I’ve given up on Camp this month. Hey, I won back in April, so I’ve already got the shiny banners to prove it. I’m just too depressed to concentrate on anything. I did get five stories posted this month. That’s great.
And I did write every day. My journal is full of rants, vents, and brainstorming. And I got in at least 100 words of some creative writing each day. Most of it wasn’t in anything I was supposed to be working on for camp, but with my mood, any words are a win.
This is how mental illness affects your life in ways people don’t consider. Writing is something I love to do, but the last few weeks, it’s gotten harder and harder to push words out. I’ve had to force myself several days–writing the bare minimum. Feeling like that towards writing just makes me more depressed. It’s a cycle that’s hard to break.
I may have failed camp, but I’m proud of myself for pushing through the depression to do some kind of writing every day even if it was only ranting in my journal about being depressed. A year ago, I would have given up completely and not written anything for three months. I have the spreadsheet to prove it.