Write Something

Write Something.

"Why don't you go sit down and write something?"

"I don't have anything to say."

"I'm not buying that," she laughed as she walked away.

In her defense I have something to say 99.9% of the time. Looking at my past posts, it's been 13 months since I've published anything. Which is more 'something to write' than 'something to say'. But, definitely not my norm. 

I'm kind of a loud mouth/typer. 

Turns out I've been working through some shit and I've kept it internal. It's possible that writing would have helped me work through. But, I was so 'in it' I just couldn't. 

I am getting better. My head is above water now. Most of the time. I feel better than I have in years. Two years to be exact. It crept up on me. My happy, easy to laugh attitude got harder and harder to maintain as I sunk deeper and deeper. I was holding so much weight. Fear, sadness, uncertainty - all the current events. Doom scrolling as soon as I woke up. Doom scrolling until I fell asleep. My anger and sadness building. Fuse getting shorter. 

I went in for my annual check up. The receptionist handed me an iPad with screening questions. I sort of laughed as I thought, "Maybe I should answer these honestly." And, I did... which set off a chain of events and appointments resulting in me being diagnosed with clinical depression.

Let me be clear - at no time did I think of hurting myself. My enormous ego won't allow that. My head may be literally perfectly proportioned but it's figuratively GIANT. 

I tried drinking. A lot. Added in eating. A lot. That made me feel better. In the moment. Then made me hate myself. 

Started taking something. It helped. On days that I would take them. Punishing myself felt better. So much better.

Therapy. Blah.

Art therapy. Which sounds so not like me but was actually helpful. I make awesome collages. About feelings. Don't ask me to talk about them. But if I glue a representation of feelings on a poster board from The Dollar Store you can be assured that I definitely have that particular feeling.

Intense therapy. No details. But I've finally learned with some wise words and hard work that I don't have to carry everything. Turns out I can set it down. I had no idea. Some of those things are very heavy. I can put them down. I can drop them. I can take my armor off. I don't have to wear it. It's a pretty amazing feeling. Setting all the shit down. 

Am I back to the 'Old Staci'? 

Nope. 

I think she's gone. 

Probably forever. 

And, that's okay. 

New Coke may have been shitty. Most covers and remakes are subpar. Turns out that I'm going to give my new self a chance. Let's see what happens.