Work Your Way Out

I’ve started therapy again. It’s been about 7 years since I’ve done any intensive work on myself, and it shows…especially in my writing. What I mistook for lack of “the right words” or talent is actually pretty severe depression that has hijacked my brain, allowing only the most basic of day-to-day operations. This, of course, excludes creative thinking of any kind and doing anything good for myself. So, I’m back on the couch, Mondays at 5. I like my therapist so far, and hope to clear the mush and cobwebs from my brain quite soon.

In the meantime, I just have to keep writing. Even if it’s crap, even if it lacks emotional connection: a problem which has spilled into every aspect of my life and onto the page. I’m in there, somewhere, and I’m working my way back.

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