Depression and anxiety, today you fall to my mighty hands. I cut you, bleed you, hang you up to dry. Your liver is on my spatula, and your eyeballs have been filleted.
Let’s be honest here, I’m feeling this writing thing. It’s cool.
I don’t think I ever expected myself to say that out loud, I’ve always felt this weird feeling about certain art forms. I don’t remember anybody really ever making fun of people for being a writer growing up either which is a little odd.
It’s just always felt weird to think about writing as a hobby. What’s the point, cool people wouldn’t read my stuff, would they? As I get a little older and wiser (Ha) I’m starting to realize that the people I used to think were cool, aren’t that cool. And that maybe the people with a little spirit and passion and dare I say it romance in their lives are actually pretty cool.
Learning about writing today has been awesome. I wasn’t learning anything particularly important, but I was paying attention and focusing on what I was reading. It was interesting to me, and that’s not a familiar feeling. I haven’t had a hobby or many interests for months.
Quite often I get a lot of disinterest and anxiety about starting a new hobby. It either feels like too much work, boring, or a waste of time. I don’t feel that way right now, and it feels good.
There are so many options for what direction to go with writing, and I love it. There’s no code, set way to do it. There are things that will get you more or less read by people, but the writing itself is freedom.
It’s cool to implement little things here and there every time I write. I’m learning and I’m enjoying that process; I haven’t felt that way in a very long time. Usually I’m so obsessed with the end result that I get frustrated with the process.
When I say that I kicked depression and anxieties ass today, I don’t mean that both those feelings weren’t there. Just that I was able to push through them, and put effort into something. If I wouldn’t have pushed through the anxiety and depression, I don’t think I would have realized how enjoyable reading and writing can be.
Something that really bothers me about my illness is that it’s so hard for me to sit down and read. I lose focus, have to go over things multiple times, and in general don’t absorb much. My memory is also so bad that I can even forget what I’m reading mid-sentence.
This is so hard, because I used to be an avid reader. My uncle used to drop off boxes of books at our house that he had read. He has a huge library at his house. A lot of science fiction and fantasy books by random authors I’d never heard of. I didn’t discriminate much either, or have to look for reviews or recommendations. I would just pick one with a cool spaceship or an interesting description and go with it.
Theses days it’s challenging for me to even commit to a long blog post, let alone a whole book.
Months of working on my outlooks and learning things about life has helped me get to the point that I have some sort of direction. It’s like throwing a stone in a purposeful direction, and then deciding where to throw it next once I get there. It’s better then nothing.
Having that little bit of purpose has changed my perspectives and motivations. I knew I wanted to learn a skill, but I was undecided for so long what to do, and so I never accomplished anything.
I feel like I can play around with this writing thing, stretch it and tweak it and rub it on the belly. I think I’m a little silly by nature and I hope I can start to feel comfortable letting that out. I need to express myself, and this medium is working for me so far.