Something is missing from my life
I feel like my life is been on pause for the past year; a button was pushed and my entire life came to a screeching halt. Even though I am much better physically than I was a year ago, my writing has never fully recovered and I can't seem to get started again. I've never had writers’ block so I don't know how to stop this feeling. How do I get back to where I was artistically when I still feel like crap inside emotionally?
I know I should be thankful for how far I have come in this past year; my friends and my family all tell me I need to give myself a break. I just cannot seem to do that and still live up to the expectations I hold inside my head. I have fought with depression most of my adult life but the fog that is floating through my life at the present is too thick to cut through. I feel trapped in my house because I don't want to leave; the anxiety of having to go outdoors is overwhelming.
The therapist in me tells me that if I go outside and enjoy the sunlight I am sure to feel better, but I can't seem to make that final step into the great outdoors. I missed so much of last year and now I am missing this year because of overpowering fear. Instead I stay indoors where it's nice and cool - granted this helps me breathe better because in that stifling heat it's hard for me to draw breath - and binge watch my favorite television shows. My new favorite Cedar Cove which I managed to watch in just a week’s time. I'm also a fan of the Vampire Diaries and Pretty Little Liars, both are my guilty pleasures, but I’ve just added Teen Wolf, so it may be in the running for an embarrassing part of my life.
But there's just so much TV you can watch during one day. I have also started reading again, although I have to use my Kindle now for most of my reading enjoyment because my eyesight has gotten too bad for me to pick up a regular book to read. Top of my author’s list is Laurell K. Hamilton – who I got to see this summer when she came to Lexington – Stephen King, Rose Pressey, Debbie Macomber, Kathy Reichs and Patricia Cornwell. Since the beginning of the year, I have re-read Hamilton’s Anita Blake series, Reich’s Bone series and Cornwell’s Scarpetta series. To me there is something comforting in reading past works I have enjoyed. I realize none of these are literary works, but they encourage me and open my heart to writing.
As I write this, I realize I am breaking through my writer’s block. I have book reviews to write, blog posts to construct, articles to edit and column ideas that I want to pitch. Maybe I’m on my way back; my inner therapist is happy to see me writing and I think I heard the lazy yawn of my muse trying to wake up.