Random Musings

Just living, I guess.

Yesterday, I was drowning in my own mind, unable to take a breath, tumbling over and over beneath the waves of voices telling me all the things you’d never say to another human being. I asked my wife, “What if the voices are right? What if they’re the ones I should be listening to, not the people out here in reality who are just being kind?”

She argued and reassured me, as she has done for the past twelve years when I descend into my particular brand of mental health madness. She is kind and gentle and does her best to make me laugh. Sometimes it works. Yesterday my ears were clogged by the body shaking sobs I finally let out.

And she really doesn’t need this right now.

Not with us launching a new business, not with having to be present for her mum’s dementia and her dad’s support system, not with…well, everything else. She assures me her shoulders are wide enough and strong enough to take it all on. I still feel guilty for not being the strong person at her side right now, so my shoulders can take some of that weight too.

But enough about the disaster that is me.

On Saturday we’ll be at Newquay Pride, sitting in our book stall, and hopefully the rain will hold off and allow us to have great chats with readers. It’s a new one for us and we’re looking forward to it. (Sadly, our usual pride, Leicester, put up stall prices which puts it out of our range.)

And we’re working hard on Queer the Shelves Infinite, a subscription app just for LGBTQ books. It’s a safe space for our stories, a place that isn’t at the whim of political movement. If you’re a writer in the LGBTQ community, we hope you’ll go check it out. (Or a reader. We need you too.)

I’m writing a new Brey book, though it has been sidelined slightly for the last few weeks with everything else going on. But the story itself is solid in my head, and after winning a Goldie Award for Ship of Dreams a few weeks ago, I’m feeling like I might have another one in me.

And so, maybe that’s the point of going through all the dark stuff. Maybe it’s just…to live. To do the things. To have done the things. Maybe that’s enough.