I have been meaning to write here. Honest. It's just hard to keep my personal life separate from my writing life, and sometimes I have to just take a few months and really kind of just not be on here. Life happens. Honestly, nothing terrible, just some big life changes coming up.
When one thinks to start a family, it does things to oneself. Or me. Yeah, me. The husband and I are going to start trying to have children this summer. This is a HUGE thing in general, and a huge thing for my writing. Lately, I have been wondering why I write what I do. I can't get anyone to do my work and I am languishing. It's hard to see my lovely friends getting places I wish I could. If I could just go to grad school, I could get there--but then again, there's no thinking that I will get there any faster with grad school--I might just get there with a bigger debt hanging on my back.
I am just struggling with my work, and feeling like a failure isn't helping much. I suffer from depression and while I am medicated, it doesn't erase my emotions. It makes them manageable. And sometimes they aren't manageable.
So when I'm blocked, it gets worse because I wonder why I even write. It's not like my work has any greater meaning than what it is. I'm not writing politically charged pieces that make people thing. I don't write about things that matter in the end. Sometimes my work is just fluff, and I'm fine with that. I just wish I could get something done somewhere!
It's just tough sometimes.