So, some of you may have noticed I’ve been MIA for a bit. The holidays account for some of it, of course. We were gone for two weeks and I’m struggling to get back into a pattern. The rest of it is a mix of stupidity, stubbornness, and mental illness. I probably shouldn’t share–this is the epitome of over-sharing–which we’re cautioned not to do as authors, but I do it anyway. It’s basically the way I roll.
Two weeks is a long time to be away from my house. Two weeks for someone with agoraphobia is honestly too long. I start feeling itchy and screamy fairly early on. Stress makes it worse…and I’ve been very stressed. Things happened in my personal life that shook me. Things changed on me. Things in my life shifted. Then, there was the new year. I actually hate the new year. It feels like shutting a door forever. I always get depressed around the new year. It’s my least favorite holiday of all time. Things can’t change like this. I can only tolerate so much change. So, that was the mental illness. My OCD and agoraphobia are really bad right now.
The stupidity aspect is that I decided to go off an OCD med right before this trip. It was making me sleep…normal amounts. For someone who has always functioned on three or four hours of sleep–this was inhaling my life. I couldn’t get as much writing done because I was sleeping instead of writing. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stay awake on the drive for if my husband needed me. I just couldn’t take needing to sleep eight hours a night.
Messing with meds is a sketchy thing with me…and shortly after I went off this med I finished my demon Thanksgiving novel. Yay, right? Except I get swamped with depression whenever I finish a book. I have to go back to reality…which is difficult. Going back to the reality of being away from home for two weeks was a bit much.
I’ve been struggling with depression ever since and it only seems to be getting worse. The dark thoughts that go along with OCD keep trying to convince me that I can’t fix this…that everything is broken…that everything is out of control. There’s this constant refrain of “I’m so lost” in my head. I’m drowning in reality right now. Then, there is this numb apathy. I can’t bring myself to care about things and, ironically, now all I want to do is sleep.
*sighs* I’ve been better. I’ve seen better days than this. I’m hoping being home will stop this cagey feeling. I’m hoping I can stop wanting to scream and scream and scream until the voices stop crowding me. The voices are so loud in my head that concentrating on anything else is difficult. I lose track of conversations after about two sentences.
It’s ridiculous, right? It feels ridiculous. I know it’s somewhat artificial–a by-product of stress and going off a med. I’m not “really” depressed.
Anyway, my own demons are winning right now in a major way. I’m trying to pull myself out of it. I don’t have time for it actually–which sounds ridiculous too. This year should be a fairly busy year, though.
I’m hoping by the end of this week I’ll pull out of this. I need to. If I don’t, I’ll figure something out.
I haven’t sent the demon Thanksgiving novel to those who requested to read it yet because of my own demons. I will soon. If you made it through this, thanks. I’ll be back soon–ish.