Friends, I'm having a crisis of faith. I doubt not in the gods (or the flying spaghetti monster, blessed are we who have been touched by his noodly appendage). It is in myself. Some of this, if not all of it, is because of what N. Lokison called brain weasels. Self doubt is an insidious beast. I have been attempting to keep a log of how much I am writing. The numbers are very low.
They say that writing or any other creative work is like drawing water from a well. I don't know if my water levels are low or if the problem is my bucket is small and my arms are getting tired. Either way, I'm feeling creatively blocked and panic over the idea that I am never going to get back to the Great
Work. I am trying not to panic but it's still there.
It is harder because my medication change is making everything harder. I've been so tired and having such difficulty concentrating. It just makes me feel worse that this is the first post I've done in a week. I'm sorry, I'm trying. It's just hard.
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