As of Monday, June 24, it will have been three years since I published a book.
I never really felt comfortable calling myself an author. Writer maybe, but author always felt like a moniker I didn’t deserve. Like I was making myself out to be something I’m not. Like I’m unworthy of that title. I’m just me.
And now it’s been so long that I struggle to even call myself a writer. It’s not that the stories aren’t there… they come and go, hitting me at all these moments they used to, and I start to feel like I could write again. Like I could really finish one of the many stories I’ve starting writing down. A couple are so close… so very close. I just can’t quite pull off the happily ever after.
And then suddenly there’s drama…
I can't blame anyone else… it’s me. I’ve created it, and it comes forefront until I can’t focus. The stories disappear. All I want to do is sleep. Or run away. Or run away to sleep.
Before you ask, yes, I am being medicated for depression. I have been pretty much since I was 16 years old. And, yes, I’m seeing a shrink. This is more recent, but has been happening since late last fall.
Some days are better than others. Some therapy sessions are better than others. For the most part, I go in there and cry for an hour, leaving feeling drained. It’s cathartic. Yet, I can’t shake this worthless feeling.
I miss losing myself in a storyline and letting the characters’ lives play out in my mind. I miss the triumphant sensation of actually finishing a book. Of playing Do or Die as I hit publish. I miss my fictional realities. I miss my writing persona and my book friends. I keep starting stories and they sit in pieces, mocking my creativity… the electronic equivalent of a few scribbles that sit collecting dust, never developing into their full potential. I used to publish every 3-4 months. The months have now become years. Battling the turmoil I create in the world around me is so exhausting. I feel like a tornado that wrecks everything I touch. I cause chaos and it ensues.
I miss you, my friends and my readers… and I miss me… I haven't really felt like me since I was a writer…