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SO I haven't written today (and still working on not feeling guilty about that), but uh, I did something else instead.
aside from ripping the handle off my microwave, but that's another story
I booked a writing retreat for myself.
In retrospect it's not much, just a hotel room during my vacation in July. But it's just for me. No partner, no kids. It's one of the ones with the little kitchenette and a microwave so I can bring my own food, which is essential since it's hard to eat out when you have to eat low carb and don't want to eat six salads a day. My plan is to have a writing out day for lunch, at Panera or something like it, check into the hotel and get/bring dinner, and then have another writing session in the evening.
Since check out isn't until 12pm, I can do some more writing in the morning. Plus, the hotel is down the street from Jon's work so I can meet him there with the kids. Score!
It's really weird to do anything like this for myself. There's a part of me that feels like I shouldn't spend the money on myself like this but I also desperately need some fucking quiet. I've had anxiety attacks spiked by the noise of my kids playing, through no fault of their own. I need to take some steps to take care of myself, and of my words as well.
Still internally freaking out about it, though.
(Also yes, I did break the microwave. The handle is no longer attached. Jon is getting a new one tomorrow.)
I booked a writing retreat for myself.
In retrospect it's not much, just a hotel room during my vacation in July. But it's just for me. No partner, no kids. It's one of the ones with the little kitchenette and a microwave so I can bring my own food, which is essential since it's hard to eat out when you have to eat low carb and don't want to eat six salads a day. My plan is to have a writing out day for lunch, at Panera or something like it, check into the hotel and get/bring dinner, and then have another writing session in the evening.
Since check out isn't until 12pm, I can do some more writing in the morning. Plus, the hotel is down the street from Jon's work so I can meet him there with the kids. Score!
It's really weird to do anything like this for myself. There's a part of me that feels like I shouldn't spend the money on myself like this but I also desperately need some fucking quiet. I've had anxiety attacks spiked by the noise of my kids playing, through no fault of their own. I need to take some steps to take care of myself, and of my words as well.
Still internally freaking out about it, though.
(Also yes, I did break the microwave. The handle is no longer attached. Jon is getting a new one tomorrow.)
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