Wednesday, February 10, 2021

 February 10, 2021


I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it in these essays, but I never binged watched anything until the last half of 2019. That seems like ancient history, but in fact I’m referring to a period of time that began about twenty months ago. That was the year my brother had his first stroke, and my son, who has type 1 diabetes, had a problem on one of his big toes, a blister that wasn’t healing. And those two crises were the reason for the binging.

It was a stressful four months, June through September. I found I was having a lot of trouble writing. After struggling for the words, I decided to try something different.

I bought the entire series of Downton Abbey—the complete multi-season experience. And I watched it over the course of about a week, I think it was. I hadn’t understood the concept of binge watching before that. Both my husband and my daughter have binged watched on several occasions—sometimes the same series at the same time but on separate devices—but I had never seen the attraction.

I suppose I should say that particular experience was a conscious choice on my part to “escape” for a bit. And hell, that was even before the damned pandemic. But while the pandemic has been a definite distraction, it hasn’t hit at my heart the way those threats to two of my beloved family members did.   

I’m glad I did indulge myself and take a week to just binge, even as I understood on one level that I was wasting time. I had a book to write, after all. But in the moment, I didn’t see how I could do that, because my mind was not cooperating with me. I didn’t want to think about my story. I could only think about my brother, and my son, both of whom were facing major challenges. So I binged and took that little escape because at the time it was what I’d needed to do. The book, of course, got written. And the delay didn’t put me behind my publisher’s schedule, just my own.

The problem with using “having a book to write” as an excuse to not waste time is that I always have a book to write. The process is not as fast as it was for me just a few short years ago. I used to routinely have days when I was able to produce two or three thousand words. In fact, in my career, I’ve had days when I’ve written as many as seven thousand words!

But not for a long, long time. In fact, now that I think about it, I feel fairly confident in saying, certainly not since my husband retired at the end of 2017, have I been able to amass a large quantity of progress in one day.

I don’t believe the fact of his retirement has negatively impacted my productivity. I would say that actually, it’s just the opposite. I recall thinking in the months after he’d been home for awhile how happy I was because I was able to work better than I had imagined I would with him at home.

What I do believe, however, is that his retirement coincided with my reaching a point in age that brought with it a slowing down of everything.

In that regard this pandemic sure isn’t helping. Apparently, our lockdown in this area will be done on February 16th. It’s been in force since December 26th. That’s been a long time. I’ve left the house once during that time—I had to get my quarterly blood work in advance of my next doctor’s appointment, which will be in the form of a phone call this coming Thursday.

Now, even when the restrictions are lifted and restaurants are open again to partial in-person dining, I won’t be going to one. That’s something I’ll consider after we have received our vaccinations, and of course, depending on how the infection numbers are running. I haven’t been in a restaurant since the first of March 2020—in other words, pre-pandemic. I will, perhaps, drive us to pick up take-out. But when the restrictions are lifted, we may find ourselves going for a drive once a week which technically we can’t do right now.

Provided, of course, that we no longer have arctic air surrounding us when we go outside. There was a time when I enjoyed going out and feeling a bit of that stinging cold on my face. That wasn’t just pre-pandemic. It was pre-arthritis.

Come to think of it, it was also pre being in my fifties.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury

 


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