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naomi_jayI feel so much more zen since I finished Stupid Biker Romance 3. I feel like this massive shadow has lifted. I stopped taking my anti-depressants while we were in Japan, mostly because I just kept forgetting, but because I felt fine, I decided to keep not taking them once we got home. I've had a couple of really black days, where I've felt really compelled to do...something. I can't quite explain it. I've never physically self-harmed, but I think I arguably look for ways to hurt myself psychologically somehow when I get that down. I've found the only way to counteract the urge is to just ride it out, so I have. It's tough, but once that day is over, I feel better again, and I don't think medication is going to help with that one way or another, so there we are.
But finishing SBR3 and submitting it really did shift something. I just feel calmer. I guess because when I'm depressed, I tend to focus all the negativity on my writing. You're not good enough. Nobody would care if you just stopped.
So finishing a book that's been hanging around since July and getting it submitted feels like a massive achievement. Like, yes, you can still do this. Don't worry. That part of you isn't going away.
I was supposed to have a preliminary counselling session today, but I cancelled it - not because I think I don't need it, I definitely do - but because the weather is fucking so hard with public transport, I can't guarantee I'll make it, and I'll be stuck in Cambridge for ages afterwards if I do. Hopefully I can get it rescheduled. I sort of thought about just cancelling completely and pulling myself off the waiting list, but the truth is all of this *waves hands vaguely at self* has been brewing since Fergus died. That's two years now of slowly getting more anxious and burnt out, going through phases where I was convinced I'd die in my sleep, panicking at the mere thought of fragrance oils, and not fucking telling anyone, and just soldiering on and coping and being apparently so extremely good at Being Fine, that my entire family, including the man I live with and sleep with, were floored when I told them I was going back on meds last autumn.
So yeah, I don't think I need anti-depressants right now, but I definitely do need counselling. I'm just glad some of the more ancillary stuff, like not being able to right, is shifting in the right direction. I'm excited about writing more Stupid Biker Romances, I have Blood Canticles 5 on the go, and I have tons of ideas for other stuff that's all really engaging me. I'm going to start the series I've been planning under The Other Pen Name. I have three different ideas for the first book in the series, and I just need to pick which one will make a better starting point. And I'm going to write a Stupid Reverse Harem Romance with vampires, because it'll be super fun and I want to. So there.
But finishing SBR3 and submitting it really did shift something. I just feel calmer. I guess because when I'm depressed, I tend to focus all the negativity on my writing. You're not good enough. Nobody would care if you just stopped.
So finishing a book that's been hanging around since July and getting it submitted feels like a massive achievement. Like, yes, you can still do this. Don't worry. That part of you isn't going away.
I was supposed to have a preliminary counselling session today, but I cancelled it - not because I think I don't need it, I definitely do - but because the weather is fucking so hard with public transport, I can't guarantee I'll make it, and I'll be stuck in Cambridge for ages afterwards if I do. Hopefully I can get it rescheduled. I sort of thought about just cancelling completely and pulling myself off the waiting list, but the truth is all of this *waves hands vaguely at self* has been brewing since Fergus died. That's two years now of slowly getting more anxious and burnt out, going through phases where I was convinced I'd die in my sleep, panicking at the mere thought of fragrance oils, and not fucking telling anyone, and just soldiering on and coping and being apparently so extremely good at Being Fine, that my entire family, including the man I live with and sleep with, were floored when I told them I was going back on meds last autumn.
So yeah, I don't think I need anti-depressants right now, but I definitely do need counselling. I'm just glad some of the more ancillary stuff, like not being able to right, is shifting in the right direction. I'm excited about writing more Stupid Biker Romances, I have Blood Canticles 5 on the go, and I have tons of ideas for other stuff that's all really engaging me. I'm going to start the series I've been planning under The Other Pen Name. I have three different ideas for the first book in the series, and I just need to pick which one will make a better starting point. And I'm going to write a Stupid Reverse Harem Romance with vampires, because it'll be super fun and I want to. So there.
