I’ve probably used that title before.
But that’s okay. Sometimes you have to start somewhere that you’ve started in previous times just to keep going.
Sometimes you have to back up to the last time you felt okay enough to write.
Sometimes you have to remember what it was like to have feelings other than sadness and vague annoyance.
Sometimes you have to lie on the floor listening to Ke$ha before you can get up and sit down in front of your computer just to write a blog post.
Sometimes you have to have a terrible week and then have a good one before you can get your brain back in order.
Sometimes you have to recognize what’s wrong with your brain and just say “I don’t care. I have work to do.”
Sometimes you just have to snap your eyes open and give your brain the finger.
Your brain isn’t in control of you. It’s in control of your body.
Your soul is the one in charge. Not everyone believes in souls. But you probably believe in something similar.
In any case, you sometimes just have to tell your brain chemicals that they can’t control you 100% of the time.
Medication, therapy, talking to friends, listening to music, donating to worthy causes, having an anxiety journal–these things can only get you so far.
You have to want to get off the floor and put your fingers to the keyboard.
You might be wondering what you should do, especially if you’re in a depressive episode like me.
TW: suicide, depression, anxiety, car accident
Let me put it this way:
I got into a car wreck about a month ago.
I struggled to get in touch with my mentors and got a “disappointed father”-type e-mail from one of them because the meeting was done before I could even arrive.
I have felt rejected and unwanted and pushed away the past couple of weeks.
I have stayed up until 4 A.M. to type my hand-written work up because I felt too anxious and depressed all summer to get as much done as I should have.
I almost killed myself.
Let that sink in.
Let it really sink in.
I have avoided replying to people.
I have locked myself in my room while we have guests in our apartment.
I have had to give away my sharp objects to my roommates for hiding purposes.
I have felt listless and lifeless.
I have been pretending to have feelings.
I have been running on auto-pilot.
But I’m still here. I think about this blog every day.
I ask myself when I’m going to get on with my 1000th-post celebration. But how can I celebrate when my mind is full of darkness and self-hatred? How can I celebrate when I cause so much pain?
But like with all things in my life, eventually, I break.
I was indeed lying on the floor and listening to Ke$ha (neither of which I normally do) when I suddenly sat up and was like “I need to blog.”
What the crap, brain?
And that was when I realized that sometimes you have to suck it up through the pain and the misery and everything else inside of you that is telling you to quit.
Hating yourself doesn’t fix anything. And you can’t make yourself stop. It will just happen every so often. Take advantage of that time.
Heck, take advantage of the times you hate yourself. Write it out. Let your feelings bleed onto the page.
Words on paper have a lot less power than your brain whispering that you’re worthless. You can’t be worthless. You just expressed your pain and suffering without anyone forcing you to.
You just became a creator. You just took your pain and told it that it can be compartmentalized. It can be controlled, filed away.
You can let it come back later.
You have work to do.