Since writing my last blog, I’ve been in a slump. My creativity, along with my mental and emotional health, has waned. There have been days where I felt my depression come on like a sudden wave while I’m sitting at my desk or fighting through traffic. My social media has become a constant bombardment of terrifying political appointments, people being awful, and terrible things happening in the world. Then there are the people sprinkled in that telling me that I should be caring more, how I need to avoid the sweet siren’s call for apathy and calm—that I need to keep fighting against normalization of the events of the past couple of months.
The call to stay strong and vocal is important. It’s extremely difficult for people to maintain their productivity and rage over an extended period of time, and morale boosts are necessary. A younger version of myself would heed these calls, wearing them as armor as I stormed the gates. Now, I’m just tired of emotionally draining myself over and over to fill the well back up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still paying attention to the aftermath of the election. The genocide in Syria. These things still swirl around my mind like an unsolvable puzzle.
My depression and anxiety makes it hard enough for me not to fall into a deep sea of despair every time that I log onto my social media accounts. Even when I can donate, write, or make the calls, I feel like there is so much more I could be doing, and I’m being lazy by not spending every waking moment stressing or doing something. And when the depression kicks in, I feel even guiltier. People have so much more to lose than me; who am I to sit in my car and cry after work? How can I possibly write anything that hasn’t already been said? Or, has been said by more qualified and talented people? Does my writing actually make a difference or do anything?
With careful thought and sage advice from friends I’m reminded that there is beauty in the struggle. There are days where the weight of the world will be too much for me, and I’m extremely lucky to have a support network to help me stand up after a fall. Every day that I’m here is a victory. I might feel like I’m losing a battle, but the war still rages on, and I’m very much still in the fight. The world may seem like it’s crumbling around me, but today is not a bad day if I continue to write. To think. To breathe.