Update: Mortality breathes a silence
Bereavement left outHouse on hold, but the newsletter hasn't gone away
THINGS have been quiet on the outHouse front these last few months.
There's been good reason for that, although plans to announce the pause in a more timely manner went somewhat awry; apologies for that.
Since it was launched in early 2022, outHouse was produced around the demands of being an unpaid carer for a parent with dementia. I never knew from one week to the next if I’d be able to sustain it.
Eventually, the toll began to tell so at the end of January a decision was made to take a break.
A fortnight or so later, my father went into hospital following a fall. The prognosis wasn't good and eventually we made the decision to bring him home to receive palliative care in familiar surroundings, kept company by his family.
Sadly he passed away in March. After three years, my watch has ended.
My situation has changed profoundly. There's a lot still to sort out; my father's affairs, decluttering the accumulations of a lifetime, my own prospects.
Mentally I'm readjusting to this new reality: I was geared up for the long haul, fully expecting to be my dad's carer to year's end at least. Now, everything is in flux.
Quite where this leads is a work in progress. Obviously, I need to sort out my livelihood. Savings don't last forever. The jobs market, here I come. My writing, if at all possible, must start paying for itself, too.
As any writer will tell you, that one is easier said than done.
Inevitably, the current situation has sent my writing into disarray. Even discounting that need for a break, these last few months it's been patchy and intermittent at best. It's something else I'm working on, to put it all back on track.
Perhaps it’s also inevitable that I've found myself questioning my priorities, even the realities, of my endeavours. Am I, even, a writer at all, or just some word-doodling fraud? Well, I have ever been a martyr to ill-confidence and imposter syndrome. Some things never change.
Quite where this leaves outHouse, I don't know. At the moment I'm finding my feet again, getting back into the world, trying to regain a sense of my place within it.
Honestly, there are times when I feel like Gollum blinking in the unfamiliar sunlight, having finally crawled out of his cave.
Thanks first to covid lockdown, then the demands of dementia, I've been borderline housebound these last three years. It's been a strange period, but for all the emotional ups and downs, I wouldn't change it.
I guess I’m also on a journey of discovery; exploring how the last three years have changed me. For sure, the experience must have left its mark. I can’t say how, just yet.
Meanwhile, there's also a new writing venture I have just – foolishly? – embarked upon: an author newsletter, right here on Substack. As if that's not enough, I'm trying to crack on with my next novel.
Clearly, I am a glutton for punishment.
Right now, then, I'm refuelling my mojo; putting together a routine and rediscovering my rhythm. Things are likely to remain quiet here – and across my other sites – while I ease myself back into the swing of things. Quiet, but not silent.
For now, I'm limiting myself to occasional, intermittent posts, but fresh material is on its way. As circumstances change, and my situation becomes clearer, then hopefully this newsletter will grow and evolve. Well, that's the aim.
Until then, what with everything, I might be taking it one day at a time – but I'm not going away. Care to join me? I'd love to have you. Subscribing is free.
Thanks for bearing with me.
MC