This is not going to be one of those "Gee, I sure haven't written a post in a while" posts. The ones where the writer apologises to the masses of disappointed and frustrated readers, ravenously waiting for their next hit of amateur blogging. Even if those masses are mainly made up of their mum and their cat. No, I'm not going to do that. But I am going to talk about the not writing, and how it's an odd reflection of my state of mind.
For a long time now I haven't wanted to write anything. Actually let me rephrase that; I have wanted to have written, to see my words on the page and even to have been paid for those words. But the actual process of writing, the sitting down and typing those words - that I haven't wanted. So I didn't do it. If the last year has taught me anything it's to not be too hard on yourself and to recognise when you just have to stop. So I stopped. I've been reading lots of books (reviews coming soon), watching TV and lots of movies. I haven't been playing games so much because, like writing, I just can't find the energy to actually do it. I have been wanting passive pastimes, rather than active ones. Even the gym took a bit of a backseat, with my regular three visits a week dropping to one, maybe two if I could be arsed.
I think I've seemed okay to others, and have largely felt "okay", but I know that I've been under a shadow for a while now. I only recognised this because it seems to be lifting, letting in some light that had been unknowingly missing. I still haven't gone back to games yet, but ideas for stories are being explored, as well as a lot of research into freelance writing opportunities. The gym is also being graced with my presence a bit more (though work hours conspire to make that as difficult as possible). Chores are (mostly) getting done rather than thought about, dismissed and finally done in a fit of "fine, if you won't clean/cook/wash yourself then I'll bloody well do it". It's odd how a return to normal patterns makes you realise how abnormal they've been.
I've also begun to feel a bit more confident. I think I do a good job most of the time of seeming pretty confident and sure of myself. The reality is I often am struck with impostor syndrome, feeling like I'm going to be found out at any moment. That sensation got a lot worse after Dad died, and coupled with the panic attacks I occasionally got on public transport, left me feeling like a shell made of sugar glass. That's also fading, though not entirely absent - I'm just getting better at telling myself to suck it up and see what happens, rather than worry what the outcome may or may not be.
The roller coaster ride is definitely not over, eight months in and counting, but I'm starting to learn how to deal with the dips and peaks better. It's just a pity I hate roller coasters...
For a long time now I haven't wanted to write anything. Actually let me rephrase that; I have wanted to have written, to see my words on the page and even to have been paid for those words. But the actual process of writing, the sitting down and typing those words - that I haven't wanted. So I didn't do it. If the last year has taught me anything it's to not be too hard on yourself and to recognise when you just have to stop. So I stopped. I've been reading lots of books (reviews coming soon), watching TV and lots of movies. I haven't been playing games so much because, like writing, I just can't find the energy to actually do it. I have been wanting passive pastimes, rather than active ones. Even the gym took a bit of a backseat, with my regular three visits a week dropping to one, maybe two if I could be arsed.
I think I've seemed okay to others, and have largely felt "okay", but I know that I've been under a shadow for a while now. I only recognised this because it seems to be lifting, letting in some light that had been unknowingly missing. I still haven't gone back to games yet, but ideas for stories are being explored, as well as a lot of research into freelance writing opportunities. The gym is also being graced with my presence a bit more (though work hours conspire to make that as difficult as possible). Chores are (mostly) getting done rather than thought about, dismissed and finally done in a fit of "fine, if you won't clean/cook/wash yourself then I'll bloody well do it". It's odd how a return to normal patterns makes you realise how abnormal they've been.
I've also begun to feel a bit more confident. I think I do a good job most of the time of seeming pretty confident and sure of myself. The reality is I often am struck with impostor syndrome, feeling like I'm going to be found out at any moment. That sensation got a lot worse after Dad died, and coupled with the panic attacks I occasionally got on public transport, left me feeling like a shell made of sugar glass. That's also fading, though not entirely absent - I'm just getting better at telling myself to suck it up and see what happens, rather than worry what the outcome may or may not be.
The roller coaster ride is definitely not over, eight months in and counting, but I'm starting to learn how to deal with the dips and peaks better. It's just a pity I hate roller coasters...
