How does that work, for writers? Fiction is easier, I suppose. One just re-enters the world created by the pen and continues where one left off. Work the problems out, write the happy ending.
Real life isn't so easy to escape. When bad things happen in clusters--even not-so-bad, just annoying and expensive--an overwhelming funk starts to creep in. I try to remind myself that these issues are first-world problems; my basic needs are more than well-met, anything else is icing on the cake, and I just need to stop the whining and move on.
The self-talk and gratitude journaling isn't working this week. I just want to run away to a retreat center and sleep and walk and meditate and pray and eat salads, then come home to a magically clean house with all my bills paid and everything is fixed and all deadlines are met.
Maybe escaping into fiction is exactly what I need.
