Where will I get the money to pay the bills? The money from writing suddenly dried up. I was sick.
“I should write, I have to.” It was the worried voice in my head.
It started in October of last year. The constant headaches.
But after being worried about —‘Will I ever make decent money from writing?’
I started to make enough.
It made me happy.
I set aside what my body was gently telling me.
Rest or it will get worse.
I didn’t rest. By December, I was in bed most days. By February, I had no choice but to finally see a doctor.
First, it was the right hand, and I knew what it was — carpal tunnel syndrome.
From there, I told my doctor about the headaches. He ordered some tests. And in every test, he found something.
Not only can’t I write, always in bed, but now I had to worry if I’m dying.
It was the first time to have done an MRI test, an ultrasound test, and all those other tests.
Yes, I had carpal tunnel syndrome, which to my surprise started getting better while dealing with all the other things in my body — my heart and kidneys plus the never-ending headaches and fatigue.
With more maintenance medicines, and with the little money now coming in from writing, I had to depend on my partner.
I met him during the pandemic.
Does pandemic love survive after the pandemic is over? A constant question in my head.
For someone who is in his 50s, I don’t want to be a burden to anyone.
I was worried.
. . .
My head is always busy with worries. I‘ve been battling with it since I was a child.
Would I get bullied today for being gay?
What would life be after Mom is gone?
It was endless.
. . .
A few weeks ago, I just woke up feeling better. Not 100%, but good enough that I wrote a story, had it published, and lay down back to bed.
I don’t force myself anymore.
Yes, I still worry about where are my readers from before.
I remember I have some personal bills to pay, and should I ask again from my partner?
I was worried.
Then an offer from my sibling, without me asking.
I took the offer. I paid my bills.
. . .
Now that I’m feeling better, I started writing again.
April is ending and my stories are not getting enough reads. One day, some news from my siblings. We have a chat group.
That soon, there’s money coming in for each one of us.
My thought about money is that if it isn’t there, it’s not there.
This week, the money came in.
It’s enough to tide me over for April.
. . .
Worry less, Sleep tight
When my doctor told me, I need to sleep for at least eight hours. I told him — “Who sleeps for 8 hours?”
He gave me some pills.
It was for anxiety and also some sleeping pills.
I took them for a short time, but it felt like the writer in me was in dreamland and never wanted to be disturbed.
I chose to have my writer in me back, sleep as early as I can and do more than the usual four hours of sleep I was having before.
Yesterday, I posted this on Facebook;
Have a little faith, God will take care of everything.
. . .
If I look back on life, and for someone who is now in his 50s, most of my worries in life never came true.
During the pandemic, I was worried that Mom would die from the virus, but she didn’t. Instead, she gave us her final gift, letting us know how much she loves us.
Is there life after Mom died, and after being one of her caregivers for seven years?
Yes.
I often ask Life, and I often get conflicting answers in my head. Now I know that life will happen in spite of what I think will happen.
I know my time is getting shorter by the day, and I intend to spend the rest of my days, not worrying and getting more sleep.
And I wish the same for you.
—
This post was previously published on body-mind-soul.
***
You may also like these posts on The Good Men Project:
White Fragility: Talking to White People About Racism | Escape the “Act Like a Man” Box | The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer | What We Talk About When We Talk About Men |
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