Lately, I've been so burnt out and discouraged from writing. I've felt I've failed the main thing I was put on this Earth to do. I've let the shame of that weight wreck my entire soul - let it eat away at the confidence I had for being so well suited for a creative career. I cannot say where the depression brought on by these feelings began, but I know it will continue to push me toward emotional disrepair if I do not soon mend what first crippled me, and I must be content (at least for now) with the answer being that I went wrong when I quit writing for pleasure.
My beloved aunt, author Barbara Esstman, once told me that she didn't know what to do with herself if she didn't spend at least part of every day writing. She uses writing as a coping device. Similarly, (and unfortunately I cannot remember the exact vlogbrothers video to properly source it) John Green said he writes because it gives him worth. To me, that sounds a lot like writing to cope. I must remind myself every day forward that my spirit for writing is just as hungry. Just as essential to the continual wholeness of my being.
I journaled every single day from ages 13-17. I can remember distinctly being so content during that time, despite the devastation of my parents' divorce. At the end of the day, no matter how terribly I felt I failed at something, I could always put back together the pieces of my spirit by writing about what went wrong. I could step away from the day's events from a more objective point of view by forcing myself to end every entry with some sort of moral lesson the ill event taught me. I probably reflected the structure I learned from writing my school essays by ending each neurotic passage with at least a positive moral conclusion, "But, of course, I'm too strong to let that get to me." Hey, I may have seemed like a pompous teenager, but at least I was a happy pompous teenager. I know that the word "strength" (before I understood the more fitting word of "resiliance") always held a lot of weight for me, because I felt a physical and emotional boost when I wrote it. I know now that the words I wrote in my journals all those years ago were like armor. I was teaching myself to cope with the resiliance my daily written reflections provided me...until I stopped. I was content when I could by repetition write without worrying how my message would be received. Subconsciously I must have gained confidence from feeling my journals taught me to learn from my mistakes every day. Journaling was the main thing I felt I could do well because my emotions flowed through me onto paper in a way that made everything okay again; some days it was for the sheer fact that I had at least finished something that day.
I will not allow myself to sink so emtionally low as I have these past few weeks. I will continue to write and extract from every daily reflection what I need to find peace again. I will win back the confidence I once had in my writing, my passion for writing, and my self - as I've come to accept that confidence in myself will always be intrinsically connected to the progress of my writing.
My depression ends here with the new beginning of daily written words.
From now on, I will write to cope.