I finally figured it out. At long last, I know why I haven’t been able to update this blog over the past few months.
I’ve logged onto WordPress so many times during the “hiatus,” trying to come up with something to share with the ether. Sometimes I stare at the blank page while it dares me to fill it with some wit and panache. Once in a while I’ll crank something out, trite and worthless, and I send that mugglefucker to the Trash faster than you can say Riddikulus.
It’s not that I haven’t wanted to write. Contrary to popular belief, writing for a living in no way impedes my desire to scribble all the livelong day. Sure, it’s hard after a long day of cranking out articles and posts with someone else’s voice to switch gears and do it for my own blog…I mean, it’s kind of like a hooker finishing her shift and then inviting a random up to her place.
But that’s not the problem. It’s not that I didn’t want to write. I just didn’t want to share it. And after months of trying to crack the code, I finally nailed it, thanks to my dear friend Tricia’s amazing blog about her trip traversing the Grand Canyon. It’s a fabulous read, and it made me realize what I’ve been missing: a sense of accomplishment. Tricia’s post is so triumphant and invigorating, and I’ve been so overwhelmed the past few months with textbook hallmarks of depression: feelings of worthlessness, malaise, raincloud over head that is cured when playing with a kitten or a toddler (that’s what the commercials tell me, anyway). It’s been a rough patch, make no mistake. From May to July, it was like the Universe’s Greatest “Fuck You” Hits was on a loop. I won’t go into the gory details, but suffice it to say that from family to money to health to money to career to money to family again, it was just a little too much for my brainpan to bear. Hence, the rock bottom-ness of the past few months.
So feeling like I haven’t had anything shareworthy to, well, share, has really been a roadblock on my writing journey. My feelings of self-worth have always been tied up in what I’ve accomplished, and the rekindling of my long-dormant relationship with depression made it physically impossible to feel like I’d accomplished anything, let alone something to be proud of to share with the class.
But it’s a new dawn, a new day, and every morning, it gets a little easier. It DOES get better, gay kids! All jokeyjokes aside, I’m fine now, honestly. I’m not at a solid 10 yet, but I’m no longer at the fair-to-middlin’ 3s and 4s I was hanging out with last month.
That’s the good news. The bad news? I packed on about fifteen pounds of miserychunk. I’m a chubby bunny, ladies and gents. Just when I thought I’d seen the last of my size 8 jeans, suddenly they’re the only things that fit.
I went from this:
So, it’s back in the saddle! I’m on a major health & wellness kick now, and I’m going to be blogging about it daily as part of my attempts to make it a priority. Stay tuned.
As for the rest of my un-shambled life, things are ever on the rise. I have a job that I love, I have the most amazing friends and family in all the ‘verse, and the little cartoon raincloud over my head is finally starting to run out of wet.
So, the lesson I’ve learned from all this? Taking a shower and playing with a kitten does not in fact cure depression. I should sue the pharmaceutical marketing people for their false advertising. You know what does help? Forcing yourself out of your pajamas, facing up to the real world, and taking control of your life. It’s not easy. In fact, it’s incredibly difficult and makes you feel like you just want the bed to swallow you up like it’s in a Japanese horror film. But every day gets a little better, with some help from a support system, a bit of good luck, and a slap-yo-mama can-do attitude.
Tune du Jour: The Show by Lenka