From the time I was a little girl, I used to write. It was my therapy of sorts. I kept journals, wrote short stories, poems, even a couple of plays and screenplays. Of course, none ever saw the light of day. I was too embarrassed, or maybe it was because most of my writings were dark and depressing, they all seemed to stem from a deep seeded self-loathing that I have never been able to remedy. Nevertheless, my writing got me through some of the hardest times in my life. It gave my an outlet, not only for my anger and sadness, but also for the creativity I always tried to stifle. I wrote about my parents, my abandonment issues, my friends, boyfriends, and whatever else was churning around inside my head. I would spend hours writing, I would even wake up in the middle of the night and write down my dreams. Some of my best short stories and poems were born from my dreams!
I don't really know when exactly I stopped writing, or why for that matter. I never wanted to do it professionally, all of my writings were meant for me and only me, but I truly enjoyed it and, more importantly, it made me feel better. I guess life kinda got in the way. Between marriage and kids and work, finding time to just sit down and write was nearly impossible. At least, that is my excuse. The reality is that I can't seem to write unless I have a muse and, sadly, my muse is depression and anxiety. Hence the dark, depressing and often blood-soaked scrawling of yesteryear. Writing it all down was how worked through all those feelings, but up until recently I had no reason to write...my life was as close to perfect as you can get, but last year that all came to an abrupt end. Now, here I sit....writing.............
It all started last summer when I got promoted at my former job. I thought it would be an amazing experience, I thought I was making the right decision....lets just say, I WAS WRONG! That situation created so much stress in my life that it literally made me sick. It got so bad that I would come home nearly every day in tears. Let me tell you, that is no way to live! So I made the gut-wrenching decision to leave that job and take a lower paying but very rewarding job closer to home. After that, I thought the anxiety and depression would go away...again, I was wrong.
Exactly three months into my new job my health took a dramatic turn, I was hospitalized twice and am awaiting word on an impending surgery. I don't want to go into gory details regarding procedures or anything, but I will say that this is, hands down, the worst experience of my life to date. Worse still, I have sunk into a severe depression and I am having anxiety attacks 24/7. If it weren't for my amazing husband and children I don't know where I would be right now.....actually I do know, and that scares me
It has been years since I felt this afraid and alone, I am becoming despondent and anti-social, which is so not me! I hate feeling this way!! I hated it a decade ago and I hate it today! Sadly bi-polar disorder and anxiety run in the family, on both sides, so there is no escaping it. On the bright side, my muse is back! I can write again.....so instead of paying money I don't have for therapy that won't help I have decided to start this blog. Consider it my online journal, my sounding board if you will. And maybe, just maybe, my rantings can help someone else feel better about themselves and their situation.