Writing is hard. It’s complicated. Multi leveled. Complex and, sometimes, a total pain in the butt. Now that I’ve got a bit of posts under my belt, I feel I’m finally learned more about the overall idea and concept of writing. Each time I post I’m earning more and more respect for the craft. Of course, I had plenty of that before but, now, it’s kind of like reading the more in-depth code hidden beneath the obvious.

Every since I started writing I’ve wanted to understand more about everything. Especially writing. I’ve written many thinks just for the sake of it, and it’s helped me realize that writing can be more than something someone does.

I don’t want to say I live writing. But, I like to say I’m pretty damn close. If I’m sitting, I’m thinking about writing. If I’m feeling down, I’m thinking about writing. And on those starry nights when the struggle becomes real, I hope that writing is staring at me with its cruel, tempting eyes.

It’s taken me a long time to admit and talk about openly, but I’ve always struggled with depression and anxiety. I’ve brought this stuff up vaguely in other posts but I feel it needs a full address at this point. I’ve lived with the negative just as long as I’ve been a writer so I sometimes think of all of them together. I can’t help it.

I sometimes think that the depression and anxiety has shaped my writing. In all honesty, I’m afraid to accept that it has because accepting it seems too…real.

Writer’s block happens randomly because my anxiety spikes. I think the world is ending because I haven’t published, or I feel I’m wasting time the more and more I work on something else other than a possible published piece. I use my joy of writing to combat the anxiety, but there will always be days that the negative overcomes the positive. It’s part of life and part of living with these two things until I get the tools to handle them myself.

Writing isn’t a solution. I wish it was yet I have accepted that writing is my joy, not my solution. Eventually I’ll reach that level.

Dealing with depression, even on medication, is the hardest part. It hits like a wave, a dense unhappy wave sometimes. I have a particularly real feeling nightmare–a night terror–and suddenly I’m waking up in a sweat bogged down by everything. My ideas stale, my inspiration freezes, and I fall into a crevice where nothing but cold, unyielding sadness takes over.

I don’t want to feel that way. I never have, never will. But it’s not something easily taken care of. As someone who has been doing the thing he loves since seven years old, writing unfortunately is not a solution for professional help.

Why do I write about this? Actually, I don’t know. There’s something about a blog that makes it easier to express these feelings. I don’t feel nervous to type about this because the warmth of just writing makes it feel…lighter. Better. It makes me feel better. I simple type of therapy. Not a substitution but a medicine meant to open the door for something more permanent.

I decided to write this because I’ve been dealing with writer’s block for a couple days. It’s like a weight on the inside. My brain feels heavy and crushed by an invisible vice whenever I try work on a piece. I think that’s the real reason for this post. I hope it not only gets those juices flowing. But I also hope it’ll chip away at the brick wall that represents my issues.

Anxiety, fear, depression, hopelessness, worry, no way out, trapped–

Writing, for me, helps quell these thoughts. And I think that’s why I’ll never stop fighting those feelings. Because writing will always be a type of weapon against them.

Deep down those feelings and thoughts are completely tangled in my desire to write. It’s a balance of inner poetry.

And while I sometimes think that my writing wouldn’t be anywhere without those unfortunately thoughts, that won’t prevent me from one day getting the help I need.

Why?

Because I just want to write great stories without my own brain getting in the way.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to write a story about fourteen beavers plotting to overthrow an advanced alien race from Jupiter.