This is not fiction, this is my real life.
You know how you feel sick sometimes right? And then sometimes the sickness isn’t actually a sickness at all? If you were following this post I’ve probably lost you by now.
Well, here it is, laid out neatly or as neatly as I am able right at this moment.
An illness that isn’t an illness but kind of is, is depression. Yes, the bouncing, happy little elf that trots about droppings daisies and rainbows has been to a doc or two and now has some happy pills, for a short time I’m promised, that will perform the nice trick of pulling one out of a dreadful torpor that descended and stayed about a month or two ago.
Depression, for a writer, is traditionally thought to be pure gold for the creative spirit. Let me tell you, it really isn’t. Now sadness, that’s gold. Oh yes my dear friend, being sad exposes those roots of anguish, fear and self-loathing as well as a loathing for certain others, that lead tortured souls to a nirvana of creative yumminess. Sadness one can handle. Sadness, the sort that comes, stays for a week or two and leaves only memories and weird stains that foil all efforts at identification; that sort of sadness is fine and altogether a good thing overall. But depression, that flattening of emotion that brings neither joy nor misery, the sort of feeling one gets in an empty, brand new house, unfurnished and painted beige, that feeling, that nothing – that is awful.
Writing requires passion. It requires some focus. It requires the writer to feel. And so I’ve not been working at what I love because everything has all been sort of blech! Dont worry, I won’t be doing a Sylvia Plath on you.
Please forgive this exposing of the throat that is so ill-advised. At any other time I would be horrified to reveal such flawed humanity. Professional distance and all that. But. For those loyal friends who follow this one blog in the millions of blogs out there, I feel I owe you something.
This is my vow. The writing may trickle out for a time but when everything is sorted out I shall open the floodgates and all manner of creative junk will pump out into your poor, sodden laps. Lucky you, eh? ^_^
Seriously, thanks for your patience. It means a lot.
Love, Elise ^_^