I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but something is definitely off. I don’t have my funny. And I know it. I know it. I go through my day and something will happen and I’ll know how my brain is supposed to work, it’s supposed to twist it a little and get some humor out of it, but it’s not happening. I just see life literally and bleakly. I see that I have limited time with my children left and instead of pouring cocktails and rejoicing, I am devastated. I’ve become that mother. I feel broken and I don’t know how to fix it. It’s like I have postpartum depression, fourteen years too late. I never claimed to be a quick study.
I’ve tried medication and for years it was the right solution for me. But then the side-effects made it the wrong solution to me. So I weaned off and I was fine. And I am still fine, but I am missing something. Like happiness. Happiness isn’t a right, though, is it? It’s just something that I was lucky enough to feel for most of my life, but maybe it has run its course.
Blogging has been such a huge part of my identity for the past four or so-who-can-count- years and now it just isn’t. I’m not getting back to sponsors, people who pay me, because I feel like I’ve lost my way. I have no interest in going to BlogHer even though one of my closest friends lives in Chicago. I am not making my writing deadlines and I’m letting people down. I have not touched my memoir for weeks. When I read the last things I’ve written, they read like bad translations.
I know that this will pass. I know that I will see the funny again. That’s how it works, right? But what if it doesn’t. What if this is the rest of my life right here? That scares me so much. So much.
I just wanted to let you know. I’m looking to get back to where I was, but it may take me a while.
Thanks, as always, for your support and your friendship. This sucks.