Well, it's November. Cue the short days. Cue the pressure build-up from low hanging clouds. Cue the cold. Cue wanting to curl into a ball in bed. Cue doom scrolling. Cue seasonal affective disorder. Cue depression.
It's no secret I experience depression. It's actually a high-functioning depression, so it's less noticable. I'm still able to get up early, begrudgingly, and go to work in the dead of winter. In fact, structure and routine is the best antidote for it. Mostly, it effects my mood and my sleep (I could sleep for daaaays).
But the last few years it's hit me hard in the month of November – meaning I lose a lot of motivation, basic drive, and passion for the things I love.
Today was one of those days. I didn't want to get out of bed. I was on my phone. It was 10:30AM and I hadn't eaten or taken my meds. My internal dialogue was: "What's the point of doing today?"
It actually wasn't myself who pulled me out of bed – it was the dread of my partner seeing me sleep in for the second day in a row, and worrying that she would worry about me and why I hadn't eaten yet (cue lesbian worry).
Okay, now for the meat of this post.
While I forced myself to make a smoothie and take my meds (yes, forced), I was reminded of a conversation I had with my mom a few years ago in the dead of November. I had been struggling to eat for weeks, and of course the lack of nutrition was affecting me emotionally, physcially, and spiritually. I told her how I had no appetite at all. It didn't matter what I prepared; I didn't want to eat it.
"Rachel, if you were taking care of one of your nieces or nephews, would you allow them to go without meals? Make yourself food like you would make food for Etney. Imagine you're feeding her, and just eat it. You have to eat."
It was one of those converstations that blossomed like a seed inside me. The more I thought about making Etney food with love and care – showing up for her with such a simple, basic need – the more I was able to envision my depressed self as a hungry, neglected child, and I would never never neglect one of my nieces or nephews, so why was I doing it to myself?
So I made meals. And I forced myself to eat them. Yes, forced. A loving force. And guess what? I got better. The dark, hungry days ended, and the cheer of December came along, and I'm not going to say I never got depressed again (because, damn, depression is a life-long friend), but I ate, and I nourished my body, and it thanked me. So did the depressed part of me. So did the little girl part of me.
Here's How You Can Write While Depressed:
Eat.
It seems silly to say, right? But how many of us coffee-addicted writing-nerds start our morning with a latte only to forget our hunger cues? Yes, I'm whispering, "I see you."
Sit Down. Write.
You're going to hate everything you type, because depression warps the way you view the world and everything that comes from you, but later, in a week or a month or maybe a few months, you'll look back and thank yourself for showing up. And you're probably going to love what your wrote. They'll be this raw, gaping, human quality to it.
Write Somewhere You Feel Safe, Loved, And Cozy.
Favourite corner. Favourite coffee shop where the baristas know your name and won't bat an eye at your greasy, unkept hair. With your feline friend curled at your feet, waiting for pets. Anywhere you feel at home and comfortable. I've learned creativity thrives where it's been before.
Write Cute, Loving Notes To Yourself For Future You To Read And Blush Over.
This is a game changer. I used to write scathingly rude comments to myself in the draft comments like, "WTF is this, dumb, dumb?" and "OMG, how many times have you used this word?" Which was a manifestation of my negative self-talk. A few years ago – I believe it was after a therapy session where I realized I could change my internal dialogue by speaking to myself like I would speak to a kid – I started writing comments like, "You've got this, babe!" and "This may need some work, but I'm so proud of you!" and "Come back to this later, love. There's some gold here."
Game. Changer. Try it, especially on the dark days when you've pulled yourself out of bed.
It's Okay To Take A Break.
Give yourself permission to take a break and let your manuscript breathe, especially if you start hacking it to bits. Been there. Done that. As someone who experiences depression, I've learned there are days where I have to show up or I won't write, but that's me. You know you best, and your body will tell you when you need to rest.
In Review...
It's okay to be depressed. Let's normalize SAD and depression. You've got this, babe! I believe in you. The goods days are coming.
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