I usually don’t want to get emotional on the Internet. Oftentimes when people pour out their “soul” in whatever blog form they tend to get trolled to death for whatever trivial reason. But I think today, right now, I want to write something stupidly personal. And that is, I feel like I have a purpose again.
Perhaps this is what they meant when you get out of depression. Nothing major has happened, just a series of light, seemingly unrelated small victories (like successfully bake a cake, or put your laundry away on time, or finish that paragraph of that chapter you’ve been working on for the past week). And you mentally tally them together and compare you to yourself six months ago, and you think, wow, something has changed. You feel like you just woken up from a long, tired dream, and the day doesn’t look brighter or anything cliché like that, but it just feels like a day instead a dread. Today I will wake up, fix some food, and sit down and write this chapter. Tomorrow I will move on to the next chapter, and in a couple of months every chapter would’ve been written and I will have a first draft of a novel in hand. And that’s it. No fanfare, no agony, just a clear, achievable goal. And I will feel like I’m working a real job, and am a real writer, even though I still haven’t earned penny writing. Yet. That “yet” doesn’t bring me pain, or massive amount of guilt, anymore.
2016 has been a shitty year to many, many people. But it’s the year I’ll always remember as the end of a long depression. I didn’t know it wasn’t over until it’s over, you know? The whole thing started years ago, and finally, today, I feel like I’m completely out of it. Through therapy of many forms. When everyone’s dreading January 2017 in America, I’m looking forward to it. Because that’ll be the month when I finish my novel (well, that’s the plan, might spill over to February, but whatever, close enough.) And then I can work on editing my short stories, and send them out, and all that jazz. And I’ll maybe earn like 300 dollars, and then I’ll have physical proof that yes, this is a career choice and not some childhood fancy, and I’m not just a jobless bum with illusion of grandeur who lucked out on marrying someone with steady income.
Now – back to work!