Every few years, I try to come back to Blogger, and talk about writing. I try to keep it focused on writing, and little snapshots of my day to day life -- the fun, anecdotal snippets that I enjoy sharing.
I freely admit that, while there has been plenty of fun and enjoyable parts of my life over the past few years, the Depression(TM) has kept me from being able to truly focus on those parts. Depression has kept me from truly immersing myself in my writing the way I used to. Reading and writing were once my escape from the depression, though I was young enough that I didn't have the knowledge to name it that.
I've been struggling with the same story for going on a third year now. I've fallen in and out of love with it every three months, starting over, recycling old bits, and crafting new parts. There's so much I genuinely adore, but there's so much I've grown to hate. And I don't remember how to get back to that excited feeling I know I felt when I first began.
And I know this is a common issue among writers; there are any number of articles and twitter threads about falling out of love with your story, and rediscovering that spark, and the reasoning behind the phenomenon. I've spent the better part of three years of my life with story -- of course I'm tired of it. But I do feel like there's a lot of it that I'm looking at through the mud-colored glasses of depression, and I can't seem to take the damn things off.
Tomorrow marks the One Month Anniversary of beginning anti-depressants. I can definitely say that I've noticed a marked difference just in four weeks. And, y'know, if your brain can't produce its own dopamine/seratonin, store-bought is fine, too. I'm perfectly okay with this. But it's also not a cure-all. This doesn't make the depression disappear; it makes me capable of functioning through it. I plan on talking to my doctor about upping my dosage, though, because there are some things that are still difficult, even after this period of time, and I think increasing it will help. If it doesn't, I talk to her again, and we figure it out.
But I want to fall in love with writing again. Not just this particular story -- if I never finish this one, but I come back to others and I can find that joy again, I'll call it a win. But opening that document with a feeling of dread isn't how I want to feel about writing anymore. It's gone on too long.
I have no guarantee that I'll come back to blogging with any sense of regularity. I hope so. I used to enjoy blogging so much when I was younger (because 25 is soooo old lol) and depression took that from me, too. But maybe I will. Maybe I won't. I suppose we'll see.