Every now and then, I wake up in the morning really feeling the need to put words to paper. I imagine what the topic will be, or the way the first sentence will read. It feels good. Like a power that I can harness on my laptop using Microsoft Word. Then, I sit down at my desk, turn on the computer and stare at a blank screen for half an hour.
Sometimes I feel almost as if one of the great literary works of our time is going to come flowing from my mind and into my working fingers. I imagine a happiness that above all else and despite any obstacles I have attained due to my incredible knack for the written word.
Then my brain replies back, “Yeah…not so much”. It isn’t as if I can’t think of a single thing to write about. I have too much to write about and no clear cut way of making any sense in the process. I often refer to it as writer’s block. Is that it, or is it just one more way that my depression keeps me from happiness.
If you look up “racing thoughts” online, you will often be directed to Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD). I know and understand that this is part of my diagnosis. It is categorized by excessive, out-of-control worrying about every day things. Are my racing thoughts about all of my possible writing topics really just me worrying about anything and everything?
It doesn’t feel that way in the moment, but perhaps it’s something that I need to consider. The most difficult part of this condition is the desire to just give up if I can’t calm the images in my mind. It’s too hard, so I give up writing that day. Maybe that is the best solution to help preserve my sanity. Those of us experiencing depression on a daily basis already have so much to struggle with. I don’t think I need to add something that will send the pile spilling over into oblivion.
I have been asked to guest blog for a few different websites. I want to do it with every fiber of my being. However, the fear is always inside of me…what if I can’t keep up? I went years without writing a single word on a piece of paper. Suppose I fall back into the same pattern, and I can’t fulfill my obligations? It terrifies me. I am all too aware that this fear will eventually lead to feelings of failure.
I don’t ever want this disease to become the excuse that keeps me from real life. On good days, I want to conquer the world. On bad days, I need to take one step at a time, feeling lucky if I remember to eat. I long to find a balance. So, I will take each day as it comes. Hope for more good than bad, and figure it out as I go. I plan on looking back at each chapter, paragraph and sentence as me overcoming my fear of the unknown.
I think I can be happy with that for now.