This may be a rough post, but we’ll see where things go. It comes from a lot of stress and talking with people who are in similar situations. Pretty sure I might regret this once comments start, but I couldn’t get this off my mind.
I find it difficult to muster the energy and will to continue. This isn’t me claiming to be suicidal, but there are people I know like that. I will admit that there are days where I wonder why I exist and if my purpose is to suffer. Nothing is exciting and stressful events strike when I’m already low. This is when people simply trying to blindly help with cheerfulness and positive speeches pop up to make me feel worse. I get the sense that these things are done because the other person doesn’t want me to feel sad for their own benefit. It isn’t to make me feel better, but to make themselves feel either helpful or they have a low tolerance for people suffering. Think I’m getting off track here.
The real target of the question is my writing and really anything that involves a sense of ambition. I don’t sell books because I lack the time and money to do any types of promotions that would work. My notebooks gather dust because I end every day collapsing on the bed. The dream of being a full-time author never appears in my mind, which has been a problem for around 2 years. It’s all about my son, struggling to survive, and the overall state of the world. The stress is crushing and I can no longer carve out enough time to write my worries away. Even when I don’t have anything to do, I get bombarded by enough unexpected events that I get very little done. It just adds to the anxiety and . . .
I’m rather lonely most days. It isn’t a relationship thing because the thought of dating gives me panic attacks. Feel like I’m far too damaged and my situation is too messy to subject someone else to it. So, I just sit around by myself. Being around single people who are ready to date makes me feel uncomfortable. Being around married couples without my son around makes me feel a little sad. Think the big thing is that I spent most of my life with someone I could bounce ideas off of at any moment and just hang out. I don’t have that any more and I still haven’t been able to function enough that I trust my own creative instincts. At least not entirely.
Takes me months to write a book and that’s being generous. Takes me years to outline a single series even when I have all of the notes scattered about. I used to be able to write a ton and get things done even with a job and a social life. Now, I’m just plain exhausted, but it’s a mental one instead of physical. My body can have energy while I just don’t have the will to do more than television and jigsaw puzzles. Probably doesn’t help that I’m always in my room because being anywhere else makes me feel exposed. Winter means no outside and we have to wear masks in the library. Spend most of my weekdays wearing them at work, so I don’t like the idea of wearing them while writing.
Could it be an effect of the pandemic, which won’t freaking end? I will admit that it didn’t do me any favors even though I was able to write the last 3 War of Nytefall books while the quarantine was going on. That might have started this whole thing, especially since I wrote Do I Need to Use a Dragon? (Fantasy Writing Tips) and Slumberlord Chronicles: Darwin & the Fate Bracelet. I had a big run of productivity and then it suddenly stopped along with my will to continue. There’s a flicker there, but I have the sensation of being in a ravine and the walls are too slick to climb out. Seems to get worse every time I hear something along the lines of ‘be patient’ or ‘you will get the time eventually’. Can’t help but think of how many people were told that, believed it, and then died in a freak accident.
This whole rant comes down to me wondering why I should continue. I mean, where am I going here? People keep telling me what I should do even if I don’t have the time and money to do so. People keep telling me to give up on other things. I might just be stuck in place for now and I can’t even access the one thing that always gave me a good shot of serotonin. That’s the happy stuff, right? To be clear, I’m not talking about drugs or alcohol here. Never touched the former and the latter has been limited because I can only have it when I’m feeling good. Otherwise, it just enhances the bad and I don’t like that road.
I remember way back in college, I realized that I get depressed and angry if I don’t do real writing at least once every three days. Maybe things have built up since I barely get time to write. I may go weeks without doing anything and this year is looking like it will be slim in terms of releases. Again, I find myself wondering what to do. Do I continue or finally call it a day?