Do you have to be a tortured soul to be a good writer? Or to write something worth reading? My best work is when I have been the least interested in life, when dark thoughts have invaded my 'inner subconscious' (redundant?)
I fall back on my writing as an escape... the worse I feel the better the words fall together.
I have also realized that all of my favorite bloggers struggle in some form with a personality disorder, most of which I suffer from, but refuse to let show. I know it is not a choice to be depressed or anxious, but having been clinically diagnosed with both, I fight daily to avoid succumbing to the pressure they put on me, both physically and emotionally... there are weeks when I hate my life, myself and my job.
Is it real maturity when I recognize why I suddenly have a lack luster approach to life? Why nothing seems worth it and I am tired all the time? I know why, but I hate to admit it... I find security in knowing great writers (whom I love) fight the same battles, but why can't writing be something beautiful, magical and amazing? Why do these words have to come from a dark and scary place?
Granted... I am sweetening every syllable from how I am really feeling today. I am dreading the end of day bell, because going home seems so much worse than sitting here.
This all came forward when I intentionally missed my spin class... my favorite class of the week. I watched the minutes disappear and did everything in my power to be 'too busy' to go. I hate myself for it, but the satisfaction of doing the class couldn't compete with the shear pain of considering the class.
What is wrong with me? How do I fix? Where do I find the motivation to make change? Hmpf.
Fibre is working... I'm tired, but its working.
Love?
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