The Suck

Oh, how the Suck and I have been dancing lately. I am finishing a book - you know, THE book, the one that, even if it never gets published, has already changed my life. And we're at the VERY LAST STEPS - the writing of proposal, the polishing of prose. THE VERY END OF THE PROCESS. And we have been here - locked into a Suck Dance - for the past six months.I was almost done (or so I thought) when my mother was wheeled down the hall for open heart surgery. She came out, thank God, and healed and healed. And the day after that, on the day she took her first walk outside, she came back inside and fell, breaking her thigh.All of this totally sucked.Meanwhile, my father was sitting in a nursing home, getting more and more disabled - which, you know, sucks.And just before that, well, the economy - and my husband, a self-employed architect, lost all of his clients.Suck.But I soldiered on - with this little song in my head: This sucks but I will not let it stop me. This sucks but I am going to write anyway. This sucks but I am finishing my book.Catchy little tune.And that did not suck. Not one bit. It was breathtaking - a drop into a soft basket filled with angel feathers; a plunge into an ocean of light, love and life. And the book that emerged is incredible. It's so beautiful. It really is. It's my refuge, a world that I could crawl into in the middle of the Suck Storm and rest.But then, writing the book began to suck.Suddenly, it was all about proposals and deadlines and agents -which was, I thought, the sucky part. It was also the part where I, under normal circumstances, would... well... quit.But I didn't quit. But that didn't make me feel less anxious. So I got sick.I got achy and sleepy and bored and anxious and then I got bitten by a tick and wouldn't you know it! That tick gave me Lyme disease. And that sucked.And then today, while on the way to the yoga class that was supposed to calm me down, I dropped the garbage can on my foot and cracked my toenail in half. It bled. It hurt like hell. Let me reiterate. The GARBAGE can.See, here's the thing. I'm too smart to pretend that I don't know what's going on. Even as it's happening, I know.I'm scared.But it wasn't until I nearly broke my toe that I realized the purpose of the Suck. It's not just a distraction - it's a diversion, a clever technique that my psyche has concocted to help me channel my end of book project anxiety into something besides shredding my beautiful book out of fear that it or I wont be good enough.The suck makes me stop and pay attention to where I amCuz I forget to do that on my mad rush to the grocery store->to hit my deadlines-> to lose 35 pounds->to call my son before 3 but after 12->to witness my daughters's amazing dream->to edit my husband's science fiction action hero comic book novel->to outrun the aging process->to not disappoint anyone->to not miss another dental appointment-> to pay my bills less late->to make dinner before I fall asleep->The suck makes me stronger. The suck makes me gratefulThe suck has taught me so much:To write anyway. To sleep anyway. To love anyway.To show up where I'm supposed to be on time and in relatively clean clothing.To delegate - and to honor and appreciate the people to whom I've delegated.To sit beside hospital beds and be truly grateful to be there, witnessing the healing of someone I love.To wait. To trust. To know that, no matter how long it takes to finish this book, the angels will make sure it finds its way into the hands of everyone who needs it.What has the suck taught you?Inspired by a post from my friend, Fabeku, aka @fabeku