I really hemmed and hawed about posting this as a blog. It isn’t 100% about writing, but my mental clarity and emotional state have everything to do with how much or how well I write. It certainly impacts my productivity.

70% of my time, I am okay. I am what anyone would consider “normal”. I have a stable level of anxiety, I am productive and get my stuff done. The other 30% of my day, I am overwhelmed. I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. No productive moment occurs during these 30%. I also feel uncontrollable amounts of emotional pain. All linked to loss, and grief.

Everyone knows that grief is a monster that rears its head whenever it wants. It can be as simple as a lucky penny, or a whiff of a familiar scent. Grief is normal and expected. It only becomes problematic when it consumes your mind and impedes your ability to get your work done.

Well it happened.

The pinnacle of all of this occurred this Fall. I was sitting in a hotel room and two friends had to intervene because my mental fortitude and stability had crashed and crashed to a place I hadn’t visited in a very long time. I felt like I was consumed by a dark hole with no way out. Everything served as a massive trigger. Sitting in a Starbucks would make me feel like I was dying. Airports, airplanes, malls, and classrooms (I teach.) were all triggers for overwhelming, soul crushing anxiety.

Yes. I saw professionals. I asked for help. But it took a lot for me to get there. Even now, I am resistant to therapy. In my day job, its what I do. So words like PTSD, anxiety, depression, cognitive dissonance, stressor, triggers…. yea…. no. How is it that a professional in the field is struggling with all of the above? (Very big pill to swallow.)

Well, I do. I haven’t found my perfect therapy person yet. Shoot, I hate that I can see what they’re trying to do. I certainly am still refusing to go to group, but I am asking for help and I am getting it. Don’t be me…. don’t be stubborn.

So what does this have to do with writing?

Well, its been a huge block in the flow of creativity. Some people do best when their “angst” level is high. I don’t. I get consumed by the angst. Now that things are simmering down to manageable levels, I am writing. I am writing warm fuzzy feelings.

And writing makes me feel good. ❤