Okay, truth time.
Today is February 21st meaning, I haven’t posted anything here in almost two months. I’m not dead. I don’t have Covid. I’m just… not sure where to go from here. For years now, when people ask me what I want to do with my life, my first and generally only answer, is that I want to be an author.
I want to write. I want to tell stories. This is who and what I am and have been for longer than I remember. When I was little, my friends and I would spin little tales and stories with dolls, and it would later evolve to this. But, if I’m honest, I haven’t been doing much writing lately. I haven’t been doing much of anything lately.
Depression has sucked me in.
It has become the only real thing in my life right now, and I feel like I’ve let it, when really, I know I haven’t had a choice. Some days, I wake up with spoons. Some of you may know what that means, and for those that don’t, I’ll leave a little info graphic below to help you out but the basic thought behind it is, you have X-amount of spoons for the day, and each task, or thing you do costs spoons. Kind of like money, and if you don’t have enough money, or spoons you can “borrow” some and you’ll come up short later.
On the days I wake up with spoons, my spoons are sometimes enough to get things that I need to do done. Cleaning. Laundry. Cooking. Shower. Basic, everyday life things. On days I don’t wake up with any spoons, I go into the negatives because sometimes, there are still things that I need to do and get done that just can’t wait. If I’m lucky enough, the Spoon Fairy comes, and grants me extra spoons but, most of the time the Spoon Fairy comes and takes away spoons from when I made myself go into the negatives.
Writing for me, has never cost me any spoons. It’s always been free.
At least, that’s how I’ve always thought of it because, it doesn’t really take up that much of my energy. It takes up a different part of me that I don’t really know how to explain- fellow authors, if you feel this way too, can you explain how it feels to you? I’d be interested in finding out how other authors, and even artists explain the feeling of giving away pieces of oneself.
I’m going to try to write more.
I’m going to try to post more because, I need to. Things at the house have been tense and stressful lately. My grandmother just spent a week in the hospital for being unable to breathe and having an irregular heartbeat. She came home on oxygen and that’s been hard for everyone in my family. Me especially because, it’s giving me these awful little “flashbacks” I guess you could say, to finding my mother dead in 2020.
My mental health is hanging on by a thread.
My physical health is hanging on even less than that. I wake up every day with a headache now, and sometimes it goes away with medication, or water, or food, or I’m just stuck with it and have learned how to live with it. And I’m either in a chronic pain flare, or the DRG I had placed in August isn’t working. More often than not, I’ll be walking- or limping/hobbling? technically since, I still can’t walk properly- and my leg will just give out from under me. There’s a cane in my car that, if I were a smart person, I’d carry around with me more than I do, instead of leaving it in the car but, I’m far too stubborn for that.
And finally… my birthday is and was supposed to be on Wednesday. I’ve decided that I don’t want to do anything now because of everything that’s been going on. Which, I guess makes me selfish in a way? But, when it comes to that topic, I don’t really think I care much. (What could we really do now anyways?)
Things are all over the place for me right now, and I’m trying to take it easy on myself but, that’s far easier said than done. I’ll write again soon, I promise.
-Sky
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