Writers aren't exactly people, they're a lot of people trying to be one person. F.Scott Fitzgerald

Sunday, August 22, 2010

What the Hell happened? Or how I became an invisible person.

Oh how I looked forward to the day I could retire and pursue my dream of making and selling my woodcarvings and writing wildly popular novels,which would be snapped up by a well known publishing house and sold for enough money to support me. I would then purchase a modernized cottage facing the windswept cliffs and  seacoast of Ireland with the mountains almost in my backyard and continue to pursue both of my lucrative professions.Of course that was far into the future, as I was a fairly healthy woman of sixty something.Then I injured my knees at work at needed some surgery to repair the damage. Recovered, I headed back to work. Re-injured my left knee,which required a total knee replacement. Okay,no problem,I'm mostly healthy. I can do this. I  injured my right shoulder and had to have an excruciatingly painful surgery which left me with fifty percent use of my left arm. Overhead lifting was gone for good with that arm.I returned to work and discovered I had so many restrictions I was no longer able to do my job efficiently. Also my injured knee was increasingly painful. My knee cap had shifted and was pressing against nerves I didn't know I had.At that point I was almost broke,even with medical insurance and disability payments I had  paid a lot out of pocket and ran out of paid medical leave and vacation and sick time.I discovered that bending,stooping,lifting, reaching anything over my head and even braiding my own hair, was a thing of the past At this point I had seemed to have no choice but to retire and move in with my adult daughter and her family.I began to draw social security checks after the disability checks ran out. I was not wise or prudent with my savings. However,not all was my doing. We, spent a lot of money moving to Alaska where my kids found well paying jobs. Then the job played out and we spent a lot of money moving to Anchorage and then   back to the lower 48.I realized and not for the first time,I had made some really unwise decisions that seemed great at the time.
        So that is an abbreviated version of how I came to be an invisible person. Oh I still write,but I had no clue as to how much learning the craft of writing was going to take and how hard it is to get published. So I sit in my room,read books and write.Will I ever get to Ireland or be a great writer and have an agent and have books published. Welll..,let's just say that miracles do happen every day and leave it at that.

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