Depression Sponsor Needed

I do not fear writer’s block. No, what I fear is brain block, life block, mother fucking blackness raining from the sky and swallowing me whole block. Truthfully, I would trade a little writer’s block to get rid of all the rest of the stuff. I think more than any other reason this is why I have spent about ten hours riding around on my motorcycle this week.

I had forgotten how much riding my motorcycle gave me time to clear my head. Enjoy the scenery and think. I have known for about the last two weeks I had fallen into one of the darker spots I have fallen into in years. I was starting to worry. The last time I felt this depressed and sad I stopped writing for about seven years. I had a top notch case of the sky is falling.

It started when I got back from Comic-Con. Someone I respect said something to me at Comic-Con that sent me into a death spiral of blackness. The implication from the person was pretty clear that my current attempt at writing novels and publishing on my own was folly. I know the person didn’t mean to do this but with a few well placed words they showed me exactly where they thought I stood on the writer hierarchy.

It bothered me. I know it did. I said something to Sheri that night on the phone. I stewed on it for days. Then I went home and slunk into a hole. I have been unfocused and unproductive ever since. Last night I was lying in bed and I could feel the tears coming. Anger and sadness mixing together. Most of the anger I am directing squarely at myself. I know I get like this. I am usually better at dealing with it. It almost felt like I wanted it to happen this time. Some sort of ridiculous pity party.

Then I fell asleep (thank goodness). When I woke up this morning I reminded myself how my brain gets. I decided to write this fucker out and remind myself of a few basic tenants of my life. I love my wife, my family and my friends. I love to write. I know some things will always bother me. The world weighs on me.

Poverty and hate and racism make me sad beyond comprehension. Politicians make me want to scream with their fake concern for all of us. Fox News, and all of their brethren make me want to punch myself in the skull with their message of division. People who think they know everything, people who don’t know enough and don’t care, people who are mean. THey all put weight on my heart no matter how much I try to ignore it.

My brain wants to paint the world black sometimes. I have always been able to resist it. Sometimes it takes longer than others. This was a bad one. I feel better now. I think I am ready to return to the regularly scheduled program. Time to be happy and funny. Time to write. Time to start picking on the things which make my heart heavy in my blog. Time to see a movie. Time to teach children, hug my wife, and play with my kittens. Thank you all of my friends and readers for putting up with this crap sometimes. I know I am getting better at maintaining. It has been a long time since I have had one this bad. I am going to try real hard to avoid the next one. I might have to get myself a depression sponsor. I wonder if Cat Deeley is available?

About csdaley

C.S. Daley was born in California but has spent most of his life in his imagination. His first short story written in third grade, the now classic "Close Encounters of the Turd Kind," was sold to his next door neighbor for a quarter. The neighbor promptly demanded a refund. An unhealthy obsession with the writings of Neil Gaiman, Christopher Moore, and Terry Pratchett have left his mind warped and broken. He spends most of his evening swilling down coffee while tapping at a keyboard under the watchful eyes of his kittens. They are there to make sure he doesn't snap. He likes to write fantasy for adults and teens.

3 Responses to “Depression Sponsor Needed”

  1. Hey. A lot of people suck. You’re not one of those people. You inspire me what with insisting on ACTUALLY writing more often than not. Make me feel like a phony 😉 Cheers to feeling better, friend!

  2. what you’re doing is the future of books, i certainly don’t think it makes you any less of a writer. maybe that person is jealous or just set in old ways.

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