I will freely acknowledge that it's been some time since I posted on this blog, so allow me to open with apologies.
A lot has happened over the past few months, including a bout of depression, ranging from mild to severe, and refreshed anxiety. I have struggled with my self-confidence, and it has led to doubt, unhappiness, and general uncertainty. When I have looked at my writing, I have found myself flipping between loving it and thinking it is the worst thing to inflict on this earth, often within seconds of each other. As a result, the book that I wanted to finish the final draft of by today - the book that I feel should be done by now - is only in its third draft.
The problem with knowing I was behind on my book - playing video games or watching television when I could have been working - is that it served not to motivate me, but to drive me further into this depression and anxiety. And when my best friend would call me (not knowing what he was doing) and try and put on the pressure for me to work harder, I instead stopped working. It made me hate myself more; it drove my body image issues, and my anger at myself for being such a damned slacker in everything. Don't get me wrong, there is such a thing as good stress, good pressure; this is the stuff that drives us to bring our best, to constantly strive to work harder and do better. But too much of it ceases to be productive, and turns that positive stress into a toxin that leaches into your body and soul.
This endless feedback loop has had me spinning my wheels for months: more depressed, less motivated, hating myself, angry, trying to work and failing, more depressed, less motivated, hating myself, and so on.
The thing about depression and anxiety is that there is not always a discernible cause; sometimes you can point at the specific trigger, but other times it is seemingly random with a trigger that is so minor or non existent that all you can do is ride it out. Depression is not the Monday blues. It is not sadness in response to a specific event. It is not something that can be ushered away by things like "suck it up," or "cheer up," or "get over it." It is more subtle than that, more insidious.
It sucks the color out of your world, removes motivation, and obliterates your drive for social interaction. It makes you moody, yes, but in a way where you feel completely isolated and alone, even if loved ones surround you. It is a constant baseline of misery, eating away at you; it is an unrelenting and unrepentant attacker.
It is as if the flu, bringing on every possible symptom the flu can bring, has decided to target your mind instead of your body. It is a broken leg, an autoimmune disease, paralysis, a migraine, the shakes. When someone experiences these things, we don't tell them to "get over it." Telling someone with a broken leg, or someone who is in a wheelchair, to "get over it" would be unthinkable.
It is a tsunami, as inexorable in its approach as it is wildly destructive once it envelopes the inundation zone; if you're lucky, you can see it coming and you can brace yourself for it or find a piece of soon-to-be driftwood to hold onto.
The only thing you can do is tell people how you are feeling; encourage them to listen without feeling like they have to "fix it" or "make it go away." Then, you have to ride it out. Let the tsunami wash away, let the flu subside. Only once it has passed can you really pick yourself up from it. Trying to clean up after a tsunami while it's still sweeping over you would just be counter productive, and the work you do in repairing will just be washed away in the end.
This was the lesson of my most recent struggle. I tried to fight it, tried to wrestle it down. But, just as if I had been trying to punch a tsunami to make it go away, it swallowed me up nonetheless.
Somewhere in the past few weeks, I have finally felt a shift. The tidal wave is in retreat, the flu has reduced itself to the sniffles. A kind of serenity has come in place of the storm that was darkening my mind. Yes, I am aware that my metaphors are getting mixed, but oh well; perhaps that is a good way of reflecting my jumbled state of mind over the past couple of months.
But to continue with the tsunami talk, I feel as though the waters have settled. There's a lot of clutter left behind, but for the most part, things are calm. This thoughtful serenity that has overtaken me has made it easier to write, easier to breathe. It's not as it has been in the past, where I have frantically worked at all hours, desperate to finish finish finish, but neither is it the panicked standstill that it has been. It's more as if I have found a balance, and I am working at a steady, forward moving pace. The pace at which I am now moving is a comfortable one, making writing a soothing process, and a positive one.
I have accepted that I did not finish the final draft by today, even as I wish that I had. I have a new, low pressure goal date that I am hopeful that I can achieve. As of today, I have finished my second draft and am approaching completion on the third. I don't know exactly how many drafts there will be, but my prediction is five, maybe six.
Each word that I write is an affirmation that I can, and will, and maybe already have gotten past this, empowering me to write the next word. Each page I complete is a victory, a triumph for the brightest parts of me. And because of that, for this moment in time, I have found serenity.
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