As anyone who has followed my blog over the past year knows I’ve had a rough time of it in the writing department. For months I struggled with writer’s block and bouts of depression. To be honest there were moments I even had suicidal thoughts. I’m not saying this to get sympathy, not in the least, but I feel it necessary to be honest with myself and air the dirty laundry so to speak.
Few people realized how deep the depression had buried me. If not for a handful of close peeps who refused to allow me to pull the dirt over my head I imagine I wouldn’t be sitting here writing this. I’m a private person by nature often at the cost of my peace of mind. It started to scare me when I began thinking the world would be better off without me. Even my best friends had no idea how bad it had gotten. I was unable to sleep, my eating habits were atrocious, and I would set for hours staring at a blank document never writing a word until at some point I’d break down in tears.
After months of agonizing thoughts, playing ideas over repeatedly in my head on what I needed to do to fix my condition I realized if I was going to get control of my life back there was only one person who could help me. That person was staring back from the mirror at me. No one was going to fix my life, but me. So my true soul-searching journey started.
I moved to a new apartment, cleared tons of clutter from my life, and opened myself up to new experiences like I hadn’t since I was in my twenties. There was a moment, halfway through a two-mile hike at the end of summer when I was standing at the edge of mountain side and staring out over miles of hills and hollows. The sight took my breath away, wind in my hair, and the sun beating down on my face. In that moment I felt far more free than I had in twenty years. The child I had been was in awe at the beauty surrounding me and I felt as if the fist of God (or whatever you may call the creator) was surrounding my heart. I was sure if death came to me right then I would fight it for my survival because finally my desire to live–truly live–found itself once more. I knew what to do now, but I had to find the courage to do so no matter how hard it might be.
It was then with a heavy heart I sent my publisher of 2 1/2 years a letter on Sunday informing them I would no longer be submitting manuscripts. I also requested that when my contracts ended the rights revert back to me. Things did not work out the way I had hoped in the end, but I won’t go into it here. To painful and it would be unprofessional to do so in a public forum. Suffice to say I will be always grateful and feel blessed for the opportunities given me and the people I met through the experience.
If you follow my blog on a regular basis please hang in there. There will be some massive changes being as my writing is no longer available with my previous publisher. I’ll be revamping and hopefully in the near future my previously published works might find a new home. Time has yet to tell what the outcome of this drastic change will be, but I refuse to think I will never write again.
As I have said in the past being a writer for me is not a job, it is a part of who I am.