After my spectacular train trip at the end of May I was feeling quite exhausted. I didn’t sleep well the entire time I was away (but I still can’t speak highly enough of how much I enjoyed myself). Besides that, I finished my manuscript which is pretty freaking cool.
Unfortunately, since doing that I haven’t really managed to write anything. Not anything interesting. Not anything funny. Nothing at all. I’ve tried, but lately I’ve been feeling a lot of anxiety unrelated to my writing. Unfortunately, my mind has a difficult time compartmentalizing this anxiety and it causes some collateral damage. It has caused more sleep problems, inability to even, and a persistent feeling of lethargy. Worse than all of this, I don’t feel good about myself or anything that I’m doing right now (apart from my husband, who I always feel good about doing and I hope vice-versa).
On a serious note though, I’ve struggled with depression for a very long time. While I’ve had some long periods of ‘being better’ I always worry about what happens when I’m not better. I always worry that people will finally just get sick of me and why I just can’t stay better. I know, deep down, that they won’t, that my friends and family love and support me, but there’s still that nagging voice in the back of my mind. The pernicious voice that exploits my insecurities.
I constantly remind myself that Depression Lies, that I’m not a bad person. I’m not hopeless. I’ve been here before and I think there are things that I can do. Actually there are some things that I am doing/going to be doing in the next little while which ought to help alleviate some of the stress. Nothing drastic mind you, just some scaling back so I can do a better job at taking care of myself.
In the meantime, I’m going to be easing back into writing, with at least some of it just for me. Hopefully I can get back to my usual irreverent self soon.