The end of the year is a time for reflection. Writers tend to compile a list of books read and share some of the highlights and favorites. I hope to do that in a week or so. For now I want to focus on something different, something I don’t talk about often in my personal life but end up sharing a bit in my writer life for the sake of awareness and de-stigmatization: my mental health.
For the past few years I’ve been dealing with depression and anxiety, going on and off medication. I’m currently in an okay place. Not perfect but I’m managing with the help of magnesium and inositol and I plan to discuss my anxiety at my next doctor visit.
Why mention this now? The answer is partly in the above: I don’t know how long I’ve been dealing with depression and anxiety. I’m sure it’s been a year, or two. But it could be three.
I also have no clue when things turned around.
I want to say it was some time this year, but I’m not sure. It could have been this summer. Or was it last? Perhaps the fact that I can’t answer this question means I’m struggling more than I think. I don’t know. When I look back beyond the past few months they grow fuzzy. Time is speeding by, my growing son reminds me of this daily, and the days blend together. The when and the where and the how long gets lost somewhere along the way.
Good things have happened this year. I think. I had to look up dates to verify that my latest book contract came this year. And I am currently in the editing cave working hard on getting this novel ready for publication! Which is great and wonderful and extremely daunting. That’s the highs and lows of writing. And I’m able to handle it. The joy of my words is not robbed from me, and I’m even able to work a little on the parts of writing that is hardest on my mental health: the marketing side.
Without time stamps I can’t tell you for sure what’s happened this year vs last, with the exception of the last few months and more noteworthy moments. It’s been a long year. And the political environment doesn’t help, and I know it’s been a very long year for many of us, amidst any joys and sorrows.
I’m grateful to be feeling better. Not perfect, not yet, but better. Recovery while life continues, the world is on fire, the family needs you, jobs, ambitions, everything, is increasingly difficult.
I want to take a few moments during the holidays to breathe and enjoy my family. But as always, the holidays breeze past in a flash. Chanukah is over, Christmas is almost here, and there is still so much left to be done in 2018. Before I know it the New Year will be here and I’ll be back to trying to figure out what things happened when, as time continues to speed past and everything blurs together.
This did not begin on such a melancholy note, and yet it appears to be the way things grew. And I’m okay with that. This time of year has so much pressure to be happy and enjoy, but everything happens on top of our daily requirements and all that joy is squeezed between moments of panic and chaos. And still those moments are precious. I haven’t been up to baking lately, not that I ever was much of a baker to begin with. But I’ve told my son we should make cookies on Friday and I’m keeping it in my mind so I can be prepared to do so with him.
Baby steps. Small moments. Time will continue to fly past. Life demands won’t quit. Mental health may be lurking in the shadows, trying to let bygones be bygones.
What’s the saying? Life is what happens when you were busy making other plans. I think that is definitely true.
I do hope this year has been good to you, my readers. And I hope to get the timeline of my life aligned once again. I do know my creative juices are flowing and I have four books desperate for my attention, and two others that deserve it. So, yes, next year is almost here. And I think it will be a good one. I think, I’m not positive but I think, I will be starting it out on a healthier mental state. And that is reason to celebrate.