Stuck in the Middle With You

I am creatively stuck. Every day that I sit down and try to put words on the page feels like trying to suck my brain out of my nose with a straw. Okay bad analogy, but let’s just say it is very painful. I usually can just word vomit nicely and come out with decent story. Well decent first draft at least. Right now, I am so stuck I can’t even get a page done. I’m trying to just write through it but it’s like trying to charge a castle by going through mud. It’s slow, it’s tiring and I just want to give up. And I could. Writing isn’t something I have to do, it’s something I desire. That I love, on normal days.

So what do I do? Do I just let this pass? How? Do I keep trying to write through it. Normally I would. But my brain feels like it’s stopped working and I don’t want to do anything. I know this is my depression. My desire to do anything, even fun stuff like video games and reading, hold no appeal to me. I don’t want to watch anything, I don’t want to do anything but sleep. Even sleep sucks right now. Evelyn has been in our bed since 1am and I can’t move her without her waking up. By now, 6:30 its too late to go back to sleep anyways. Like the Whedon mascot says: Grrr Arghhh.

My other option is to stop forcing it and just take a break. But I’ve just come off of a break after Nano, a Nano I did not complete (I got to the end of the story but it was only 35K rather than 50K and I’m okay with that. November was a huge month of me seeking treatment.)

I have zero motivation to even keep breathing, but I do because I need to. Because I know that this too will pass, eventually.

So those who have suffered blocks of some sort for whatever reason, what helped you push through them? Did you take a break? Did you write on through? And those who suffer from depression, have you experienced something similar?

Writing and Depression

Writing is the best therapy I have found. Not just the act of writing or creating, but having the goal of accomplishing something with my art has had the most positive effect on my clinical depression. I’m not healed, I’m still medicated and I still have lows, but being able to see past tomorrow has given me hope, something that had been lacking in my life for so long.

And yet the struggle continues on a daily basis. From day to day I have to scrounge up the motivation and courage to continue when it is so much easier to go throughout my day in a daze, like a zombie fulfilling the needs of my children yet missing out on experiencing them, on being a part of their lives rather than an automaton that makes sure they fed and clothed.

And then to find out that depression isn’t the only thing I suffer from, that I am actually bi-polar and have been misdiagnosed and mis-medicated for several years. Now clinging to my goals isn’t enough anymore, but it’s something. I keep breathing because I have a plan, a purpose, a goal for something I love.

But what happens when the inevitable low comes and I no longer have the passion? I don’t know. I don’t have answers. I am still searching myself. I chuckle because I wrote the first two paragraphs of this post months ago, before my diagnoses, before my partial hospital treatment, before real therapy. And yet I don’t delete it because in the moment it was true. Whether or not it is the best therapy still, I don’t know. But it still works when it works. It’s still a skill in my repertoire.