Krissie: Losing My Religion

Lots of food for thought yesterday, and I can’t decide whether I want to talk about happiness or my epiphany, but I promised the epiphany, so here goes.
I’m a writer. I know that comes as a shock to everyone, but it’s more than a job. It really is who I am. Writers have told me they wouldn’t write if they weren’t paid for it, that they could turn their back on it. Writers retire. My BFF Sally spent hours trying to argue with me that being a writer is only a small part of who I am.
Nope. I am a writer, I come from a long line of writers (well, maybe not that long). I wrote “novels” in fifth grade on up.
All my life I wanted children, I wanted babies. And yet, when I was going through the unending pain of infertility, I never once offered God a bargain where he could take my writing if he’d just let me get pregnant. And trust me, you make a lot of bargains.
My sexual fantasies are in words, not pictures. Everything I do is in service to writing. I go to movies that will inspire me, or I go see something different so that the break will inspire me. I live and breathe story.
And it’s been eluding me. Enough that I feel like I won’t ever be able to write again. That I’ve finished with it, over, it’s lost, gone. I’ve been wondering whether it’s age, but realized that was crap. Some of my favorite writers are older than me and still writing wonderful stuff. I tell myself I just don’t have any new stories to tell.
That’s wrong too. Less than a year ago I was brimming with so many ideas I was desperate to write that I decided I couldn’t ever die — I just had too many stories to tell.
And suddenly, for the first time in my life, that’s gone.
It’s a combination of “that which shall not be discussed” which is career issues, and the depression, and being horribly late with a new publisher. I always had faith in who I was, knew who I was. A writer.
And now I don’t know any more.
It’s a combination of circumstance and depression. In the past, circumstance would at least remind me that my depressed thoughts were just thought.
Now circumstance is reinforcing those thoughts. Or at least not giving me any respite.
So the hopelessness of this current depression comes from losing everything I thought I was, I thought was true about me. I guess it’s like being a nun and finding out that god is that man behind the curtain, pulling levers, and not the great and beneficent Oz.
I don’t know if that helps, but at least I understand it a little better. So much of this is out of my control, and being depressed and having cosmic temper tantrums won’t change it. It feels like nothing will.
Okay, there’s time to talk a little about yesterday. Acting A Zif. Which is when you act “as if” something is true, sort of “fake it till you make it” kind of thing. I suppose my best bet is to try to summon up enough energy to shut out those voices and pretend. Because right now it doesn’t feel like the depression talking, it feels like the truth.
Anyway, the revisions are moving, and I’m enjoying some of the book. So back I go, armed and dangerous, ready to finish this. I wish I could sleep during the night and stay awake during the day. I wish I could feel better.
But one day at a time.

45 thoughts on “Krissie: Losing My Religion

  1. oneoftheotherjennifers says:

    On November 24th, that would be six days ago, you wrote 7K words.

    You’re depressed. You’re probably not getting enough exercise, you’ve got tons of stress. What about letting go of this “I have to wait for Christmas” thing? I don’t see how that can be doing you any good.

    You are not done with writing. Obviously. Don’t worry about it.

    Worry less. Have more fun. All will be well.

  2. Maine Betty says:

    Depression lies(the bastard.)

    Hang in there. You made changes,and change once started brings surprises. Not that you’re no longer a writer (ha!) but you’ve shaken up old habits, experienced a major loss, and are suffering through a depression. It isn’t surprising your usual process is shaken up. It will settle back in. Does that make sense?

  3. Tracey says:

    That “truth” you feel? That IS the depression; it DOES lie; its the same “truth” that can drive suicides to the act, because they feel that nothing will ever change, that the pain will never go away. I’m NOT suggesting you are suicidal, but you sound so very tired, and almost half convinced that the “truth” is right. It’s not. Work on the meds. Talk to the doc every day if need be. Go somewhere safe if you need to — dare I say, leave the damn revisions if necessary. You are having a full-fledged medical crisis, which you need to take more seriously than you are — that’s part of the depression too. Your worth is not tied up in how well you manage to keep it together for your family. They love you no matter what. Lani and Jenny, if you’re reading this, she needs you, she’s at the edge of the abyss, and looking over. It’s a long way down.

  4. Deb says:

    ok, you already know this but I’m going to reiterate it….the terrible, terrible thing about depression is the fact that the depression talking does feel like the truth. Depression doesn’t speak the truth…it lies.
    My brother-in-law had a dear friend who committed suicide…he had a successful career, loving family, he was a wonderful father. And he just couldn’t see it in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, he completely believed that his co-workers, family, etc were at best just trying to be nice and that really his was just a big loser. I know people who don’t have to deal with depression get frustrated at the illogic of it….that all the evidence in the world can’t drown out the depression talking.

    Ugh, this is turning into a really depressing comment. I’ll just end with–you’re a writer, dammit. We all think you’re amazing. My thoughts are with you as you continue to struggle against depression.

  5. I’ve mentioned before I’ve never experience depression but I’ve learned a lot about it from this blog and my first reaction is the same as the ladies above. This depression is screwing with you. There’s no truth in what your brain is telling you right now. You are who and what you are. That’s not going to suddenly go away.

    You’re nurturing. That won’t change. You’re outrageously funny and frank. That won’t change either. And you’re a writer. As you say, that element is as much a part of you as these other qualities. Things like that don’t just disappear. Buried under this depression? Sure. But it’s still under there somewhere.

  6. I felt like that last year around this time. I, too, have been writing since I was a kid, but I couldn’t even drum up the excitement to write something silly, something just for me. Nada. I was terrifying. Who was I, if not a writer? What was I going to do with myself for the rest of my life?

    But I was also dealing with a lot of stress that had accumulated over a year: my father died in January 2010, my sister had a severe aneurysm in December 2010 and I’d flown across the country every other month, and then my husband was in a serious motorcycle accident in June 2011 (he’s fine now). I kept telling myself I should be fine, I should be over it, things were back to normal, because I’d have one good day. I couldn’t accept that it was a process. I didn’t know until a few months later that I was also going through menopause, which added to the crazy.

    I say all this because I learned that it gets better. At the time, I had been getting all my previously sold stories up for sale electronically, and I figured I’d just keep on doing that; if I never wrote again, I’d at least have the income from 100+ short stories and a few novels for mad money in the future.

    Getting back to writing was a long, slow process, and I’m still not 100% there. I shy away from deep emotion; I come up with excuses not to write. But when I do, I’m finding the joy again, the magic.

    It will get better. As someone else said, a week ago you had a 7K day, and that is marvelous – well more than most writers can produce. I read a quote about running recently: “You’re already lapping everyone who’s on the couch.” You’ll have good days and bad days, so just don’t focus on the bad days. Give yourself time. The good days will start to overtake the bad days, more and more, until the bad days are few and far between and you’ll be able to shrug them off more easily. Honest.

  7. AuntieJB says:

    To me it sounds like part of your current crises is about a fear of losing the one thing that is part of your spirit. For me, that’s singing and music. For you, it’s writing.

    As I’ve mentioned before, I’m going through a period of “re-entry” after years of depression speaking nasty thoughts to me. One of my current efforts is to get back into a routine of singing regularly-to bring music back into my life. I’m finding it is HARD work. It never was before. Now I’m thinking that maybe music is not really a part of my spirit. Those thoughts cause a tiny crack to form which allows Depression to tell me lies all over again.

    Is it possible you are going through a similar thing? Writing is a part of your spirit and always will be. You are a fighter so have faith that your writing will always be a part of you.

  8. Your life has been a soap opera this year. You’ve really gone through a lot. Anyone would be feeling the effects of all of that by now. But, you’ve made amazing strides and accomplished so much even during the most trying months.

    I’ve been feeling pretty blue and downtrodden myself these past few weeks. Crying at my desk at work. Almost anything makes me weepy. I blame it on the winter solstice. It’s hard when it gets dark at 4:30 p.m. I’m just going to hold on until the 21st of December when the days start getting longer again and the sun shines a little longer in the evenings. We’re going to turn a corner soon and it’s right up ahead.

  9. H says:

    For some reason this reminds me of a scene in The Princess Bride –

    Inigo: I am waiting for you, Vizzini. You told me to go back to the beginning. So I have. This is where I am, and this is where I’ll stay. I will not be moved.
    Brute: But the Prince gave orders –
    Inigo: — So did Vizzini — when a job went wrong, you went back to the beginning. And this is where we got the job. So it’s the beginning, and I’m staying till Vizzini comes.

    We’ll wait with you. In the meanwhile, I say we form a sock-folding coalition or union and demand benefits.

  10. All I have to say is you are a most amazing writer.

    Last night I was exhausted from doing proofs and I climbed into bed around 9pm and started reading Escape out of Darkness. I knew your characters immediately. Mack is wonderful. I woke up this morning and had a distinct picture of him in my mind and I’d only read two chapters. You are an amazing writer. Nobody can ever take that away from you.

    Now, what you do to get your spark back is, I think, stop fighting it, stop trying to make it happen.

    Take out a diary or legal pad, or open a new document and start writing the most gut wrenching sob filled story you can and based upon your life, your feelings, your battles. Just let it all pour out. And if you decide to share it with the world, fine. If not, fine. But I think you’ll have a bestseller.

  11. As part of the Greek chorus, I’ll chime along: depression lies. It makes complete bullshit “feel” like truth. One of our weapons of self-defense is to speak the truth. We may not “feel” it or truly believe it, but it’s important to speak the truth anyway. And one really big truth right now is that the depression is interfering with your creativity and your judgement. You cannot predict the future of your creative life from where you stand right now. I just don’t think it’s possible. And ALL the past evidence suggests that your writing self is just as much a part of you as it ever was, just not up to par at the moment. This might be a lousy analogy but it’s what I’ve got at the moment: if you break your leg and can’t walk on it, it isn’t as if you’ve lost your leg. It just needs time to mend.

    I am so sorry you are in this pain right now, and I wish you peace and comfort. I hope you can be as gentle and loving with yourself as you truly deserve.

  12. Oh Krissie, I understand you so much! As everyone has said, depression LIES! And that’s what’s holding you back and telling you that maybe you’ve lost your writing mojo and it’s hiding the amazing ideas you had. Everything you had is still there. My god, you just lost your mother after so much difficulty in your relationship with her and after pain with her dying. It took me almost two years after my mom died to start to feel normal and I had a wonderful and mostly uncomplicated relationship with her. I’m still trying to regain my writing mojo. You have all the complications tying up with your depression. Give yourself some slack. Whenever you think bad thoughts at yourself, stop and tell yourself all the truths of your life in response to the bad thoughts (this is cognitive therapy and is doable on your own, but your therapist can help). You can do this. You are strong as hell, you are creative and imaginative, you work with words and thoughts and so you KNOW how to talk back to that crazy depression.

    You can do it and we are here for you. Always.

    So sorry you are feeling so bad. But remember, that you are Krissie and you Rock!

  13. Krissie, if you had severely injured your dominant hand (let’s say, right hand, to make this easy), and you had to start using your left hand for a while for things you would normally have to use your right hand for, you’d feel awkward and slow and frustrated. It wouldn’t mean that you’re no longer right-handed, a very basic part of who you are. It would simply mean you were making some adjustments. At worse, you’d come out of the injury a little more practiced at using your left hand; at best, you might even become ambidextrous.

    Grief and depression have injured that creative part of your brain that used to work a certain way, and is now locked in a cast of doubt. That part of you can’t be excised or completely destroyed–it’s a part of your basic you-ness. It probably doesn’t feel like it’s ever going to get well, but it will. And the process feels awkward and wrong and frustrating, but underneath all of that, there actually is healing starting to happen. It might not feel like it for a long long time, but it’s happening.

    Many years ago, I went through something terrible, and it felt like it obliterated who I was. I quit writing, and quit doing a lot of the things that were ~me~ — partially because I just didn’t feel capable anymore, and partially because I felt guilty moving forward with the thing I loved, like I somehow didn’t deserve any joy. My husband dragged me back from the abyss by sitting me down and repeating, constantly, that I was a writer, that that was who I was, regardless of how I felt about it right then, so I needed to write. It took a while to break out of the depression that was encasing me, and then a while after that to really get back to writing at the level I’d been before, but that’s when I realized I could still write and the creativity was still there. Buried as it had been, it came back.

    I’ve gone through that again, this year, with my brother in the hospital with the lymphoma, and then the bone marrow transplant, and then, right when he was allowed to go home, back in the hospital with a severe Graft vs. Host Disease (the graft cells fighting the host cells), which almost killed him. He’s finally improving, and, not coincidentally, I’m finally able to think creatively again. Just a little, not at the level I’d been before, but it’s coming back.

    This is just one of those phases in life we must pass through. In the long run, as hard as they are, I think they make us better people. And I know they make us better writers.

    You are a writer, Krissie. You could no more change that than you could shed your skin.

  14. Kieran says:

    Krissie, this is where I get kind of into spiritual terms like God, so I hope I don’t offend anyone. But I actually learned this in a class with Michael Hauge. He talks a lot about identity versus essence, and at the end of his talk, he says, this talk wasn’t only about your characters. It’s about YOU. Who are you when you strip yourself of your identities and get to your essence?

    That question sent me on a year-long search–I was truly in the midst of an identity crisis! An essence crisis! I AM a mother. I AM a writer. How dare he say I’m not those things? That they are mere identities? He claimed that we are something beneath them. So I gave it a shot. I was going to look for my essence. So if someone took all those things away from me, who am I?

    it came down to this. I’m a child of God. A little blob off the big Presence that is all-good. I’m part of it. I’m not important, I’m not “special.” But I am part of that which is important and special. And getting that stripped down actually freed me up to pursue my identities with a lot of joy and a lack of fear. Shit, man, I’m awesome at my very core. All the writing, all the being a mom and a friend and a wife and a daughter, etc. , all that is what I’m meant to PLAY with-and I’m going to mess up! A helluva lot! But I’m also going to have fun.

    God made a beautiful world with so many ridiculously fun things to do in it. So I play, and I embrace the loves of my life–including writing–because they reflect back to me the fact that this place is about joy if we just let go of the need to pin down who we are.

    So you’re a writer. You’ve got that pinned down. I say, let it go…for now…the need to say it’s YOU. Because I think what will happen is that by surrendering it, by giving yourself space to explore the parts of you you haven’t discovered or looked at for a long time, the writer in you is going to come roaring back. And when it does, you’ll have new power to apply to it. A new layer of magic. Because you were able to let it out of your embrace, you were able to walk in the dark, afraid and maybe confused, and still…STILL be Krissie, even so.

  15. One more for the ‘DEPRESSION LIES’ club. There is no way you are no longer a writer. It is your passion, heart and soul.

    There are so many wonderful thoughts before me, but I want to add that I think part of your problem right now are all the -have to’s- for between now and Christmas that you’ve set for yourself. Let some of it go. Make a list of what you just cannot do without, a small list, and let the rest of it go or have those other two people handle it. Christmas will still be there, just pared down. And better pared down and -time- to enjoy it, than crammed and miserable. Trust me on this, I’ve been there. {{{HUGS}}}


  16. My sixteen-year-old son said to me the other day, “The opposite of depression isn’t happiness. It’s hope. You know you’re depressed when you’ve lost all hope, and you know you’re getting better when you find it again.”

    Writing, by its very nature, is a hopeful act. You’ll get the writing back when you get the hope back.

  17. I am fairly certain you don’t remember me, but years ago I reviewed several of your books for Romantic Times. You were one of those authors who would make me light up when I found your name on my list for the month. I have admired you more years than I care to count and I know of what I speak here. You are immensely talented and just need to find a way to not let the doubts defeat you and rob us of all you have to share.

    I started my own business recently, following my passion the way you do with your writing, and have been working with authors on their work. I was filled with doubt and depression when my full time job disappeared and I was thrust into this new world I had created. There are days I don’t want to get out of bed, days I fear that I don’t have what it takes. On those days I just need to listen to my friends and family and find my strength in them until I have my own strength to lean on again.

    You have an amazing support system and friends and fans I am certain you wouldn’t even be able to number. When you can’t believe, let us believe for you. When you feel the urge to quit, turn to us so we can tell you why yours is a voice we don’t want to lose. When you think you have nothing left, let us remind you how much you have given us over the years and allow us to give you a little something back.

    You might not remember me, but I have never forgotten you and if ever I can do anything to give you back even the smallest amount of joy you have given me I would feel blessed.

  18. Tricia Halliday says:

    I sooooo know how you feel, different reasons, but I do know how you feel and I am soo sorry anyone has to feel like that. Hugs is the only thing I can think of. HUGS

  19. carolc says:

    Depression lies. Been there, done that. And yeah, while I was depressed my stories were buried so deep I couldn’t find them, but they weren’t gone. When I came out the other side, there they were, waiting for me. Yours are too. Your joy in writing will come back, I promise.

  20. I am with everyone else. Depression lies and so does grief. Grief is depression’s BFF and when you have both together, the bridge troll takes over your mind and LIES!

    I am a writer, but before even that I am a reader. I ALWAYS have books and I could ALWAYS turn to them. I never spent a moment that I couldn’t read, ever. Books were always my best friend and a place I could go to and escape the insanity of life which was all around me through most of my childhood.

    And then my dad died on Christmas morning. Yep. Christmas morning. There were funny things about it like the fact that we referred to him as Ebeneezer or the Grinch and suddenly Christmas would always be about him from that moment on. The Irish part of us all went into some pretty dark humor places. I think we cry through our tears in order to survive.

    However, I couldn’t read any new books for the next nine months. It took me six months before I felt joy again for the first time and it felt like the dove that finally brought back an olive branch to Noah, but I still could only read books that I’d read before. It was another three months before I finally bought a new book by a “new to me” author and was able to read the story. I felt like I’d come home to me again. That was nine years ago.

    Once you have this book done, try writing any story that may pop into your head. Try morning pages, 20 minutes longhand in a notebook, about anything and nothing and everything. I know this time of grief will pass, and let’s be real here, you are grieving more than just your mother’s death. The grief feeds into the depression and both lie like rugs.

    You are a writer. You always will be. Story will come back to you and when it does, watch out world.

  21. Thanks, Robin. He is still here, still fighting, and improving. The type of lymphoma he has is very rare, and very aggressive. No chance at all of survival without the bone marrow transplant, and we were extremely lucky; in spite of having a very rare allele cell, they found one donor (in the entire database, internationally) who matched him and she was willing to donate. Thank God for that woman, because without her, he would be dead already.

    Right now, there are things he’s fighting, but the good news is, he’s improving and he has a really really good shot at surviving this and living a long time.

  22. flip says:

    Really enjoyed the comments. Yes, you are a writer and you will continue to write. I am a long, long time fan. I have a huge shelf of your books. Maybe you are again making a new transition as a writer. After the death of your brother, you wrote Night Fall. It was unlike anything else that you had written. I loved it. I consider it a transitional piece. After Night Fall, many of your books were darker. They had darker heroes and darker themes. I loved them. Looking forward to whatever magic this current situation is creating.

  23. You’re not losing your religion, you can’t when it’s all around you, just look outside. 🙂

    Great advice and support from everyone, but I do like what oneoftheotherjennifers said.


  24. Danielle says:

    Well, if you haven’t been convinced after reading all the wonderful, insightful and supportive comments above, I doubt that my paltry two-cents-worth is going to sway you.

    But, here it is anyway: it’s ok. You are still You. The smog of depression has convinced you that you’re lost, but you aren’t: you’re still standing right where you last saw yourself. Your voice hasn’t suddenly gone silent. I really don’t think Creativity works that way. There are too many stories of people surviving atrocities (that would, one would think, kill the soul dead) coming out the other end more creative and more passionate than ever before. (I’m pretty sure it takes time to heal, though.)

    The stories that come to you via your imagination aren’t suddenly gone – it’s just that there are other voices (your grief, your depression, your worries) drowning them out.

    But you know what else? Even if you could never write another word, you would still be yourself. That can absolutely never change. Everything else is just dressing and for that to change is ok.

    (I have been going through some very gut-wrenching, ancient-history-unearthing, life-altering personal changes in the past year, so I know you’re afraid, but I don’t think you need to be. It’ll be all right.)

  25. Reb says:

    What everyone else said.

    Also, depression is exhausting. Writing takes energy. I’m not surprised you’re having trouble finding the energy – I think the fact that you can do it at all shows your skill and professionalism.

  26. ChelSierra Remly says:

    Here is a quote from ‘Eat, Pray, Love:’

    “Why they always look so serious in yoga? You make serious face like this, you scare away good energy. To meditate, only you must smile. Smile with face, smile with mind, and good energy will come to you and clear away dirty energy. Even smile in your liver.”
    –Ketut, from Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love

    I’ve been doing this and it has helped get rid of the negative voices in my head. They still pop up from time to time, but they’re not a constant thing.

    I surround the hurt/pain with love, and keep squeezing/hugging until it shrinks as small as I can get it. I try to keep a dance step in my walk, and a smile on my face at all times, even when something happens to me that hurts. (I stump my toe, or someone does or says something cruel. I try to just smile my way through a horrid experience.)

    You can do a search for that quote and find uplifting conversations to help remind you to keep that smile on your face as much as is possible.

    This is what I type in the search box:

    Eat Pray Love quote Smile in your liver

    This page confirmed, to me, that I had interpreted the quote right. That ‘liver’ = ‘heart’:

  27. AuntieJB says:

    Wow. This is a wonderful insight. It hits the nail on the head. I’ve copied your son’s quote and will keep it near.

  28. Micki says:

    It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost a year since we joined you on this blog journey. In all that time, I think you’ve only taken a break a couple of times, despite all the stuff that’s going on. You ARE a writer. You write this blog, you write your books, you write a lot of things.

    You may think you don’t want to be a writer anymore, and . . . OK. That’s valid. But it’s a negative goal. If you really are going to give up all this writing business, you need a positive goal — something you think you will love more than being a writer.

    Until then, you need to keep your dayjob. And since your dayjob is writing . . . .

  29. One of the worst part about depression’s lies is that they make you believe you will never feel any differently. That is not true. You will feel different. You will feel new. And you will hunger to tell stories again.

    Maybe not today or tomorrow, but that day will come.

  30. Chris S. says:

    A friend who went through a severe bout of depression later realized that it wasn’t that she always felt bad — she had some great days, she laughed, enjoyed visits with friends, etc. — but that she felt no connection between days. Yesterday was over, forgotten. Tomorrow was never coming. There was only and always now, unconnected with anything else. With time and medication, she found those links again. Or rather, discovered that they’d been there all along.

    Depression is a lying liar who lies. That fucker.

  31. Alicia says:

    Definitely work on your meds. Sleep is so important. Lack of sleep can cause (or aggravate)other problems (been there, done that). Cut yourself some slack and do something fun every day. Those fun things can be a source of inspiration. I’ve also noticed that if I do something productive every day (it can be small), I feel better about myself. Your books have brought so much joy to me and others; you deserve to get some of that happiness back. I’m sending positive energy your way!

  32. Barbara Cameron says:

    I agree with everyone that Depression lies. And Sarah W., your son’s comment is completely awesome. What wisdom.

    Krissie, you’d said with your last book that you didn’t want to have to roar to the end of it (not your words…I’m paraphrasing what I remember). You just had to do the same with this one. You’re mentally and physically exhausted and also still grieving. So be kind to yourself.

    Sometimes if the writing comes hard I can think I’m not a good writer. But it is what it is sometimes. Just because I have to chisel the words out of rock sometimes shouldn’t mean I think I should give it up. If that’s what’s going on with you, I hope you can take a little time off and recover and know that you are a fabulous writer and no one can take that away from you … except maybe Depression who lies.

  33. Lois says:

    This is the first time I’ve heard of another reader who couldn’t read in grief. I read after my dad died and after my mom died but I couldn’t do it after my sister died. It took me months also and then it was well loved books. I still don’t read as much as I did in my previous life.
    Our family also does the dark humor thing.

  34. Catherine says:

    Yeah I’ve done this too as a reader. I just had nothing to take me where an author would lead me. I pretty much gave up on suspense for months and months. The more gripping the tale the faster I would shut down. It’s probably taken a full year to getting back to favorite suspense authors. When I was able to read and enjoy JT Ellisons second last book I felt something loosen in me.

  35. Catherine says:

    I’ve spent the last 18 months grieving. The first 6 months adjusting while Mum died slowly and then through the void she has left with her passing. Initially I kept trying to write and perform tasks needed for my Masters. I had good routines,understanding lecturers and strategies out the wazoo…and yet I couldn’t sequence. Which is a nice way of saying words mocked me. Words had previously been my strength. Simple sentences contorted and became garbled. I hadn’t realized how much I depended on being able to write. I’m rarely totally happy with what I’ve written at the best of times. This was a new layer of misery. Yes it chipped away at my core. I am amazed that you’re still able to produce work. You have the dual monkeys of grief and depression riding you. Grief alone ground me to a halt. I know you may not be able to take a leave of absence as I did from study, but really being kind to yourself at this point is a survival tactic. Keep reaching out for help and try not to beat yourself up because you’re nor functioning as you would normally.

  36. When he was born, my midwife said that he had an old soul. Three days later, his doctor told me the same thing. Behind their backs, I rolled my eyes and thought, “Okay, that’s what happens when you give birth in Berkeley, CA.” Possibly I spent too long there, because I started believing them fairly soon thereafter.

  37. Tai says:

    Hey I’d say this blog proves you are a writer. 🙂
    I recently read your book “Wild Thing” and I loved it. It was beautiful.
    I have struggled with depression my whole life. I have been to therapy(need to go back). I was set free by self acknowledgment, self awareness, setting healthy boundaries, and facing down all of the horror in my soul one painful moment at a time. I also had to learn to accept the good too. The whole self. I still struggle to meet my emotional and mental needs. But I have found that being aware that I can change how I think about myself and everything it is up to me, as it is up to you. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself both in this blog and in your books.

  38. Micki says:

    My dad, after his heart attacks, fell into a depression where he stopped reading. Scared the hell out of my mother, and all of us really. To have something in your life so terrible that books are no longer a comfort . . . just a living hell to all of us.

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