It’s been a while since I’ve written anything personal, and even now, my fingers hesitate over the keys for fear of being judged unfairly or being scrutinized and torn apart with blunt, rough hands.
I constantly struggle with depression, and I’m sure this is a part of it, but it’s not the ‘weeping on the floor, can’t get out of bed, tearing at my hair’ type of depression, so it isn’t so severe that it’s frightening.
Instead, I have this strange feeling of nothingness. I have no energy, I can’t seem to get excited about anything, and I spend a good deal of time lying in bed or on the couch, barely aware, without the urge or desire to get up and do anything. I don’t think I’m just being lazy.
I’d get up and go for a walk, but it’s raining. Or I’m tired. Or I’m sore. Or I just don’t want to. Or whatever other excuse I give myself.
I am a lump of a person, and I know that it’s taking its toll on me.
I have all but given up all social activity. I suggest get-togethers with friends — I try to engage with co-workers — but I know I’ll find a reason to cancel.
I’m writing this for myself, I suppose — to admit it in print. To have someone read it and say “I’ve been there — you’re normal.” or perhaps “Snap out of it. Force yourself to go for a walk. And then do it again tomorrow. And the next day… and the next. And eventually, you will drag yourself out of it.”
I want someone to hold me accountable. Someone to take me by the hand and say “Okay, it’s time to get out of this slump now.”
I’m tired of social media. I get so upset by stupidity and I find I cannot hold my tongue or stop myself from being condescending and judgmental — I admit this freely. With so much going on, I find it easier to hide.
I’m not writing, but that’s okay. My creativity has an outlet in making promos for SINGULARITY. I’ve also finally heard from Siren’s Call about VISCERA, and I’m working with their editor now. I’m also beginning talks with another writer about the possibility of publishing her book through Dilettante Publications, so I have so much to keep my mind occupied. I’m reading a hilarious novel by Christopher Moore. I’ve finally started watching American Horror Story: Freakshow and am enjoying it as much as I liked the very first series.
I can tell you what’s happening in my life. There is no hazy disconnect — and yet… and yet I could sleep the clock around and around right now. Getting up and going to work and making it through the day feels like drowning.
I don’t know who will read this — and it doesn’t matter. I’m not writing this for views or likes. I just needed to write it, and if anyone wants to talk to me about it, you know where to find me, and you will find me open to talking.