The other day I Googled how to clean blood off of steel. I'm not remotely ALL the way back, but it was a first step.
I see other writers zipping ahead with upcoming releases, and I'm happy for them. Because that feeling is AH-mazing. I haven't finished anything this year.
Yet.
Stings a bit, yeah.
Okay...more like I whacked a wasp nest and am standing at ground zero.
It's hard to come to terms with limits. But this year has felt like hitting a wall every time I turn around. And it's a right bitch.
Physically? My body is a shitshow. Fibro flares. My right arm? Oooooooo....she is not nice. Daily. Nerve zaps from here to there. Yada.
Mentally? Have I MENTIONED we're playing with mood stabilizers and ADHD meds? Which has spun me into a depression I heretofore have not felt in years? HAVE I? 😶
Sure I have. 😬
But life continues. I'm still supposed to roll out of bed and live my life as though everything is honky-dory. Because masking works for other people. It's cool to be depressed as fuck as long as I don't rain on anyone's parade. As long as I laugh when I'm supposed to and pretend I'm not dying inside.
Been there. Done that.
I'm clawing my way back. I think, MAYBE, the new mood stabilizer might be working. I start the full dosage Wednesday, and I hope I can turn a little corner. A baby corner, if you will.
And maybe I can find my Muse again. I used to kid Simba was my Muse, as his little furry ass kept me company in my office. But all I have are his ashes now, and that's a kick in the balls on the daily.
Rough year, innit?
