A Summer of Dashed Hopes

This is an update, but it's more than just a writing update. It's a life update - because at this particular point in my existence, my life is experiencing a monumental dip that is, of course, affecting not only my writing, but my career, my studies, and my health. But you could always skip to the bottom to get to the writing-specific portion of this update. Let's dive right in.

So: We moved out of our house. Currently, my family and I are living in a tiny apartment on a street that has yet to be opened while we do the obligatory house hunt. Said house hunt has been an otherworldly nightmare. Almost everything we've seen here has been an absolute disappointment of mind-boggling proportions. The less said on the matter the better, because it's frankly infuriating.

Now, before we moved out of our house, I had already made plans for my summer. I signed up to complete a TEFL Diploma so that I could steer my career in that direction. I like teaching English, and I'm told I'm good at it, so why not make it official? Sounds like a logical progression of events, right? 

So, I sign myself up to what I know is going to be a good three months' worth of work, at least (even though it's a 6-month program, the plan was to speed it up and get that diploma!). And, though I didn't want to get too far ahead of myself, I started making plans in my head - places I knew I could rent out and turn into little English Language centers, and what I'd need to make that happen, and all of that exciting good stuff. 

Almost immediately, and quite dramatically, things changed. We moved out of our house. And in between the move, the reasons which led to it, and the issue of where we're going to live, it was suddenly a lot harder to stick to my new study schedule.

Another thing I signed up for before we moved out of our house? An MEd. program. That's right - I was all primed and ready to get a degree in Education, all excited for what I hoped would be yet another great investment in my career moving forward. By the time my term would start in September, I would be done with my TEFL Diploma. That was the plan, anyhow. 

At the end of August, while I hadn't done nearly enough of my TEFL Diploma courses as I had hoped and still had a mountain of work ahead - and had begun tutoring students in English - I was 100% ready and willing to jump into my first MEd term, completely determined to balance it all out and push through.

And then the earthquake happened. Late at night. We rushed out of the apartment and to a nearby empty lot. We waited, and waited, and waited some more. The phone lines were overloaded, and we couldn't get in touch with family at first. Even the internet wasn't working. So there we were, sitting in our car, parked beside an empty lot, surrounded by a flurry of activity, worried about our family and friends, and scanning through radio stations to see if anyone had any news - if there was any announcement, anything. 

It was a long night. I could go through it in more detail, but that's not what I want to focus on in this post. It was a harrowing experience, and for the two weeks since, I have stayed up well into the night, often sleeping at around 4 AM, because the fear of another earthquake striking while we slept, oblivious, terrified me. 

Week one of my MEd: Almost a disaster. Somehow, despite everything that was happening, I managed to complete all of my assignments and turn them in on time. Sure - I lost some points because I didn't use as many sources as my instructors would have liked - but I reasoned that it was better than earning myself a bunch of zeroes. And even though I reached out to my advisor, I don't think there's much that could be done for me. So, when the next week started, and everyone started talking about more possible earthquakes and tsunamis and God knows what else, I began to really wonder.

I've lost interest and motivation. I am irritable, and tired, and have the attention span of a goldfish. I don't want to work on my MEd, and at the same time, I do. I don't want to go back to tutoring my students, and at the same time, I do. I don't want to continue on with my TEFL Diploma, and at the same time, I do. Is this the overwhelm talking? Probably. So something's gotta give.

Maybe I need to just call it quits with my MEd. I'm not sleeping well, we're still going out looking for a new home, I have students relying on me, and everyone's up to their eyeballs in stress. It's too much for me at the moment. I don't like giving up, and a big part of me - the dominant part, really - is rallying against this. It tells me to push through, to keep going, that I can make this work in spite of it all. 

What can I say? I'm a fighter. 

I'm just tired of fighting this fight, and I don't think I really need to, in the big scheme of things. 

Which is to say that I haven't decided just yet, but things are looking grim, and I don't even want to broach the subject of writing. Haven't done a lick of good writing since the summer took its downturn. Hate it. Wish I was more resilient. But, life being what it is, nature being as uncontrollable as it always has been, and me being the mere human I am, there's really not much I can do there. 

For now, all I can say is this: I told myself at the end of that disastrous first MEd week that I would give this thing a go for another couple of weeks. If I still can't stomach this overwhelming program, I'll give it up and move on with my life. If, by some miracle, it gets easier and my life settles down around me, then maybe - just maybe - there's still some hope left for this thing.

I can't help but feel disappointed, however. Marie/Elise was supposed to be completed by the end of August. I was supposed to be sending it out to beta readers by now. I have the beta reading call drafted up and all ready to go on my social media. I have the sign-up sheet ready. But the most important thing - the finished manuscript - is not ready yet. So much for an end-of-year release. This one's going to have to sit on the back-burner for a little while longer, it seems.

I have been journaling. It helps keep track of the whirlwind of problems and thoughts and concerns in my life at the moment. Mostly, though, it's just me lamenting my current state. I can't exactly tell if it's making me feel better or worse... Then again, I never really could. 

Finally, there are a couple of other things I wanted to note: I've missed 2 podcast episode releases now. I want to say that you'll have them soon, but this neighbourhood is noisy - there are kids and there is construction - and I still don't have a place to actually record here in this apartment. Also, read all of the above. I'll figure something out eventually, but for now... it doesn't seem like I'll be recording any episodes.

The second thing is Scrittorio. I had a big post explaining the state of things and how disappointed I have been with regards to the magazine and all of that other good stuff... I hope to share that soon, when I have the mental bandwidth to deal with it, but in the meantime, I can say that I haven't given up on it. Instead, I've decided to cut things down a bit. It won't be quarterly anymore. Scrittorio will be an annual publication. More to come on that when I have the time to breathe.

Happy things to wrap this up: The way the sun is washing over my arm as I type this, and the way it warms the wooden planks of the dining table. The funny mental image of me with a tan on only one arm because the sun doesn't reach the other. Cookies and milk for breakfast. The wacky new colored pencils I got for myself the other day at the supermarket, and have been looking for excuses to use ever since. The way the ocean looks from my apartment balcony today.

Alhamdoulilah.