You never know when old demons are going to rear their ugly heads. In Mizha’s case, it’s as soon as she turns around.
I’ve been dealing with my own set of demons this weekend. I’d been feeling pretty good lately about the future. My next kid’s writing workshop started and I’ve got a focused group this time with more children joining than I expected. We’ve got Emerald City Comic Con coming up at the end of the month, a new side-project launching hopefully the end of this week, new people supporting us on Patreon, I don’t normally feel optimistic about things, but for once I felt like I could believe that everything was going to work out for the best somehow.
Annnnnd then I updated my expenses & budget spreadsheets.
My analyst says that everyone has a Money Complex of some sort. Lately for me, it means running the numbers, getting really scared of the future, and then bursting into tears as I apologize to Cory for “ruining our lives.”
The good news is Cory has seen this Complex before, and he’s getting better at the counter-argument. “That job was, quite literally, killing you,” he’ll remind me. “So we might be struggling a little, financially. It’s a short-term loss for a long-term investment in our dreams.”
Cory has an amazing capacity for faith that I simply do not possess. I always believe that everything I do will be a hopelessly valiant effort ultimately culminating in failure. I work mostly because the alternative is giving up and being dead, whether in the figurative or literal sense. Cory actually believes we can do this. And that gives me a lot of hope. And hope is still not a feeling I’m used to feeling.
“You want to know what I find really scary?” he asked me this Saturday, as I brooded over bills. “The idea of waiting to start one great novel idea until after I’ve retired. What’s the point of waiting until 65 before I even start doing what I truly want to do?”
It reminded me of a documentary I’d watched on Stan Lee recently. An interviewer had asked him when he was going to retire, and he replied, “People retire so they can do the thing they’ve always wanted to do. I’m already doing what I’ve always wanted to do! Why would I retire?”
I’m so grateful to have Cory with me on this journey. Not only am I excited to one day release the project we’re co-writing right now together, but he brings an optimistic faith to this effort that keeps me going when I’m ready to fall apart. He shines a light in the faces of those demons. He gives me hope.
Who or what gives you hope on your journey?