🌿
Thank you. That means a lot.
Even though I am not grieving, I feel exactly where you are on your journey. I am plodding along, but at the same time, I am living life. Now that summer, and a nice one at that, has arrived, I find it harder to stay focused on my sequel YA fantasy novel. I am querying the first manuscript and some days feeling guilty because I don't move as fast as other authors to accomplish goals. Yet I write and edit daily for a few hours. I write my Substack articles, there's this appointment and that one, lunch out with hubby, tea with friends, walks with my pooch. Oh and camping. I think at certain times, during certain seasons, its the Universe's way to show at this point in one's life, maybe other things rank just as important as the writing and accomplishing. As long as you (and I) continue to find joy in the process and time spent, it doesn't matter how many hours are invested, are we happy 'just doing.' Thank you for your post! Know you are not alone.
Lovely. Taking a break doesn't get near enough credit for doing that thing it does. I don't know why we think we have to plod along without it.
Sending you lots of hugs.💕
Thank you, Janice. Thinking of you, too. ❤️
Holding you in my heart, Ramona. Grateful for whatever you're inclined to share here. Pulling for you to take all the time you need to rest, sort through stuff (and feelings) and write whatever you need to write *for yourself* first, and for publication if you feel like it. Or not, so there.
From the comments it's clear that you have a caring, appreciative community here (to which I come late as its newest recruit!). Grateful to hear from you; most grateful to know that you're doing whatever you most need to do on the day you're living through.
P.S. I'm thinking one visit daily to Notes -- no more -- would be a good compromise for my serenity and my "engagement." Going to try it for a week, anyhow. If you'd care to join me in the endeavor, we can compare notes (not Notes) in a few days. ❤️
So nice of you to weigh in here. And welcome! I need to write, I need this community, and I need to be careful not to get wrapped up in those things that are peripheral to writing and community and have nothing to do with me.
I do find some wonderful things at Notes every day, but some days it's harder to find them than on others! (Yesterday someone mentioned Tyrus Wong, the animator credited with the beautiful scenes in 'Bambi', among other creative projects he could put his name on, and pointed me to a PBS American Masters program on Wong's life. I watched it last night and it was amazing. I wouldn't have known about him if not for a mention on Notes.)
But I will slow down and ease off when and where I need to. Keep me posted on how it's working out for you, and I'll do the same! Thanks again.
It seems to me you're handling all of this with a great deal of grace. It might not feel that way, but it does look like it.
As always your kindness fills my heart. ❤
Well, I'm watching and learning bc there's a 50/50 chance I'll be walking your path one day. I think it helps all of us to know it isn't a path we have to walk alone and that we aren't the only ones walking it. I think the worst part for me would be if either myself or Brent thought we did have to walk it alone.
That's such a powerful way of looking at it. I'm of an age where I've had to feel someone else's grief many, many times. Always at the back of my mind I knew my time would come but I brushed it aside, hoping of course that we would live together forever. When it didn't happen, I was as shocked as if I hadn't known what inevitability looks like.
If anything I say here gives some awareness or comfort, I'm all for sharing it. All I can say is, this is what it feels like to me. We'll each, unfortunately, have to feel it for ourselves.
But you're right--nobody should have to go through it alone. And as long as I'm here, nobody will ever have to.
And here I was hoping against hope the awfulness of it might be a little less for having thought so much about it. Because I've been thinking about this since my twenties. Guess that's what happens when you live too much in your head. But I am who I am.
Yes, you are uniquely you. That's a good thing!
Your authenticity, heart & soul vulnerability, and your writing touch me to the core Ramona. I so wish I had the perfect "words" to help you walk through this hardest of paths you find yourself on. I can only hope it helps in some small way to know you are not alone and you have many "connections" in your corner. After the traditional Hawaiian ash scattering service we held for my Donald James a year following his passing I think I had an expectation that now the grieving would lessen. I'm now moving toward year five and realize it never really stops, but like waves and tides in the ocean it comes and goes in varying degrees. Mark Nepo's daily nurturing via "The Book of Awakening" has become one of my own heart & soul calming and healing reads. I remain convinced that we are all "Perfectly on Time" in every single given moment we walk through and my own journey has confirmed that absolutely everything comes and goes. When I'm able to listen to my soul voice instead of my naysayer shadow voice the experiences being presented seem to shift and a level of comfort and peace arrives. Please be gentle with yourself - you are truly a bright light and gift to the rest of us.
Such kind and poignant words, Marilyn. Thank you. My heart goes out to you as you follow this same journey. There is no easy way to get through it. All we can do is try to be kinder to ourselves and others.
Take care, Ramona. I said to a dear friend the other day that grief walks beside us and we never know how it will be from one day to the next. No one does. And no one can tell you what is the right way of the wrong way to live with it because it's your grief.
Being 'slow' sounds good. decluttering sounds good, walking, writing, whatever suits you but it has to be at your pace.
From a reader's and writer's POV, I can tell you, I appreciate and learn so much from everything you write.
As I said above, take care.
Your friend is so right! Just when I think I'm okay it turns out I'm not and I don't know why I'm surprised. Every time.
Writing can be healing for me but it can also be painful. I know what I need is balance. Talking it out helps--immensely! But it can't be all I do. I need to LIVE.
These moments will come but they can't be all there is. I'm working on that, too!
Thank you for your kind words, Prue. As always. ❤