So we’re a full week into NaNoWriMo, and I’ve written a grand total of 700 words since the start of the month. My account profile says my project is at 7,805 words, but that’s deceptive. I started with something like 7,100 words, but I wanted to reach 60,000 this month. I told myself that I would do better than I did last year. I told myself (and the rest of my sparse friends list) that I would update my blog and Instagram twice a week to keep myself on track. And I’m one week into the challenge and I feel like a failure.
Sequel (the platform I’ve been publishing my Make Me Maid of Honor series) announced they were shutting down this week. And that, among many other things, has got me down. I kind of expected it, but I still feel like a failure.
Can I be brutally honest for just a minute? Sometimes, like right now, I just don’t see the point. I’ve struggled with chronic depression for ten years, and I have to admit despite everything that’s supposedly “good” that has happened to me in those ten years there are days like today where I just feel like there’s no point in trying to be happy. Because eventually, I wind up right back here again. Hello old nemesis, the darkness monster. It seems like no matter what, you’re always following. No matter what temporary joy I can lay ahold of, you’re always there telling me it can’t last and it’s not enough.
I’m burned out. I’m heartbroken. I’m depressed again. And I don’t have a redeeming corner to turn here in this post. I’m still staring down a blinking cursor and I don’t have any idea on how to make it move. I still feel like a failure at everything I’ve ever attempted. And I don’t need an inspiring speech. I don’t need a phone call or a hug. I just need to write the next word.