High on a Downer, Again

I can't even say how much I appreciate the emails, phone calls and comments you guys have sent my way over the last couple of days. If I haven't responded to yours, I will; I've been pushing forward to hit 50K (which I did), since I knew giving up this close wasn't something I could live with, black mood or no.

It comes and goes, but I'm doing a little better - still broke, still stressed, still worried about things falling apart, but I'm clawing my way up. One of the worst things about when the bad chemicals kick in and I don't have a chance to do any kind of countermeasure is that horrible, horrible loss of perspective that comes with utter hopelessness. (And that's quite literally what it is - the sudden loss of all hope, or almost all. The possibility of things improving, when you're where even down looks up, seems like an absurdity.)

The disruption of my stable little world at work was a big blow. I'd been sticking around because my boss had plans to promote me, and the knowledge that that wasn't going to happen was a little too much shock and horror at the end of a bad year. Now it looks like I might get a little improvement there anyway, which helps a little in my not being full of must-get-outnow panic. I still feel very uncomfortable working for a system that would do what it did to him (and his worst fault seems to be not performing miracles with minimal resources, which describes forfuckssake everywhere I've ever worked); I don't like that feeling of having to wonder who the axe is being sharpened for next. But I at least feel like I can get by for a little while until something that's really right comes along. Not good, but tolerable. So it goes.

Anyway, I'm not what I'd call fine, but I can see it from here without a telescope. I'm really sorry about falling apart like this; I hate being a burden on the people that I care about, and I know how hard it can be to live with me. I don't ever want to feel like I've taken more from my friends than I've given back, and I don't want the price of loving me to be a cheering-up session two or three times a year. So thank you; I don't deserve it, but I don't know what I'd do without it.

Spiralling

Note to New Readers: I'm leaving this one up for archival purposes, and as a reminder that living with my Condition occasionally makes me irrational and strange; but it's not, um, representative of my normal posting habits. I swear I'm a Serious Blogger, really, and not some angsty 13-year-old with a LiveJournal. ;) -DLK

I'm three thousand odd words from goal and having the hardest time I've ever had getting there.

I can't remember the last time I was this depressed. It feels like I've been so far down for so long I don't even know how to get back there from here. Which is why I can't sleep now, though I'm so tired I barely feel alive.

It's been a truly dreadful year in many ways. I keep wondering where it was I made the fatal error that's put me here, and I've now lost count of the number of breakdowns I've had today while thinking about it. I'm looking at being a month behind on my mortgage for the foreseeable future, my job just took a turn for the abyssmal (the best manager I've ever worked for just became a victim of beaurocracy in a really ugly way), and I look at my prospects and start to think I've turned into a particularly useless waste of space.

I'm sorry, everyone. I'm sorry I didn't turn out to be a better person; I'm sorry about whatever chance it was I blew that made it so hard for me to get my act together now. I'm sorry I have this awful disease that I can't afford to treat that makes it so difficult to be close to me. I'm sorry I can't get Christmas presents for the people I love.

I'm sorry about all this. I told Stacy, when I hit what felt like bottom tonight, that I'm so tired of this stupid world. I'm sorry I'm not making it any better. It feels like it broke me at last.

Bird by Bird

Happy Thanksgiving to all and sundry; and today, a feast of words, with a fresh new update on Otherwood. (Some of you have already noted that the previous section went up unannounced over the weekend, but in case you hadn't, there's that too.)

My word count's more than doubled since my last recounting it here, which still puts me in crunch for the next week, but so it goes. I'm off to improve upon that right now.

In the meantime, much bounty and good wishes to all of you, near and far; and I'll raise a glass to you by and by. Cheers!

Clothed All in Green-O

Part 2 is now on the novel site, as I charge into the weekend proper with 16,526 words down. Footnotes to come as I get further along in the text itself. (There's more written now than is currently posted, but I figured that was a good stopping point.)

And y'all who have been so kind and supportive about the work so far: I point out, once again, that comments are enabled over there. Humor a neurotic writer and set it down for the sake of posterity.

And with that, I'm back to't.

Have Wood, Need Sheep

Day six, and I stand at a respectable 10,445 words, so that's a week well spent.

This means there is now text up at the Otherwood site, in all its imperfect glory, for your perusal and commentary, should you be so inclined. It's been a lot of fun so far, and more so because I had a couple of surprise volunteers for the cast this time around. (As I remarked to Stacy a couple of days ago, it may be a relief to some of you to learn that I actually can write a genuine girly-girl; of course, I could only make it work by making her a guy, so that's probably a draw.)

In other creative news, I neglected to mention last time that the Music link in my sidebar yonder will now take you to an actual webpage, where you can read me nattering on about the various downloadable songs and stuff. Huzzah for navel-gazing wank.

Speaking of which, back to the fappery now in progress. Onward!