Tag Archives: perfect self

My Writing and Depression

I feel like I should grab my virtual broom and start knocking the cobwebs off of this blog. I haven’t posted in here since June. JUNE. You may have forgotten I existed or have moved onto somewhere else. If you’re still here, I really appreciate it. And I’m so very sorry that I haven’t been around. I’ve been going through my own thing. Trying to wrap my brain around the stuff I needed to do.

depression, self image, my writing

I was visiting family and friends in West Virginia for much of this summer. Whenever I come home, I feel a bit of relief and some sadness. Relief that I’m home and not couch surfing. My bed is here and my partner is beside of me. I can begin to rebuild my certain kind of normal, which is off-center and hangs to the left. Sad because I can’t just teleport everyone here too.

We’ve been visiting for five years. This time around things didn’t just perk back up like they normally do. I felt so down. So low. I am a very good actor. My Mom always told me that I should’ve gone into acting. I was the Rudy Huckstable of our family. I find that I still act to this day, but now it’s more acting that everything is fine.

No worries here.

I’m ok.

You’re ok?

I’m definitely ok.

I haven’t been ok. I’ve felt overwhelmed, stressed, and feeling inept. The entire laundry list of insecurities that writers fight upon occasion have taken roost in my mind and for the life of me, this dirty laundry won’t come clean. I can’t just shout it out.

I started retreating. This is what I do. And I started dropping balls and feeling horrible about it all. The snowball in full effect.

It’s tiring to hold it in. Tiring to play pretend regularly. I spoke to my friend, Burgess. She suggested that I make a video about it. Maybe since I’d already had my nightly Ambien, but I felt like I could do it. I immediately hopped off-line and recorded this.

I haven’t magically fixed myself. I’m still struggling over here. But I’m trying to fight it now. And I’m trying to be kinder to myself. I’m not perfect. That woman I want to be is a dream. She’s that unattainable perfect. I have to try to not allow myself to feel like a shadow of this image. She is a shadow of me.

Do you ever feel like this? Maybe we can chat ourselves into not feeling alone.



Filed under writing