Depression and Writing

Depression sucks . . . it sucks more than most things, except mixed and hypomanic episodes. But that is killing me about this particular depression - and it's the type I've been having most of the year is that it shuts down my creative centers. It becomes harder for me to write . . . and now I am so far behind on my fourth book sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to go back to it again and finish it.

But in fairness to myself (besides being bipolar II) I have had a lot of my plate between friends, boyfriend, family (that I wish I didn't have really), my kids, their schools . . . Especially with my daughter's school . . . I feel like everything has been hitting me like a blizzard and I just can't see my way out of it yet.

The sad thing is that I have no energy at all. Just the fact that I'm writing this and I'm able to contribute to my blods is a feat all in itself because I'm so run down . . . I have trouble sleeping, but when I do sleep, I won't want to wake up . . . I just have no real interest in life and I can't seem to muster the interest to write . . . I wish I knew why. I LOVE my writing. But it seems that all I can do is the fun writing with my friend Patty B. That's fine, but what about my own writing? My own projects? And yet even as I type that, this wave of exhaustion just hits me and all I want to do is crawl back into bed . . .

Anyway, a lot of time my depressions don't disable my writing. In fact, it usually helps me since writing is my means of escape. But for now, I'm mired in this pit of dispair. It sucks . . . I want to write. I want that part of my life and mind back . . . I want to be able to write!!

But at least I have not been completely unproductive. I did get a psychiatrist for my daughter. She'll be evaluated on November 10th. I know she's got an anxiety disorder, but I'm worried she has bipolar. She acts EXACTLY like I did when I was her age. I can see it. So we'll see what happens. But it's something I intend to let the SARB board know. They're lucky if I don't tell them to fuck off . . . I hate these people. I hate this school district and I can't wait for the day I can tell them to piss off.

But for now . . . it's depression city and the everlasting darkness . . . Who knows if or when the sun will rise again . . .