A long time ago, back when I was a sophomore in high school, I had been writing stories for about a year, and I decided that I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. The day I decided this was October 14th, 1992, and I have always used that date as the first day of my writing season. The point that I could look back and see what I accomplished.
For about 9 years, I was solidly creating written work that I could collect year by, and look back and see how I was improving, or what was still being work on. Then in 2001, I took a play writing class, and that pretty much set my on the theatre path, and the writing started to dwindle, to the point that I had many years where I didn’t write anything. I was still journaling, nut the date would come and go, and I really didn’t give it more than a glancing thought, like, “Oh, that thing I used to do.”
Last year on this day, my mother passed away. Leading up to today, I was filled with some anxiety and an all around feeling of just being unsettled. I wasn’t sure how I should feel about today. When her birthday came and went, I felt depressed. With the Holidays, it was a general feeling of sadness. But getting to today, the day she died, was filled with dread. I kept seeing it on the calendar, knowing that I would have a full day of being reminded of her passing, and thinking about what the day like today used to mean to me.
This was a day where I would reflect on what I had creatively accomplished in a year. The thoughts I had tried, or the ideas that just never worked out. It was a day for what I had created, and now, it’s a day to think about what I have lost.
These feelings are mixed together, and its melancholy. I’m not depressed, just sad. Other than that, I’m not sure how to feel.
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