It’s Day 2 of NaNoWriMo, and already I have dark shadows under my eyes, and a rain cloud above my head to match. I haven’t even gotten to writing anything yet! I’m sitting here with the 5,000 words I wrote in last year’s half-assed attempt, a slew of highlighted and scribbled on notes, and a steaming cup of Theraflu. And I’m thinking to myself, now what?
After weeks of stressing, fretting, worrying, panicking over that sharp bang of the starting pistol, it’s finally here. NaNoWriMo- 50,000 words in 30 days. I’m 2 days in, without a single word written, and already I feel like giving in. It’s not that I don’t have an entire world in my head threatening to escape. It’s not for any lack of notes, ideas, or most of all, time. I have all the time in the world, so that’s the least of my excuses. No. It’s because of depression.
I’m back home- out of that damned haunted rental house which we’ve been staying in. I got to sleep a plentiful 9 hours in my own bed last night with my cats crawling all over my face in welcome home celebration. I’m closer to the few friends I have. I get to write in the sanctuary that is my “fox den”, and not at some cheap particle board desk in a house that smells faintly of mildew and ghosts. So why has depression flung itself at me like a facehugger, slowly sucking the life out of me?
I don’t have the answers, and I’m not sure I ever will. I’d be willing to guess it’s something in the water though, seeing as how even our beloved Tribe Leader, The Bloggess, is struggling with this beast lately. Or perhaps it’s the weather, or the fact that I’m coming off a medication I’ve been on for 5 years, so my hormones are playing monkey in the middle with my brain. Maybe there is no reason.
But there’s a reason I write. A reason I drag myself to the keyboard and bleed over it until I have something halfway presentable for the few wonderful people who take the time to read these posts. Because if there’s anything The Bloggess Tribe has helped me see, it’s that I’m not alone. Sometimes, when the days are truly dark, and it seems like the storm will never pass, a tiny sliver of sunlight peeks through the clouds. Be it a message from my seemingly telepathic friend, Snow or delicious cheese porn from the Ballpit Gangsta, The Bloggess Tribe always reminds me that I’m not alone. It rarely makes sense to anyone else, but at least we can be nonsensical in solidarity.
In a way, it’s a lot like NaNoWriMo. There’s no logic to deciding to write 50,000 words in 30 short days. No sane person says to themselves one day “Desperately trying to write an average 1,667 words of a novel every day for a month sounds lovely. Where do I sign up?” It’s a bunch of positively mad people with a dream, putting themselves under a massive amount of pressure with a seemingly impossible deadline in hopes that their passion will come to fruition. Depression feels quite the same, except we’ve no idea what we’re meant to be doing, and the deadline is always changing on us.
The important thing to remember is that, at the end of the day, it’s not how many words you write, items you check off your to-do list, or whether or not you saved the world. It’s about doing the best you can, with what you have, and knowing, should the seas get rocky, that there are always others willing to lend a hand.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a world to create…