AW blog: 28

Some days I feel like everything I write is garbage. Some days, I feel like everything I do is utterly worthless. I know that it is my chronic depression rearing its head when it happens during certain times of year. Seasonal Affective Disorder fucks me up on a yearly basis from early autumn until early spring. Bipolar depressive episodes get me from spring to about the middle of autumn. Most of my year is me dealing with ptsd trauma crap with about a month or so where I'm not. That month is not November. It's around May.

This year has been harder than other years because depression has really been riding my ass hard. I am so fed up with it. I want to sit down and write. I have books to finish. I have books to start. I have short stories to finish up. I have poems I want to get back to working on. I have a life I want to live.

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired (because I'm sick). To throw on top of all of this, my social phobia makes going out to meet up with like minded souls really hard. I have a circle of friends who write that I struggle to post in the forum that they've got set up because we're from all across WNY (and some brave souls have ventured out to points like Georgia and Texas to pursue greater opportunities). I'm struggling on so many fronts. A part of me just wants to say fuck it all. I just feel like I should be a hermit or something. I feel like I should just give this up.

I, however, can't stop writing anything more than I can stop breathing. I can't stop creating things any more than I can stop breathing. I'm torn in multiple directions. When depression hits, executive function takes a nose dive. I get overwhelmed easily. Suddenly I can't tell what item has the highest priority. Generally, that means housework turns into a mess as well. It gets ugly in my writing when I can get organized enough to do it because I word vomit all kinds of awful stuff. 

I just don't know how to shake this off my back. I just am stuck circling from half finished item to half finished item. I feel terrible about how nothing is done. I feel like I am a horrible human being because of my screwed up brain chemistry and the trauma programming that I'm trying to unravel. It's just awful.