I was going to write a “birthday post” since yesterday was my birthday but once I got the thing started last night, I reread it and the thing bored ME to tears so I could only imagine how thrilled you would be to read it.
So instead of boring you with the details of my birthday, I shall bore you with my bout of depression that’s going on.
One of the main things that I’ve noticed since entering into the “online world” is that people like to talk a good game when it comes to mental illness/disorder and it seems like being “crazy” is the new black. BUT, hardly anyone wants to really talk about being crazy and mental illness still has a huge stigma associated with it.
I’m not embarrassed that I’ve talked to numerous counselors. I’m not embarrassed that I get “sad” [meaning really unmotivated and sleepy and moody and bitchy]. I’m not embarrassed of my [sometimes very evident] ADD. That’s all a part of who I am. Notice I didn’t say that it’s WHO I am – it’s just one part. Just like being a wife, mother, writer, smart ass etcetera all of those parts add up to the whole that is me and since I wouldn’t be nearly this bitchin’ if I lost any of those parts, I have to accept all of them and make the best of what I’ve got to work with.
Since one of my resolutions was to better track my moods, that’s what I’m doing today. Even though it’s taken me two days to write this and countless restarts, I’ve FINALLY gotten up the energy to write.
One thing that really sucks about working for yourself is that you have no one else to fall back on. You succeed or fail and you have only yourself to congratulate or blame. So when I’m going through one of these phases I have to work extra hard to MAKE myself get stuff done. One fucking step and key stroke at a time. Right now is when it’s really hard for me to do anything and I’m plowing through it.
Oddly enough, right now is also when I write my best stuff. Talk about a double edged sword. Good [sometimes great] fiction/short story writing but it’s like pulling teeth to get anything on paper or on the computer screen.
If I had been smart, I would have gotten a lot of stuff written while I was on the up swing so that I wouldn’t be under so much stress to churn stuff out right now but whatever. Again with the hand that I was dealt and all.
There’s no “moral” to this and no real proverbial light at the end of any tunnel other than the realization that this too shall pass since it always does. All I can do is try to not hide from it and to talk about it. Probably a lot.
I used to cringe whenever someone would call me crazy. For me, that was the worst thing that anyone could say to me or about me. Worse than calling me fat and almost as bad as someone calling me stupid. But I’m slowly [very slowly] starting to realize that hurting me by calling me crazy only works if I’m ashamed of it.
I’ve spent way too damn long being ashamed and fuck a bunch of that noise.