It’s been a strange day. I had plans to write a lot more than I’ve actually written today.
I got 400+ words, then deleted a few notes I’d left myself and dropped back down to 304, which is where I sit now. I was there at 5 p.m. and at 6, then at 7 and at 8. Now it’s 8:38 p.m. and I still haven’t made any additional progress. I wanted to, but obviously not bad enough.
I got up excited, then got some bad news about a family member, and although I’ve tried not to dwell on the issue, I don’t think I’ve let it go either. Suicide is one of those things I just don’t understand. I’ve battled depression before, but the one thing I’ve never battled is the urge to hurt myself. But maybe because I don’t understand it, I’ve found myself thinking of it off and on today, and feeling a lot of feelings about it, and a great deal of empathy for my dead relative.
I guess you could say I’ve spent the day in a more contemplative than creative mood and my numbers show it.