It’s only writing that drives me up the wall. That makes me have a love and hate relationship with it. That puts me into a cold miserable vortex of depression.
The way I’ve been feeling these days, I should be on drugs.
At first I thought it must be because of hormones. These dormant insecure emotions I didn’t know to possess are released by a simple internal body change. I want to press the Forward button hard and be at the scene where I’ve already accomplished my goal. I feel frustrated at where I am right now –at the START part of the board game. I fee like rushing with a bang and publishing tons of articles and short stories at once and burn myself out. I look at my recent accomplishments and sneer at how puny and puerile they are. There’s a sinking feeling in my chest. Who am I kidding right? And suddenly I don’t want to do the hard work anymore. Reality comes hard and fast and harsh. There is an intense pull for me to resign this writing project and go back to my day job.
I’m sure many of us have these days when we’re chasing our dreams. The sudden reality check. A monstrous voice that shouts, "What the fuck are you doing? Get your head out of the clouds." Remember this is just a phase. A moment like this will be gone. Wallow yourself in in and release it like I have by journaling and channeling these pent-up emotions into words. They are nothing but insecurities being voiced out by little selves. "Are you sure?" they finally whisper after crying and banging out to your psyche.
And the calm, strong you that you never thought you possess will say, "Yes, I am. We can get through this. We can make this work."
Because even if you give up, your passion will always be a part of you. It’s who you are. It is who you are meant to be .