On being ill

It is well into October and I am sitting at my computer in a jumper and jeans, looking out into dreary, grey skies, my hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea.  With a lot of my short stories set in a desert scape it is difficult to get inspired with rain lashing against the windows.  I guess that is why I love the dry heat of a typical summer in south-east Queensland.   All I have to do is burn a little sandalwood and I’m instantly drawn into the spice filled cities and shimmering deserts of my fantasy world. 

As I mentioned in my previous post, I’m currently on three months leave and whilst some of that time is filled with hospital appointments I’m trying to fill every spare moment with writing.  This morning after dropping my daughter off at school, I came home, popped an Endone and glued myself to my desk.  It is a wonderful feeling, being able to indulge wholeheartedly in something you love doing without distractions.  Even though I keep getting told to rest I’ve still been trying to carry on as normal, so much so that I almost found myself back up at the hospital last Friday night.  Tom Hodgkinson wrote that everyone, everywhere disapproves of being ill.  There is a climate of guilt around it because of the time it takes away from useful, productive work.  As a single, working Mother of a special needs child my life can be rather hectic and I often find myself feeling guilty about taking time out to write when I could be catching up on the housework or planning my daughters’ next therapy session. Being ill, Hodgkinson wrote, should be welcomed as a holiday from responsibility and burden.  It is a hard mindset to break but I’m slowly and surely getting there.

On another note, you may have noticed that I have closed the blog that I had dedicated purely to my writing.  I realised that I just cannot separate the two areas of my life.  They are intertwined and make up who I am.  I find writing about my daughter therapeutic and helps during those times when I’m suffering ‘writer’s block’.