I don’t want to stop writing ;

I don’t want to stop writing. It’s an outlet for expression that has served me greatly in the last year. I’m able to articulate my feelings and thoughts in a way I simply can’t do out loud. It helps me find some perspective and gives meaning to the feelings I’m having.

I don’t want to stop writing.  I’m struggling lately with my mood, emotions, memories and self destructive behaviours. I’ve probably spent more time in my house these last 3 weeks than I have in the last 3 months. My home is not my sanctuary. My home is a reminder of where I have failed in life. I spend as much time as possible at friends houses, running away and hiding from the parts of me that my home illuminates. Its tough being faced day in day out with the shoulds and the what ifs. It makes my self worth sink even further down the rabbit hole and provides a platform for depression to do its work. The inner critics voice is so loud that I can’t really ignore it anymore. It tells me to stop writing. No one cares what I have to say anyway.

I don’t want to stop writing. I’m in a constant battle with myself. Depression doesn’t just tell you lies, it makes you believe them. It’s thoughts have once again become my narrative. The inner critic is made up of all the negative things people have said to me or about me, all the negative thoughts I’ve had, all my failings. I’ve never been good at anything. So why bother. There’s nothing special about me, no one cares what I have to say. I’m not worth people’s time. I’m better off being a shadow. Seen and not heard. My voice has always been somewhat muted. I spent 6 months as a teenager mostly mute. Then I learnt to talk again, but my words were always filtered. Never talk about emotion, never let anyone into the messed up mind of mine. I can feel my writing voice fading too now.  I try to write and hit a wall. Don’t go there V. Don’t open that can of worms.

I don’t want to stop writing. My thoughts and feelings aren’t valid. They aren’t justified. I think I’m feeling some kind of survivors guilt. Why do I feel depressed when all I’m being asked to do is stay at home and sit on my couch. There are doctors and nurses risking their lives to save people. They are suffering physically and mentally fighting this pandemic. There are people who are watching others die. Thousands of people have lost their lives. A thousand families have lost a relative. 3000 plus people have lost a friend. What have I got to be depressed about? All I’m being asked to do is stay home and sit on the couch.

I don’t want to stop writing, but I feel like I’m being selfish moaning about my mental health right now. My posts are outlets for me to speak about my mental health struggles. In the current climate, they aren’t justified. Therefore, it would be selfish of me to continue to complain whilst in the pandemic. I can’t write about what I don’t know and all I know at the minute is that I’m not okay, and that it’s not okay to let others know.

I don’t want to stop writing. So I will call it a pause. I will write again, when I feel I can say what I want to say without feeling self judged. When all this blows over and a new normal is established, I will see where my ego is. Until then, stay safe.

I don’t want to stop writing but;
Violet xxx