I’m in a dark place and I don’t know how I got here.
Honestly, I feel like I’ve been hit by a train. Only a month ago I would said, “I could handle a depression, that’s fine, I know depression.” Oh, how the ignorant spout! It turns out I can’t ‘handle’ depression. It hasn’t handled me so much as drowned me.
Three weeks ago today I made an attempt on my life. I will write about it one day but right now it feels too soon. And yet I want to write, I think I need to, but not about that. Not yet. Right now I want to talk about the repercussions which I weren’t expecting and which have hit me over the head harder than I thought possible.
Work is impossible; the idea of going to work like normal is just insane. The job I used to do with such ease (and sometimes enjoy!) feels very far away. I’ve dreamt about work several times and, in each one, I find myself standing still, staring blankly at everyone around me working and getting on with it and thinking, why the hell am I here? So at the moment work is a no. Luckily I live in a country where my sick pay is good and my employers are supportive, so I mustn’t dismiss that blessing.
But my hobbies…I never thought I’d ‘lose’ writing. The flame was always burning: even when I wasn’t actively writing, my brain was still turning over ideas and imagining scenarios for future scenes. Now I just…I can’t. I’ve stopped and started on this post more times than I’d like to admit. My writing doesn’t seem to have a point anymore. Before, I used to work towards the ultimate goal; publication. Now the motivation is gone and, with writing being such a solo sport, there isn’t anyone to fan the flame. It’s gone out until I feel in a place to relight it.
Other previously enjoyable activities have lost their appeal too. I can’t say I’m interested in anything at present. I’ve said this to many of those who are trying to support me, and for whom I am grateful: I feel like a part of me was lost that day. The vital part of me that believed in myself and knew who I was. People tell me it’ll come back, with time, which I admit I dismiss. It’s easy to make promises about the future but they hold little weight in the present.
I think I’ll stop here. This entire post feels like a jumble but then I don’t feel my writing is up to its usual standard. Some days I wonder if it ever will. Thank you for your time. Perhaps, hopefully, I’ll be able to do an update in six months’ time, proving current me wrong. We’ll see.