Oh, chronic depression. My greatest (and most annoying) foe. Who knew that “stability” would mean still juggling a low level malaise every few weeks until forever?
Back in 2007 when I gave up writing it was because I thought my obsessive writing made me unhealthy. At the time, I was obsessively working on novels and screenplays, short stories, poems and songs. I wrote when I was depressed. I wrote when I was manic. It was all consuming. The only real break I took from it (since my day job as a newspaper reporter also involved writing) was after a hospitalization in 2006. I felt my obsession with the stories I created in my mind were part of the problem. They kept me from dealing with my reality, which was not as interesting as some wild story idea I’d concocted or a musical I’d become obsessed with composing. In fact, my reality was pretty bleak at the time, but only by confronting it was I eventually able to deal with it. Continue reading