For those who have been following, I have been struggling to write for most of December and into this new year. Part of my depression is that I have trouble formulating focused and coherent thought chains from start to finish. I would try to blog, get 75% of a post done, realized how badly it had derailed, and then would trash it without finishing it, its original message lost along the way. That is frequently the case when I try to force myself to write. After going through intense phases where writing is my primary hobby, having it stop abruptly leaves me feeling lost.
Last Friday or so, I finally found myself able to write a complete post after a random thought triggered some inspiration. The post wasn’t personal by any means and it seemed to signify a crumbling of the mental wall that had blocked me in for the past month. This is usually the first sign that my depression cycle is lessening on the path to recovering and it kicked off a series of posts that were a return to the volume that many of my readers are accustomed to.
Something didn’t quite feel right though. While the cobwebs were clearing from my mind, I still felt a barrier with reaching my deeper feelings. In an attempt to force their return I started writing about topics that make me feel uncomfortable and vulnerable to talk about. I was only able to skim the surface.
Until yesterday. Yesterday I razed myself to the ground… and the feelings returned.
I broke my own will, pushing myself to view me in a light that I didn’t want to. Today I feel a little bit fucked up inside. Today I feel vulnerable. I guess this is what I wanted.