It’s been 5 months since I posted to this blog and I could offer every excuse in the book for neglecting my blog, but excuses are just that excuses. Most of it would be pure and utter bullshit even if I had the nerve to offer anything.
The truth is I’d given up. Not just on writing, but on life in general.
For thirteen years I’ve been struggling with depression. I’ve never been officially diagnosed, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out my head was broken, hell my spirit. I’ve been riding a roller coaster of insanity for so long I’ve forgotten what it was like not to be stuck riding it. It’s been a monumental effort simple to get out of bed in the morning. Even then there are days I get so damn lost in my own personal mire of self-hatred I forget to eat. The only thing that’s kept me on my feet is work. No matter how bad it’s gotten I’m the perfect little employee with a bright smile in my voice and on my face yet inside I feel as if there’s no point.
Maybe it’s my Irish stubbornness, I don’t know, but I’ve managed to banish any suicidal thoughts. Most days it hurts to simply breathe and behind closed doors I discover myself weeping tears enough to fill an ocean. I’ve started chain-smoking again, something I haven’t done in 20 years. And the strangest thing is I will start laughing for no damn reason as if the most insignificant thing is the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen or heard in my life.
Sheba, my ever present furry shadow has an unnerving ability to know when her mommy is on the edge. Days like that she never lets me out of her sight and distracts me with her playful antics. She breathes life into me when I seem to be a mummified husk and no matter how sad I feel she manages to get a genuine smile out of me…Something my human companions cannot seem to do. Or maybe I’m just not allowing them to.
A couple of months ago I started to come out of my self-induced coma. Don’t get me wrong the depression has not magically vanished. If only shit worked that way. I still need to see a doctor, but having no insurance is a pain in the ass. My only option is to go to a city run clinic and I’m not sure I’d trust going to one mainly due to the fact the folks at these clinics are overwhelmed as it is. Maybe I’m simply a chicken shit, afraid to seek help because if I do it makes my situation too damn real.
Any who…Back to the point.
I started dipping my toe back into the writing and I’ve managed more writing in the past two months than in the previous two years. I refuse to get too excited, but I’m getting back into the swing of things. Okay I’m wearing training wheels, but what the hell.
Hope has to start somewhere right?