Tag: writing

Not Writer’s Block

Photo by Jan Kahánek on Unsplash

Lately I’ve been frustrated with myself.  I’ve wanted to write during these past few months.  I’ve especially wanted to fill you all in on my mom’s cancer journey, but sitting down to actually do it has been damn near impossible.

For a long time, I thought what I had was a case of writer’s block. After all, what is a writer who doesn’t write? Someone who is clearly “blocked” by something, right? 

But, here’s the thing…once I start writing, words come out.  I never waste any time staring at a blank screen.  It’s just that I so rarely even see the cursor awaiting input.  I can’t ever make the time.

A few days ago, I finally got sick of my own bullshit, and opened a blank document.  I started typing away with a new determination.  (The end result was my most recent post about finding grey hair.) 

However, what initially emerged doesn’t look like what I posted.  Instead, it was 600 words of self-indulgent navel-gazing.  It was a lot of blather about something that happened a few years ago.  (I guess I still had something I needed to purge.) Blah blah blah.  Whine whine whine. Definitely more appropriate for a diary than online.  

It felt good to write, but I wound up scrapping it. Still, the act of writing got me somewhere.  It helped me realize that what I’m experiencing isn’t writer’s block.  At least not in the traditional sense.  It’s something else.

As I wrote, the source of the problem dawned on me all at once, finally revealing itself;  this is depression. I am actually depressed. 

Oh.  

Well, shit.  

A resounding bell of recognition clanged through my head.  It all made sense…the weight gain and lack of motivation.  Those general feelings of “meh” and “blah” that I find myself succumbing to more often.  

This new knowledge was a relief.  Thinking that “something” is wrong with you, but not knowing what is frustrating!  Now that I know, I have a better path forward.  

The past year and a half changed everything.  I’ve never really been all that depressed, but I’m not surprised that this part of me was amplified.  

You see, depression isn’t always big, earth-shattering sadness.  Sometimes it manifests as a lack of interest and motivation…just like mine!  You can find a list of common symptoms of depression HERE..  Please talk to a health professional if you recognize these symptoms in yourself.

Please do not worry about me. I can promise that I am addressing this.  I am speaking to a therapist.  I am forcing myself to do things which will ultimately bring me joy. (Like writing more!)

Onwards and upwards,

Jennnq

**NOTE:  My mom had breast removal surgery (mastectomy) on Wednesday.  At that time, things looked very good and not inflamed.  They also removed a few lymph nodes, which the surgeon said looked ok.  (She is awaiting further results from pathology.)  She has been healing very well, and is far more active and capable at this stage than I would have anticipated.

The results from pathology will dictate the course of the radiation treatment to come.   I will share more details shortly. She is doing well, and the chemo has done a good job, judging from the results so far. 

A Suddenly Quiet Extrovert

Header Image: created by Rizon Parein for United Nations

Lately, trying to write anything at all has been nothing but a series of starts and stops.  I’ve revisited this piece off and on for the past week.  I write a little.  I rearrange it.  I delete it.  I get tired of it and shut off the computer.  I come back the next day and try it all again.  

Ironically, despite the “extra” time that I now have in my schedule, my creative output has dwindled down to nearly nothing.  It has not meant more words on the page.  In fact, I’ve been feeling like writing has become this insurmountably hard thing.  

I hardly know what to say.  I’ve never gotten deep into thought over what would actually happen during a pandemic.  I think I might still feel shocked.  It’s weird for me to not be able to write, but lately it’s like I can’t find any words. It’s shut me right up.  Anyone who knows me knows that this is atypical.  In fact, I feel like I am half-forcing myself just to write these words. 

Half-forcing, while the other half remains desperate to communicate. 

Hey everyone!  How are you?  I hope you’re doing alright considering the state of things!  Did I mention that I miss seeing you?  Did I mention that I love you?? Do you even KNOW how much I  LIKE you?!??? *Explodes into a rainbow of emotions*

I’m done putting this thing off, though.  I’m going to post on this stupid blog tonight, come hell or high water.  Even if I can’t muster up any sense of flow.  Even if I can’t manage to polish this post up to some kind of ideal standard.

Ugh.  I don’t even care if it’s pretty anymore.  

Look, I’m half-afraid to post because I feel like my privilege is showing with every word.  I feel like a total moron complaining about my “lack of productivity” while the world is in turmoil. It’s like… 

No one cares about your damn blog, Jennnq.  

Fair enough.  But then again, I guess I care.  I don’t have much to offer beyond words on a page, but they matter to me.  Even if they serve no more purpose than my own brief entertainment, that’s ok.  That’s something.

When this whole thing started, and I began working from home, I’ll admit that I thought of the silver linings.  There’d be no more commute.  I’d have more time with my family.  (Well, immediate family, anyway.)  There’d be more time to write and for creative projects.  Less time spent on trying to look nicer.  Less time spent packing lunches.

I never counted on how I would feel.  I never counted on becoming reacquainted with insomnia and my sleep schedule upending itself.  I never counted on how emotionally frozen I would feel.  I’ve lost motivation and focus.  

But like, it’s a pandemic, not a fun little experiment in telework.  Therefore, I am reminded that I must cut myself some slack.  The news and reality of what is happening in the world weighs on my soul, just like I’m sure it does for everyone else.  I was wrong to assume that I could corral my life into a tightly orchestrated routine.

Maybe it’s affecting you in weird ways too.  Maybe you haven’t had much of an appetite, or maybe you want to eat everything.  Maybe you’re a little more emotional over things.  Maybe you are feeling more surreal and detached.  Maybe you are having trouble sleeping.  Maybe you are sleeping too much.  Maybe you’re channeling your energies into something constructive.  Maybe you just can’t handle that right now.    

However you feel, this is a reminder that that is ok.  If you are still having some big crazy feelings about the pandemic (and also of course the current US situation), then that is normal.   Your unique response to the pandemic is ok.  If you haven’t been your best self, that’s alright too.

I also want to say hello.  (Desperate to communicate, remember?) I’m still here, although I’ve been quiet.  I really miss being around groups of people.  (Right now I actually have this crazy craving…I really want to go to an all-night sweaty dance party.  I want to be 25 and dance forever to techno music.  It’s totally impossible!)


I have a feeling you’ll be hearing from me more often now.  I am hereby forcing myself to write.  I’m so done with being frozen into nothingness.  I’d like to return to being my fiery self.