Just wanted to say that I'm really missing your weekly word count update. Hope you're doing well.
Yeah, I, uh… yeah, I am not doing well.
I mean, I’m okay. Things are not bad, really. You should not spend a lot of time being concerned about me, is what I am trying to say, both because it’s not really necessary and because I honestly do not have the wherewithal to deal with causing people to have feelings or reactions outside of my actual fiction right now.
(Uh, I am also only intermittently able to deal with causing people to have feelings in response to my fiction, so… sorry if I am more scattershot than usual in replying to comments. I love them! I just… can’t, with the production of words, all the time.)
But with that said, I am slowly getting a grip on the fact that the word for the last seven months of being tired and worried and sad and unproductive and sometimes thinking it’s fine now, I’m fine, but really I’m still not fine even if some hours or days or weeks are better than others, is… depression.
Like. I want to disclaim that it’s not that bad, or I’m not sure, or point to all the causes in my life outside my brain, as if that somehow disproves that something significant has been happening inside my brain for half a year now, but… I’m still pretty sure “depression” is the word for it.
And I’m already looking into what to do about that, exactly, and how, but in the meantime I’m spending a lot of time being tired and worried and sad and not very productive. I’ve quit some of my WIPs in the way that other people might give themselves an impulsive haircut, because I have been having a real hard time for a while now feeling happy or enthusiastic about stories that I used to be happy and enthusiastic about (and, believe you me, asking which WIPs will not make me feel MORE happy and enthusiastic about whichever one you’re rooting for).
That also means that one of the most obvious measures of how I’m doing is my word counts, and that makes my word counts pretty hard to talk about right now.
But I’m trying to get the hang of telling people about this, so. That’s the answer: I’m not doing so well, but I’m working on it. And–genuinely–thanks for reaching out and giving me a nudge to say so.
from Tumblr http://ift.tt/2GzyNPv
via IFTTT
I mean, I’m okay. Things are not bad, really. You should not spend a lot of time being concerned about me, is what I am trying to say, both because it’s not really necessary and because I honestly do not have the wherewithal to deal with causing people to have feelings or reactions outside of my actual fiction right now.
(Uh, I am also only intermittently able to deal with causing people to have feelings in response to my fiction, so… sorry if I am more scattershot than usual in replying to comments. I love them! I just… can’t, with the production of words, all the time.)
But with that said, I am slowly getting a grip on the fact that the word for the last seven months of being tired and worried and sad and unproductive and sometimes thinking it’s fine now, I’m fine, but really I’m still not fine even if some hours or days or weeks are better than others, is… depression.
Like. I want to disclaim that it’s not that bad, or I’m not sure, or point to all the causes in my life outside my brain, as if that somehow disproves that something significant has been happening inside my brain for half a year now, but… I’m still pretty sure “depression” is the word for it.
And I’m already looking into what to do about that, exactly, and how, but in the meantime I’m spending a lot of time being tired and worried and sad and not very productive. I’ve quit some of my WIPs in the way that other people might give themselves an impulsive haircut, because I have been having a real hard time for a while now feeling happy or enthusiastic about stories that I used to be happy and enthusiastic about (and, believe you me, asking which WIPs will not make me feel MORE happy and enthusiastic about whichever one you’re rooting for).
That also means that one of the most obvious measures of how I’m doing is my word counts, and that makes my word counts pretty hard to talk about right now.
But I’m trying to get the hang of telling people about this, so. That’s the answer: I’m not doing so well, but I’m working on it. And–genuinely–thanks for reaching out and giving me a nudge to say so.
from Tumblr http://ift.tt/2GzyNPv
via IFTTT

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good luck and good thoughts
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Be gentle with yourself. I send love.
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Solidarity in facing the brain weasels.
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Instead, I'll just say that you do you, at the pace you can handle, and the hardest part of depression (for me): try not to beat yourself up about what you're feeling. You're feeling like this for a reason (or several), and you'll find out that reason when it's time. In the meantime, please don't rush yourself, and know that you are not alone, every one of us is here with you. If ever you feel up to opening up about your experience with depression, just send me a PM and I will listen and validate you, and even give you advice from my own continuing experience if that's what you want. If you don't, I will send you virtual love and understanding, no judgment on my end ever.
(Too bad I can't send you a Sam Wilson, we all need one of those in our lives.)
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I hope you get what you need to make things get better, whether that's drugs or a nice person to talk to or more sunlight or whatever.
Don't worry about us; we'll still be here when you get back.
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THAT SAID, I'm glad you're able to talk about it and work on it, and here's to hoping that it continually gets better.
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Relatable. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if I'd understood the term "situational depression" in grad school.
Good luck and courage, friend. <3
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Depression is such an insidious thing making you feel like a whiner when it is crippling you.
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I'm rooting for you.