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I went to bed early last night, angsting over a small story that I was going to post, only to realize at the last beta comment that it was created on a fundamentally flawed idea. So that got scrapped. I went to bed early, feeling a little discouraged. I'm mostly over it—it was just going to be an extra story in my holiday series, but it wasn't an actual holiday, and therefore wasn't necessary—but now I've been up since 3am, partially because of the early bedtime and partially because I had dreams about my mom for the first time in a year.
It's so weird when grief hits you out of nowhere.
I always expected it, intellectually, to hit less and less, that grief ache in my chest, but for some reason I thought that because it was reducing in frequency, it would reduce in intensity. Emotions are really strange sometimes.
It's so weird when grief hits you out of nowhere.
I always expected it, intellectually, to hit less and less, that grief ache in my chest, but for some reason I thought that because it was reducing in frequency, it would reduce in intensity. Emotions are really strange sometimes.