I have issues, no really

I know everyone says they have issues but I've been officially diagnosed with issues. My issues happen to be so severe that I get to take a month off work so the medication they gave me can kick in and so I don't freak out and jump off a bridge. No, really.

Yesterday I tried to go into work. Note, the tried. I got up, ate breakfast, brushed my cat (it's our morning ritual now), chilled for a bit, got dressed, and headed out. I made it to the parking lot and was parking my car when I hit the breaks, burst into tears then took off.

Where did I take off to? The cemetery where my parents are entombed. I sat with them for about two hours until I got hungry. Cemetery bathrooms are gross by the way. Anyway, I headed down to the shopping mall for food and promptly went to my doctor's office. Why? Because on my way back home I wanted to drive my car off a bridge.

Why? To be honest, I'm not entirely sure. I've always had darker thoughts and most of the time I can translate them into my writing and everything's good. It hasn't been working for a few years now but most of the time I can take a day off, cry it all out, and be done with till the next time I kind of cracked. This time, I broke. I couldn't fix it on my own.

My doctor referred me to the urgent care area in the hospital. I got to talk to an RN who specialized in mental issues about everything that's bugging me. No I'm not going to go into detail here mainly because it will reveal things about my location and my family life that I don't want to delve into for personal reasons.

The basics is I'm exceptionally unhappy with my life in general. I don't sleep well. I'm not enthused about anything (even writing) anymore. I hate my job. I hate the way my life has ended up. I hate myself. I want to go to sleep and not have to wake up to face the shit-hole that has become my life.

This is not where I wanted to be at this point in time. I had everything (or at least most of it) planned out. I had a way to get there. Then the train came off the track and I had no idea how to get it on the right path again. I still don't know how to get everything where it's supposed to go.

I think most of it comes from this cloud hanging over me, that has been hanging over me, for the better part of a decade. I don't think I'm worth it so I kind of hide out in this little corner and hang on the fringes of life. I don't want to cling to scraps anymore. I want to get out there and have a life, including marketing and publishing my novels but I don't feel like I'm good enough. I feel useless. I feel inadequate. There's no point in trying because it's not going to work anyway. I never have enough money and I'm so deep in debt I don't feel like I'll ever get back out.

So the RN got the emergency doctor to talk to me just to make sure I wasn't actually going to drive off a bridge or take a bottle of pills. I wasn't. I obviously didn't. The psychiatrist then spoke to me and prescribed me a month off work and two different kin of pills. One is a general anti-depressant/relaxant that I take every day and the other is a take-as-needed relaxant. I also got a few sheets of papers for referrals to grief counselling as well as therapists I can talk to. On Monday someone's going to be calling so they can make arrangements to come check on me through the month.

Thankfully the pills weren't too expensive because I had to pay for them out of pocket since my medical didn't kick in yet at work. Yes, even though I'm in Canada I still have to pay for my medication if I have no benefits through work. OHIP does cover some stuff but not this. Yes I do get a reduced rate (I'm sure) because I'm on a sort of benefit through the government but the pills were not free.

Anyway, I took the first one today. I know they say the pills aren't supposed to be working right away (about 3-5 weeks) but I don't feel like bursting into tears at the drop of a hat. I don't feel like ending it. I actually made a necklace today which I haven't done in months. I also felt disconnected. Kind of like I'm wasn't fully attached to my body. To be honest I think I was a little high. That feeling's gone now but man it was strong this morning. Right now I want to take a nap. And my mouth/throat has been really dry all day.

Oddly enough I feel like I could handle working. Do I want to go back? Nope. You can bet your life I'll be using at least part of this month to find a different job. The other part will be spent on novel writing, jewellery making, advertising Avalora, and reading.

I know I had a month off in January but it wasn't really a month off. I was freaking out about finding a job, worrying about training for the job I did get, and generally panicking about every little thing. Now? Eh, not so much.

Yes I'm still worried about money but it's at the back of my head. I know I have something coming to me Friday and I might not get sick leave benefits right away but I'll get something. I still have a job when I go back after a month. There are other issues and concerns which were bugging me (and still have the potential to bother me) but again: not an issue.

The concerns still need to be addressed of course but they aren't a horrifying monster that's going to bite my head off. They're more a bug I have to gather the courage to crush.

Until next time: thoughts, comments, rage, rants, questions, and out-right insults can be directed to the comments.

Fear

Fear is an interesting thing. It can make you do a lot of different things depending on the situation and who you are as a person. Fear motivates people in ways other people never expect. There's a lot of different things for different people to fear at different times. It's a complex emotion (hey, what isn't?) and as a writer I've explored it. I've studied fear in my characters and of course, I've studied it in myself.

For those of you reading this that follow my Twitter account,you'll notice that for the past two days I haven't been writing. For those of you who have no idea who I am: that's REALLY weird for me. Well, unless I've finished a project or National Novel Writing Month is over. I've not finished a project and NaNo isn't until November.

So, why did I stop writing? Am I suffering from writer's block? I don't believe in writer's block. Am I having problems with my Inner Editor? My Inner Editor is my Muse and we rarely have issues. Am I stuck in my current plot? Not really. So, again, why did I stop writing?

I'm afraid.

That's right. I'm afraid. Of what? Well, a lot of things. I'm afraid of midnight, mirrors after midnight, oh, right, writing. Sorry. I'm afraid of rejection. I'm afraid of not being good enough. I'm scared to SHIT of what I'm planning to do next month so I'm procrastinating this month.

What is it that's making me so afraid?

Well, you see, I've been an official self-published author since March 2010. Yeah, four years. I've not even come close to seeing my return on anything. I actually hate the only novel I have available right now and all my anthologies are unedited.

I'm also working as essentially an unpaid intern and have been for about the same amount of time as I've been self-published. For clarification: I've not had a paycheck in over four years. I've been surviving off lines of credit, credit cards, and inheritance. Not fun, I'll tell you that much.

What does that have to do with my fear of what's going to happen next month? Simple. At the beginning of this year I made it one of my goals to publish something. Next month, I'm going to start the beginning phases of completing that goal.

My plan is to start some kind of funding campaign (kickstarter, gofundme, gofundle, pick one dang it) and raise enough funds to edit, get a cover (if I can't make a decent one) and promote Burnt: The Story of the Fire King which is this month's novel.

If the campaign is successful (I'm planning to run it until December) then I'll have a published novel I'm proud about out into the world by early next year, depending on editing. If I use the 2K or so I hope to keep for promoting then I'll actually be able to get it into reader's hands and possibly make enough to at least pay some of my bills.

So what's the problem? Again, I'm scared shitless. Why? Because I've done the editing shtick before. I've had editors tell me that my stuff is great but seeing all those comments and red lines makes me think I'm not good enough. I see it as a kind of rejection, that I've messed up so bad that I shouldn't even bother. Granted it is grammar, wrong words, and tighter sentence structure that is meant to help (and does) but I still can't seem to get past it. I'm not sure why.

I do know for sure that I don't like to leave a goal unfinished and I've had the publishing goal on my resolutions list for years now. It's about time I give it one more try. Again: that is scaring the crap out of me. I know that as soon as I start the funding campaign and especially if it succeeds: I'm going to have to deliver. I'm going to have to get the book edited and actually CORRECT the changes then move on. I've given myself a deadline of October 10.

That deadline means I'll have the funding campaign started and I'll be promoting it like nuts. I'm hoping I don't deliberately let it fail so I don't have to see someone's professional editing.

Hell, even letting a good Twitter friend read a short story freaked me the Hell out. She tells me I'm good enough. Others have told me in the past that I'm good enough.

I don't think I am. I'm afraid I'm not. I'm afraid of being made fun of and rejected. I'm afraid of negative reviews and people not liking my work, and by extension: me.

But, I intend to overcome that fear. I owe it not just to me but to my characters and to all the people who have believed in me all these years. And quite frankly: I need to do this. If I don't I'll end up living on the street, literally because there is only so long lines of credit and what not can hold out. I'm running out of time and damn it, I like my bed.

Fear can conquer you if you let it. I'm tired of letting it hold me back.

Until next time: comments, rants, rage, questions, and concerns can be directed to the comments.