When You’re Not Okay: A Mental Health Checkup for Writers
By Kim Bullock | April 11, 2018 |
Flickr Creative Commons: darkday
I ignored the signs for months, convinced the anxiety, crying jags, insomnia, and moments of rage were hormonal potholes on Perimenopause Lane.
In my defense, life has thrown a few curveballs since December. Before I could send out queries on my newly completed manuscript, I came down with the flu. On Christmas Eve. This illness transitioned into a violent asthmatic/allergic cough that remained until mid-March. I lost fifteen pounds (good) but only because I could barely eat or sleep (bad). During this time one of my daughters was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. A few weeks later her best friend received a lymphoma diagnosis. An elderly aunt and special needs cousin moved to Dallas and their new home required a major face-lift. I threw myself into helping them, trying to ignore the lack of response to my initial queries. I later discovered those same queries, unwisely proofread and sent between coughing bouts, contained a glaring typo in the second paragraph.
The ‘I am a complete failure’ refrain began and spread its venom into all aspects of my life until I questioned every decision I’ve ever made. After decades of writing and little published work to show for it, I must be a talentless hack. My daughter would not struggle so much if I’d recognized earlier how crippling her condition had become. My marriage of twenty years would be richer if I’d encouraged my husband’s full involvement and support with the children rather than letting him play computer games while I juggled everything on my own. (To be fair, he involves himself when asked.)
The only glimmer of happiness came when my other daughter discovered that her crush not only liked her back, but that he embodied the word “gentleman” and came from a family who welcomed her into their fold with open arms. Being a romantic, empathic by nature, and teetering on the brink of depression, the temptation to vicariously experience her joy proved irresistible. This high doubled when I saw the adoring expression he perpetually wore in her presence, though over time this feeling was accompanied by a sharp pang of motherly protectiveness. (For him!)
Perhaps I sensed that it was only a matter of time before she’d bristle when teachers referred to her not by name but as the girlfriend of a popular kid, before she’d decide she was too young to be with a boy who claimed (quite earnestly) that he hoped she’d be both his first and last girlfriend. When that day came and she let him go, I struggled to praise her self-awareness and maturity.
It was at that moment I realized I was not okay.
I’m in a place where many creative types find themselves at some point. According to a large-scale Swedish study at the Karolinska Instituet, families with histories of bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, depression, anxiety syndrome, drug and alcohol abuse, ADHD, anorexia and suicide are more likely to include people in creative or scientific professions. The study concluded that writers in particular were common among sufferers of schizophrenia, depression, anxiety and substance abuse, and were almost fifty percent more likely to commit suicide than the general population.
These statistics are frightening, and they are also a reason that communities such as Writer Unboxed are a lifeline for those who might otherwise suffer in isolation. A community can only do so much, though, especially one with members spread all over the world. It is up to us as individuals to do all we can to monitor our mental health as vigilantly as our physical health.
Bad Days vs. Big Problem
We all have days when we feel low or trapped in anxiety’s web, days when we lack the focus to make coffee, let alone put quality words down on a page. If those days turn into weeks, though, especially if there is no obvious reason behind it, it’s time to pay attention. If negative thoughts have only been prevalent for a few weeks, it may be possible to force a mental shift without professional intervention. Recognizing the problem early may prevent it from worsening.
Are You Sleeping?
Brains can’t function properly without time to recharge. If your sleep pattern or quality has changed, this may be feeding mental or emotional instability.
Are You Eating?
Skipping meals? Eating on the run? Hitting the drive-thru more than usual? This may be taking a toll on more than your waistline.
Are You Exercising?
We all know we should…
Are You Writing?
Writing, for many of us, is a compulsion. A way to speak our truths, confess our secrets, escape into a world we’ve created, a world we control. When words refuse to come, when fear and self-doubt prevent us from opening our manuscripts, we are silenced in a way non-writers could never understand. Since we’ve done it to ourselves, we wrestle with frustration, rage, even shame. If the drought persists long enough, we question our identity, our purpose. This can be a recipe for disaster.
Has Something Traumatic Happened Involving Your Writing?
Did your agent tell you that book of your heart isn’t marketable? Did a contract fall through? Did you receive a cutting rejection? Were your sales poor? Did you read and internalize all those bad reviews?
Are You in a Transitional Stage of Life?
If so, you are especially vulnerable. Post-partum depression, divorce, death of a loved one, sending the last child off to college – all can send people into a tailspin. Men do not have the exclusive on mid-life crises. Perimenopause is no joke and it can last a decade. It may be worth having hormone levels checked, even if you think you’re “far too young for that.”
Do You Have a History?
If you have suffered from depression or anxiety before, you will be more prone to a relapse. More serious conditions such as bipolar disorder or schizophrenia run in families and require continuous medication. Dosages may need adjustment over time.
Do You Need Outside Help?
For more serious situations, the obvious answer is yes. In some cases medication can make the difference between living a full life and barely functioning. If you sense something is wrong or if those around you express concern and urge you to seek help, chances are good you have reached the point where self-care may not be enough. Visit your medical doctor or seek the help of a mental health professional. Some employers offer employee assistance programs that offer a number of no or low cost sessions to get you started on the path to recovery.
Getting help is a sign of strength, not weakness. You are worth it.
What things do you require to maintain a sense of calm and balance in your life? What things throw a wrench in this? What role does writing play in your wellbeing? If you have experienced a breakdown, what has helped you to move forward in your life? (Share only to your comfort level, of course.)
[coffee]
Kim (she/her) has an M.A. in English from Iowa State University. She writes mainly historical fiction, though has also contributed non-fiction articles to historical and Arts and Crafts publications in both the United States and Canada. She has just finished The Oak Lovers, a novel based on the rather colorful life of her great-grandfather, landscape painter Carl Ahrens.
Bless you, Kim. Thank you for sharing this … you are amazing. ❤️❤️❤️
Thank you, Sarah. Right back at you!
First off, Kim, though I know you already know it, I want to reassure you that you are not alone. And that I am always here for you, if only for an ear to vent into or a shoulder to lean on. I say this obvious thing because when I start closing my own cage door, or beating myself up, or convincing myself that things are hopeless, I find a lot of solace and positiviity in knowing the rest of you (my writerly family) are out there. And reaching out to y’all never fails to lift my spirits some, even if it’s only from a single dark moment. In other words, you repeatedly restore my hope. For me, that’s priceless. Hopefully I can return the favor. Often.
And here’s another one that you already know, but if you’re anything like me, you need to hear it again and again. It’s critical to keep writing. Damn, as sick as I’ve grown of it, Dory’s mantra is so vital. “Just keep swimming.” I’ve been in such a better place since I actually immersed in a new WIP. For me, it’s the only real way to let go of the outcome (for the previous manuscript). Not that it doesn’t take diligence to *remain* immersed. It does! And I totally get that it’s not a panacea. But I’d be lost without the writerly momentum.
So now that I’ve repeated the obvious, please accept my virtual hugs, as a form of penance if nothing else. Thanks for your courage and for keeping it real, my friend.
This is exactly why I consider you the big brother I never had, Vaughn.
I will gladly accept those virtual hugs. The entire time I wrote this post (which is the first thing I’ve written in months) I questioned if I was doing the right thing. Would it sound whiny? Too much about me? Not related to writing enough? What I’m experiencing is nothing compared to what some of my relatives are going through or what some members of this community go through.
Sometimes the obvious needs to be stated and heard. I know I need to send off more queries and then open the manuscript I had started between rewrites.
I am blessed to have such wonderful friends. I just wish the vast majority of you didn’t live so damn far away!
You absolutely did the right thing. I’m going to guess that writing this will have been a linchpin, to more writing and to more inner peace. Isn’t that always the way? The stuff we dread and question and struggle over turns into not just the stuff we absolutely need to write, but the stuff others need to hear.
Back at ya on the wish that we lived closer, Kim! Thank goodness we’re just a send button away, though.
I must say that seeing the post is resonating with people is helping quite a bit this morning. Not only makes me feel much less alone, but also that my words might inspire others to reach out for help if they need it.
I loved what you wrote and was shocked (although maybe not surprised) to learn that writers were fifty percent more likely to commit suicide. You are a strong, brave soul who deserves better than what life has served you lately.
The thing that REALLY kills is that writers, as self-employed independent contractor types, rarely have insurance. That means NO help. No therapy. And perhaps more importantly no one to talk to who really understands what it’s like to navigate the shark tank of working with the major publishers.
In the end, the only thing that’s saved me are other writers. Ones I trust. Community is everything. Every writer must find one.
That statistic startled me, too, Stacy, though it probably shouldn’t. Most of the writers I know are “deep feelers” and keen observers, and the world at this point in history has many toxic elements.
Unlike many full time writers, I’m lucky to have decent insurance through my husband’s job. One phone call and I was approved for eight free sessions with the same (very good) counselor my daughter uses. After that there will be a cost, but therapists on this plan have a cap on how much they can charge. It would be so much harder to dig myself out of this hole if I didn’t have someone outside of family to talk to. If only she was a writer, too…
I agree, community is everything. This community, and the wonderful friends I’ve met through it, have long been a lifeline. I’m glad you have this support, too.
You hang in there. And just remember–you are NOT ALONE. Your article sparked a lot of recognition in all of us. We really are in this thing together. And I believe we have to be.
You got to thinking if I knew any writers–published, unpublished or newly published–who were “happy” in any traditional sense of the word. I couldn’t think of one. Why is that?
Writers work in solitude. Writers can toil in obscurity for a lifetime. Writers are ritually sodomized by their profits-only publishers. Writers are angry. And writers have little recourse to redress their grievances.
What we have (which seals our doom, I suspect) is the sick, sad compulsion to write. We’re going to write no matter how bad it gets. Trying to not be a writer when you are one is like conversion therapy to the gay: impossible.
It sounds bleak, I know. But after four books written over eighteen months, deadlines met and publicity goals completed, I just received my first royalty check. Know what it was for? $350.00. And I’m an award-winning writer. That means I made less than fifty cents an hour. Garment workers in Malaysia make more money than I do. If that’s not enough to make a writer sound bleak, what will?
We certainly aren’t in it for the money, are we? Ugh!
I definitely don’t feel alone right now. The response has been amazing.
Somewhat disturbingly, the study (being Swedish) looked at people who live in a country where healthcare is not dependent upon insurance.
On the other hand, they also live in a country with those looong winter nights, which probably exacerbate the writerly tendency to lurk in a dark cave and seldom go out. Which reminds me: sunshine is a great thing for mental health, even if you have to get it from a lamp.
Kim, what a brave column. What an honest column. We all know writing is a solitary sport. If we don’t have and enjoy a vibrant support network, negativity and poor health can creep up. You’ve done many writers a real service today. Thank you.
Thank you for that, Betsy. I agree completely about the support network!
An excellent column that really resonated for me. Thank you, Kim, and all the best to you.
Thank you, Juliet!
Thank you for talking about this Kim!! It takes courage to discuss mental health, and yet it’s the most important thing to talk about. I believe therapy should be mandatory (and free!) for all humans because life is complicated, to say the least. In the past six years, my relatively-quiet life went ass-over-tea-kettle with big life events, while I was working thru my WIP with an editor and a weekly deadline. That deadline became my lifeline, and I learned the hard way that the all things you listed, good sleep, eating well, and getting exercise, are VITAL. I have a long-standing yoga practice that has truly saved my life. That little space on the mat has become my safe-place. So has this unique and amazing space called Writer Unboxed, which is to say, all you fine people. Knowing I’m not alone when it gets dark, hard, crazy and terrifying, has been a source of strength for me. The emotional honesty I find here humbles and instructs me. I’m currently re-reading ‘the Road Less Traveled’ by Scott Peck, and it’s astonishing how powerful and helpful this book is. The other lifeline book for me is by Pema Chodron, called “When things Fall Apart’. The title popped into my head a few years ago when things felt like they were crumbling. Many times a day, I remind myself to breathe. Again, thank you for your powerful offering today. Sending you hugs.
My daughter would agree with you, Susan. She believes that EVERYONE would benefit from therapy. If only it were free! I shudder to think how many people need and want help, but can’t afford the cost.
Making sleep a priority has done the most to help stop the racing thoughts. Some nights I succeed more than others. It’s hard to shut of the mantra of worries that start overtaking my mind the moment my head hits the pillow. I need to try yoga. I’m sure it would help.
I will have to check out those books you mentioned since I haven’t read either. Thank you for mentioning them and I’ll take all the virtual hugs I can get right now.
The racing thoughts are a tough one. Two things I’ve found that help. Breathing techniques that you can learn from a good yoga instructor (pranayama) and a mediation practice. Even 5 minute of sitting and breathing can begin to quiet the whirlies. And it’s been my experience that results come quickly. xo
Oh, Kim, I know that tailspin and can commiserate. Last year I was anxious and went to bed every night wondering if I would wake up the next morning or if I would die in my sleep from a heart attack. A bit dramatic, but whenever I read about someone my age or younger dying from some ailment, I was convinced I was on the Grim Reaper’s list. Hypochondria ruled in my house and I had strict orders from my doctor and therapist to not check with Dr. Google. For me, the anxiety was part of the anger and resentment of an unhealthy relationship. After years of bottling up the stress, the cork finally popped.
I’m okay now, but there were consequences: I didn’t write for almost a year and I lost work opportunities. Not a great situation for a person who earns her living from writing.
Thankfully, I didn’t need medication. Meditation has helped and getting out to meet new people. As much as I love my reclusive ways, I discovered it wasn’t helping me get better. I needed to build a community, get out and socialize with my own species instead of dogs.
Thank you for this essay. It’s one all writers should read, and a big hug from Vermont.
Oh, I hear you about the hypochondria, Rebeca, though in my case it makes me terrified to go to the doctor. About a decade ago I developed unexplained tachycardia and the process of trying to get a diagnosis for that scared me half to death. While I’ve been assured it is a minor electrical glitch that won’t harm me, it’s awful to have my pulse/blood pressure taken and I avoid it whenever I can.
My daughter’s friend’s lymphoma diagnosis made my anxiety spike in the worst way, even though it is stage II with an excellent prognosis. Ever since I was a small child and saw the horrible effects of bone cancer on my grandmother, the word ‘cancer’ has been a trigger for me. She died of it. My other grandmother died of ovarian cancer (a random form, not one that passes down.) An aunt died of colon cancer. A high school friend died of melanoma at 38. Another survived lymphoma at 39.
Dr. Google can be awful.
I have always avoided medication and am sure I’ll be able to get through this, which is quite likely a garden-variety mid-life crisis, by talking it out. I do take CBD oil, which helps take the edge off. I’ve seen what anti-depressants have done to a couple of people I love, and that makes me wary of them. Sometimes that is the best thing – there is a time and place for them – but I would want to be certain I was at that point before reading for them.
I’m so glad to hear that you’ve pulled through the worst of your situation. I know it was rough for a long time there, and with good reason. Hugs to you!
“When words refuse to come, (…) we are silenced in a way non-writers could never understand.”
Oh yes.
Soooooo yes.
My uncle has schizophrenia and I’ve been told my great-grand-mother “heard voices”. For decades, I hid the fact that I “talked” to people in my head, that I lost track of time living in some parallel made-up world. I feel EVERYTHING and could easily be labeled “hypersensitive”. Since fairly recent hardships, I’ve learned that I’m not crazy, I might just be a writer. ;)
Writing gets it out in the open, it helps me sort it all out, but when the words don’t come, I’m like The (Wo)Man in the Iron Mask. A prisoner in my own head.
Nature is the bestest self-help.
Taking time to write 3-5 things I’m grateful for (be it how great the crema on my latte was this morning or how smart and sensitive my daughters are) always helps a lot. Sharing my worries with the best listeners (NOT advice givers) and taking a step back from wanting/needing/having to do everything all the time in every sphere of life kinda helps too.
Thank you, a wonderful reminder to be kind to yourself. Everyday.
Veronic,
My lack of ability to write lately has been awful. You summed it up perfectly with “a prisoner within my own head.” My head is not a fun place to be right now!
Planning a vacation up north this summer, where I can commune with trees and sit beside Georgian Bay, my soul’s home, is helping me see the light at the end of this long, dark tunnel.
Schizophenia runs in my family, too. An aunt had it, and so do a couple of cousins. I lucked out on that one, and I’m not bipolar either. This is, I believe, a garden-variety midlife crisis. Not fun.
Thank you for chiming in. I’ll have to try writing out what I’m grateful for.
Garden-variety midlife crisis.
You know I’m a florist, right?
I’m borrowing that one for sure, thank you!
Terrific post, Kim. I can’t tell you how much I needed to read it. <3
Thank you for commenting, Angela. So glad it helped!
I cried as I read your post because I am right there, in the same place. I haven’t been able to write for several months now and as much as I can blame outside forces (divorce, my daughter’s medical condition, working two jobs and grad school), it’s me that can’t bring myself to the page. I struggle with depression and sometimes it overwhelms me. While I have friends so willing to help, I’m the one who has to see the light in all the darkness. It helps to know I’m not alone and others experience the same thing. I don’t usually comment on blog posts, but you touched a nerve.
Michele,
Sending you a big virtual hug! That sounds like a lot of hardships to juggle at one time, and I hope that the comments on this post will help you see that you are absolutely not alone. So many wonderful people here empathize and are always there to reach a hand out to help, even if it just means listening or offering a shoulder to cry on.
I hope you are sleeping okay. For me, the lack of that was my quickest path into Anxiety World.
I come from a family that on one side suffers from bipolar disorder and on the other lives by the unspoken mantra that “you do your crying alone.” Pair that with the tendency to compare my “silly, first world” woes with “actual problems” all over the earth, and it’s easy to downplay one’s own emotional turmoil. It’s hard to make myself reach out to others for support. Who am I to be unhappy or overwhelmed? My life is so easy.
One of the things that has helped me through rough patches, though I may only see it in hindsight, is journaling. I find that I don’t write in it much when I’m feeling good and the work is good and life is good. But when I’m anxious or depressed, it gets more love. Writing in a journal makes me feel like I’m sharing my burdens with someone else without actually burdening anyone else (or risking their judgment about my soul-bearing).
I’ll definitely have to burn that thing at some point.
Erin,
One side of my family includes several people with bipolar. Great-grandmother, grandfather, an aunt, and a cousin. The cousin has Bipolar 2. I believe the rest had Bipolar 1. The other side of my family includes at least three people with schizophenia. I feel lucky that all I deal with is anxiety and now perhaps a mid-life crisis. Not that this isn’t crippling enough, but it is a lot easier to manage.
I can’t imagine being in a “do your crying alone” family. I don’t think I’d have survived that.
You have every right to feel unhappy or overwhelmed, no matter how “easy” your life is. My life is far easier than most, too. I am able to write full-time because my husband earns enough to support us. I can afford to get help. I have two good kids. My parents are alive, healthy, and live nearby. Other than for the racing brain, I’m healthy. Yet I’m overwhelmed and at times very unhappy. Feelings are feelings; we don’t always have control over which ones show up. All we can do is try to react to them in the healthiest way possible. That’s not always easy.
Journaling would probably be very helpful, but I always have this fear that someone is going to read it. I’ve had multiple betrayals of trust like that in the past. I might have to write in it and then hide it or, as you suggest, burn it.
I cried when I read your post. Everything, all of it, from the cancelled contract, perpetual poor book sales, the heartache of one child winning every academic award and perk out there while my other equally-brilliant child can’t even find a crappy retail job and has been diagnosed with late-onset Tourette’s is me. I’m in the midst of trying to restart my career, trying a new genre, feeling hopeful one day, lost the next. And don’t get me started on sleeplessness and hot flashes! Ugh! My mother had undiagnosed bi-polar disorder, and always made me feel I wasn’t quite good enough or bright enough or pretty enough to succeed at anything. She even told me to break off my engagement because I could never be a good enough wife. Terrified of depression medication, can’t afford talk therapy, so I do my best to suck it up and just fake it. I do my best to offer all the gung-ho, happy, perky support I can to other writers, and I try to live my own advice and tell myself it will get better, that it must. Hope it’s better for you as well, Kim! Writers are such solitary creatures, and we tend to suffer in silence and isolation, and yet we’re some of the only ones who understand all this. I’m so bad at reaching out, but I hope others who need support are better at it.
Lecia,
First of all, hugs to you.
Second, I relate to so much of what you say here. One of my children, while model-beautiful and gifted, has always had a struggle. Irregularities in her bone structure forced her to give up being in a dance company and have left her in pain much of the time. She lacks confidence in her intellectual ability (which is vast) and suffers from crippling generalized anxiety. She is petrified of the idea of dating, but desperately wants to have a family and children later. She has no idea what she wants to do in college, let alone life. The other daughter is Mensa-smart, also beautiful, draws boys to her like a magnet, never even has to try in school, and catches onto many things quickly.
Your mother sounds like a toxic individual to be around. I am so sorry you had to grow up dealing with that. No child should have to.
I hear you about medication. I’ve had a couple of people close to me take it and seeing what it has done to them makes me leery. If I got to a point where I actually feared for my life, I might see the benefit. Some places do offer a sliding scale for payment for talk therapy. It might be worth looking into. Faking it is so exhausting! Try to keep up the faith. Reading some of the comments on this post will prove to you that you are far from alone.
Brava! Thank you for this post discussing writers’ statistically higher vulnerability to mental health issues, and yes, suicide. We can argue that it’s the not-surprising downside of heightened sensitivity, imagination, and creativity which are otherwise so valuable. Your emphasis on the importance of self-care is ideal. Here’s a link to info on the Swedish study https://ki.se/en/news/link-between-creativity-and-mental-illness-confirmed
Unfortunately, the stigma that still surrounds mental illness increases suffering (and death) significantly. More articles like yours–frank, helpful, matter-of-fact discussions of something that affects so many of us at one time or another, directly or indirectly, will help mental health become just another aspect of everyone’s overall well-being vs. something kept in the shadows.
Ann,
Thank you for the link. I meant to put that in the post, and now have, so people can read the study for themselves and know I wasn’t pulling that statistic out of thin air!
I agree that the only way to help reduce the stigma of mental illness is if more people speak up about their experiences, what made them fall into the pit of despair, and what helped them climb out again. So many people suffer in silence, and it’s both unnecessary and tragic. I’m actually a firm believer that EVERYONE could benefit from therapy.
Thank you so much for this post.
The cliche of a tortured artist producing masterpieces is perhaps true for some people, but I am not one of them. Depression (I have bipolar disorder) does not bring me inspiration. It brings despair, bleakness, and the feeling of emptiness. It brings hours of staring into space, while my internal critic has a field day whipping me with absolutes – you are the worst, the stupidest, the most useless, etc. When I am in this space, I don’t write (or do much else). And this adds to the depression, because it reinforces the thought that I am truly useless.
On the other hand…
There is strong correlation between bipolar and creativity. (And between bipolar and substance abuse, and bipolar and suicidal attempts…) But it hasn’t been proven so far which direction the causation goes. Are writers more often suicidal, or do more people who experience those extremely strong emotions need to express them in writing?
I am grateful for the “good” parts of my illness, and wouldn’t ever want to give them up. I am not grateful for the scars, emotional, mental, and physical. They shaped me, for better (some days) or worse (other days). But I don’t get to cherry-pick. I struggle with this very often, sometimes daily. There is never a timeline of when I am going to get better or worse again. A bipolar joke – good news: everything ends; bad news: everything ends.
Sending love and spoons* to all those who need them. Right now I’m in a good place. Tomorrow I might need those spoons back.
* If you don’t get the reference, look up “spoon theory”. It’s worth reading about.
Bjørn, thank you for sharing your spoons, as Kim has shared hers. [For those interested in Spoon theory: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spoon_theory ]
Bjorn,
Thank you for your matter-of-fact honesty and insight into what it is like to be bipolar. I have at least four relatives on my mother’s side who are, one of whom I spent quite a bit of time with before she was diagnosed. Back then she was highly creative – a poet and singer. After diagnosis and while going through the process of finding the right dosage for her medication, she lost all of that side of her and became all logic all the time. It was a struggle for sure, and I’m certain this may be one of the main reasons why creative people may be hesitant to seek help. I know I am certainly leery of taking anything that will dull my emotions, but I would if I felt low enough.
You are brave to share so openly. This is a good, kind group though, and you’ll get nothing but love and support from us.
I’ll check out spoon theory!
A great, heartfelt post, Kim, and one that is clearly striking a nerve.
In addition to the important messages you’ve shared, I want to suggest that as writers, we should take care of ourselves first – the book can wait.
It’s easy to let the obligation we feel to write become just one *more* thing to feel inadequate about, which can only make matters worse.
Sometimes, we need to cut ourselves a break. It’s okay to not be writing, particularly if we’ve got bigger fish to fry – whether it be emotionally, physically or psychologically.
Good luck to you, and to all of us – I suspect that none of us has an easy path to follow.
Keith, you’re so right…”the book can wait.” My income is not dependent on my books and I act as if there’s some crisis and this attitude doesn’t help the writing and makes me feel depressed and inadequate. It’s not a person or child in some desperate situation, it’s a book…no matter how real the characters and their world is to us. WE are the place from where the book comes and we have to take care of other things first sometimes…and, it’s not a crisis! Loved your comment.
Keith,
That is a very good point. The book can wait. Several months ago I opened the already first chapter of my next WIP and thought it was good, especially for a rough draft. If I were to do so in my current state of mind, I might have the urge to break my computer or at the very least delete the whole file. Once my mind is in a better place, I’ll see things more clearly.
I suspect you are right about none of us having an easy path to follow. We are all battling our own demons. At least in this group we can all agree that the demons exist and many of us are willing to lend a sword or a shoulder to cry on.
Thank you for your comment and advice to set the writing aside if need be.
Kim, thank you for your raw and honest post, and for your excellent advice. It’s the gift of the hole, isn’t it? As you’re there, and climbing out of it, you can more easily describe not only the descent–and warn others about it–but map out the footholds that help you back out again.
Wishing you strength and perseverance as you climb. There are a hundred hands here for you. xo
I know your hand has been reaching out for months, Therese. <3 Thank you for listening to me rant and whine.
Thank you for sharing, and for your bravery in doing so. I dearly hope the path to recovery continues for you and your family. I’m a member of several high-risk groups and just thinking about that feels a bit like doom. I unfortunately cannot take medication. Close to a dozen have been tried and every one produced side effects scarier than depression, including the last that helped put me in the hospital for a month. A good fit with a therapist is invaluable. I had one for years who was excellent (I credit him with saving my life). On the other hand, I then moved and the next one I tried, as far as I’m concerned, should lose her license. My go-to is walking, especially because it also helps me sleep. I’m thankful spring is sprouting (at least where I am).
Christina,
For me the first step was admitting there was a real problem. I’ve been in therapy at various times of my life, so I had no hesitation in making the call to start again. Even taking that step calmed things down enough to where I could examine ways my habits and routines may be contributing to the downward spiral. Getting more sleep was an obvious need, and I no longer hesitate to go back to bed after making sure my younger daughter is set for her day.
I am extremely sensitive to medication, and have always been hesitant to go that route. Thankfully I’ve always been able to work through a crisis with talk therapy and a conscious shift in thought patterns. I have found that CBD oil (it’s legal – no THC in it) helps with the anxiety when it gets bad. It makes me calm, yet focused, and I’ve never experienced any other side effects.
A good therapist is everything. The bad ones on the other hand…I’ve had one or two of those.
Hi, Kim:
This is the kind of post that makes me wish we could take a walk together, hopefully in a place one of us loves and likes to share. Or perform some other simple, enjoyable task — prepare a meal, for example. Sometimes simplicity is a balm, especially in a context of connection.
Whenever I have felt the ground giving way beneath me, I have always managed to regain my balance by thinking of someone other than myself. When my wife died, caring for our dogs literally saved me. And this echoes something Keith said above: caring for ourselves comes before the writing. But sometimes caring for ourselves extends to caring for those we love. And perhaps even more importantly, allowing those who love us to care in return. Writing can be so solitary, so demanding, that we can jeopardize that simple link to those who might save us. But sometimes even that connection fails to turn the trick — and yes, that’s when real help is called for.
Your candor here is in itself a form of reaching out. Thank you for that.
David,
Your comment had me in tears (in a good way.) I wish we could take that walk along the shore of Georgian Bay in Ontario. There’s nothing like that prevailing wind slapping me in the face to erase all negative thoughts. That is the place where worries vanish and I can just simply exist.
This part especially got to me: “Sometimes caring for ourselves extends to caring for those we love. And perhaps even more importantly, allowing those who love us to care in return.”
I am conditioned to be the caretaker, to put myself last, and that is a habit I absolutely must end. Even my children say this!
I can’t imagine the pain of losing a spouse. Or a child. Thank goodness for those dogs! Sending a virtual hug your way.
Kim, I loved this post. It really calmed me down. First of all, you can always call me and we’ll talk. We create our books and we sometimes can’t get away from them enough to realize they are not us. Anyway you may still have my number; if not ask and I’ll send it!
I think when we are overwhelmed with other stuff (I think depression is an outcomes of helpless overwhelm) AND at the same time we demand we write or have some great publishing outcome, it is just too much! Maybe when we’re down, fifteen minutes of notes on the book is enough! Creativity and marketing that creativity can be enriching (well, not the marketing part so far for me!) or draining….we have to be sensitive to where we are. We are not asking ourselves to wash dishes; we are asking ourselves to go into the deepest core of our being and rearrange and invent tens of thousands of scenes, conversation, conflict into a neatly flowing book that speaks to others. At times sewing on a button is the most calming thing to do. Books are huge…we can’t always deal with them.
A picture of Belvedere Fountain is very calming for me…I remember your experiences of being there and mine are the same. I think of it. Sending love!
Stephanie,
I definitely still have your number!
Anxiety is my typical demon. The last time I battled depression was as a teenager and the experience scarred me so badly that I swore I’d never let myself get that low again. Hence the reason I am getting help before it even gets close to that.
I’m getting more sleep now and taking the CBD oil as needed. This alone has helped me a lot. It may be a bit before I’m in the right head space to write, though. It’s just going to have to be okay.
I had massive panic attacks when I was trying to get published and then after when I was writing books and working full time. I had long attacks of tachycardia (hours) until a wise therapist put me on Ativan. Yoga helped me stabilize. Thanks for your bravery in writing this article! I am rooting for you!!
Kim, strong post. I’ve had a dance with depression since adolescence, though a danse macabre, never a frolic. When the black dog arrives, it’s as though there’s less air in the room, the shades drawn, a smothering. Lucky for me it’s never gone to the clinical stage, and I’ve had good people around to bounce off.
With lots of exercise, meditation and good sleep (and occasional bourbon), things are generally better, but it doesn’t take much—like my reaction to the indifferent reaction to my published fiction—to darken the room. But as Vaughn said, “just keep swimming,” and look toward the light.
Take care.
Tom,
Yes, that’s a perfect description of how this has felt – as though there is less air in the room. Add the racing thoughts, and it has been a barrel of fun. Having been down this road before, I can at least recognize the problem before it gets to the point where I’m in any danger.
I hear you about indifferent reactions. That is so tough when a book is close to your heart.
We all need to just keep swimming…
Love to you, Kim, and kudos on such a brave post. Like Vaughn, I wish we lived closer. I’m glad you are getting help and, like you, I believe therapy should be free and easily available.
Love to all the others reading and identifying with this too. We see you in the comments, and you aren’t alone.
I so, so wish we lived closer, Liz! So many of the people I connect the most with live so damn far away. As you know, I don’t exactly feel at home where I live.
Can’t wait to come north with the family this summer. I’m sure I’ll breathe a big sigh of relief when I cross the border!
Thank you for sharing such an honest, heart-felt story. As you know from all the comments, you are not alone. I have been there too a few times. (By the way, although I live in TX now, I was an Iowa author most of my life. We lived in Story City, and one of my daughters also graduated from Iowa State.) Wish I had known you when I lived there!
That’s funny, Kristi – I have lived in Dallas since grad school. Moved here in 1997. As a former Mainer, I feel a little out of place here! Where in Texas are you?
Thank you so much for commenting!
Thank you, Kim, for your courage. 😊
I’m currently being there, doing that – and have been for about 2 ½ years. What triggered it all for me was an editor to whom my publisher handed my already professionally edited book, and she proceeded to rewrite it. Not edit it, rewrite it. And at first no one believed me when I told them what was going on. The rewriting and the lack of support nearly wiped me out.
There have been other crises, including deaths, in the meantime that (like for you) heaped more weight on the issues. I started counselling about a year ago and it is helping a lot.
I’m glad the responses here are supportive. There have been groups and places where all I’ve received has been, “Quit making excuses.” when what I needed was encouraging words and someone tossing a live preserver my way.
May God bless you and your family as you begin your journey toward healing. I’ll be praying for you and cheering you on! ❤️
Pearl,
That is absolutely terrible what your publisher did! That would put anyone into a tailspin.
It’s also terrible that you have had such lack of support from other groups. One of the many things I adore about Writer Unboxed is that the community is so warm and encouraging. If you ever get the change to attend one of the UnConferences, you would probably walk away without about ninety cheerleaders. I’ve been to both that have been held so far, and they have been life-altering to say the least.
I’m not okay yet, but I will be.
Aw, Kim, I’m so sorry for the numerous difficulties you’ve been facing. I said a prayer immediately and included the community here because roughly half the people are suffering (I didn’t realize it’d be that high). I have chronic migraines and you won’t believe how much does not get done in my life. Over the years I’ve learned to let go. And there’s so much freedom in acceptance. And it’s a blessing too–the very thing that makes me look pathetic on the outside has drawn me close to God and allowed me to think and pray and write, though not always well. But it’s the striving that counts. By the way, I’m entering “mini paws,” and the migraines are much less severe, so I hope to be completely well again and soon.
What Keith and David above said, self care and taking care of another both, help to keep the perspective. My family is very supportive and their many needs temper me. I’d be insufferable without them :)
I’m in the middle of Acedia and Me: a Marriage, Monks, and a Writer’s Life by Kathleen Norris and think it might lend some insight into both the hazards and the solutions to this writing life.
Vijaya,
Migraines are awful! I was plagued with them for a short period of time in college when I had to be on medication that caused them. My older daughter gets them occasionally.
I laughed at “mini paws.” My mom started the beginning stages of that at 42, so I know I’m not too young at 44. In her case the “fun” lasted a decade. I really hope that won’t be me!
Kim, thank you for your honest and courageous post, and for including a few touchstones to help others identify when the problem really is a problem.
Several people have mentioned not being able to take medication, by which I presume they mean pharmaceutical drugs. I’d like to suggest they consider homeopathy, practiced by a trained and licensed practitioner of natural medicine. It can truly do wonders, without the side effects.
I’m glad to hear you are feeling better, and hope you can feel the gratitude and admiration from your WU community.
Hi Leslie,
Thank you for commenting and for mentioning homeopathic treatments. The thing that helps calm the anxiety most for me is CBD oil. It’s legal – no THC. It puts me in a state of calm focus without any nasty side effects.
I’m definitely on the road to recovery. This community is a real lifeline!
Thank you for sharing and writing about something that absolutely MUST be said. I’ve been surrounded by varying degrees of mental illness my entire life. I watched my bipolar and multi-personality mother struggle with her depression that was often exacerbated by writing rejections.
I work hard to stay out of the depths myself, but having been around it so much, I have the advantage of being able to recognize it. This past winter (winter is my worst) was actually good. I’ve learned that if I focus on writing, the depression stays away.
Jeanne,
I can’t imagine what it would be like to grow up with a bipolar mother. I lived with a bipolar aunt for awhile before she was diagnosed and that was an experience to say the least.
Being able to recognize the problem before it gets bad is half the battle, I think. I’m usually much more aware of it creeping up. This time I was sick for so long, and all my energy was taken up by the coughing and trying to help my daughter through her crisis. I had no time to look in the mirror. Hence the therapy now!
Glad you had a good winter. That can be a tough season for a lot of people!
Writing to you very late, Kim, to say thank you for this brave, open and honest post. I’m late because I spent the day at a research hospital with my husband who has been fighting a chronic leukemia for almost 20 years. He is amazing and his strength makes me strong too. Writing also makes us strong and fills some voids with characters and ideas. Keep writing, keep reading. Wishing you the best, Beth
Beth,
Thank you for commenting. Your husband sounds like an amazing person and fighter. What an inspiration!
Kim, if I had not shed most of today’s tears after reading an email from a friend who has triplets just now in their 29th week (born at week 26), I would have cried reading your post. However, lately, crying comes easy. After two years and two months of waiting to find healing from a serious fall in January 2016 and then surgery in June 2017, I am still disabled and unable to do so many things. These are my excuses for not writing–pain, grief, lack of energy, poor stamina, foggy brain, etc., etc., etc. The bottom line is that I don’t bring myself to the page. Perhaps I should do that more and just do some free writing.
I have projects languishing and contests I’d love to enter. Yet, here I sit day in and out waiting…for what? My husband spent this last summer building me a writing workshop in our back yard. It’s a lovely thing and so cozy. I don’t even go there. What a sad wife I am!
I too have a family split between mental health disorders and alcoholism. And a half-sister who attempted suicide. Think I have any risks baking right now? Fortunately, I have a strong man in my husband and a great physician who I think truly cares about my physical and mental health.
My best resource group is the writing community online. Finding posts like yours today make all the difference in the world for others like me and you. I’m so introverted I don’t belong to a local group and so spend most of my time in solitude working, when I do, in quiet.
Thanks again for sharing your story and letting the rest of us share ours here in the comments.
Sherrey,
First off, a virtual hug to you. I’m an introvert, too, and it is hard for me to find the time and energy to get involved with local groups. If I were dealing with a disability on top of that…well, I can’t imagine. The internet can be a lifeline.
Your husband sounds wonderful, and it’s great you have a doctor you can trust. Do you have anyone outside of the situation you can talk to? Counseling has helped me tremendously throughout my life. A good therapist listens without judgment and helps you see ways that you can improve your life.
Thank you so much for commenting and for sharing your story. The more we speak openly about our struggles, the less stigma there will be.
I’ll be rooting for you to spend some quality time in that writing workshop.
Kim, what a timely post for me. I just had a bout with depression. The school shooting in Florida was the last straw. I had just committed to a blog challenge to find 2018 things to be grateful for in 2018. Then the Florida incident happened, and I was transported back to a time when I lost three grandchildren to an act of violence. I simply couldn’t think of writing gratitudes. So I gave myself permission to not write for a time. I gave myself a two week hiatus. Thank goodness, I recognized the depression for what it was– a temporary set back.
For me, the emotions come flooding when I make unrealistic demands on myself. At one point, I worked for a CPA who was of Swiss heritage and a perfectionist. I am also of Swiss heritage and have been called a perfectionist. I told him that we were both too “Swiss” to work well together. In the mildest tones, he said he took “violent exception” to my statement. I had expected that. But we both were expecting 100% effort and efficiency 100% of the time. Management will tell you that getting 80% efficiency 80% of the time is much more realistic.
I’m here to listen, and I wouldn’t mind a virtual hug between us, either. Thank you for your candor and for addressing this difficult topic.
Judith,
That shooting hit me hard as well, especially since I was already in an easily rattled state and the news of it has remained in the headlines. (I am fiercely proud of those kids, though!) I am so sorry to hear about your grandchildren; of course you would think of what happened to them at such a time. I’m glad you gave yourself some time off from coming up with things to be grateful about.
I’m not Swiss, but I have definitely been guilty of making unrealistic demands on my myself, of trying to do everything alone, etc. My kids are now old enough to start calling me on it, so I know this tendency is deeply ingrained. I imagine it is with you, too. Probably a lot of us struggle with this…
Sending you that virtual hug. I’m glad you are now in a better place mentally/emotionally.
I beat myself up over 3 years for the last book I wrote and was published when it should not have yet been. I call it my “rage book”—when I stomped through my life like Godzilla and made a mess of everything, on top of the messes that were already there. It was a bad bad time and it shows in the book. I stopped writing, for over 3 years, which is a death to writers, as you wrote above. And the weird shame of it, yes! As if we are somehow not human but held to some weird standard.
Ah, Kim – I’m sending you a big fat ol’ hug for all that the life crap that is smacking you senseless.
Hugs right back at you, Kat.
I’ve followed some of your adventures through social media and am still kicking myself that we didn’t manage to meet up while you were here in the DFW area. So glad that you made it back to your soul’s home.
I really appreciate your honesty and your sincere explanation as to why many of us go down into the dumps and we aren’t always sure why. Creative energies are fickle things, and they need to be fed and tended to. I’m working my way back up now. Good luck to you and your writing, and to everyone who previously posted, we got this!
Thank you so much for your comment, Kim. Glad to hear that you are finding your way back to good things. I’m sure I’ll be on that path soon, too.
Thank you, Kim, for your courage and gracious sharing–not only in the post, but in the comments! And thank you to everyone else for sharing your own wisdom and experience here. I’m sending out a lot of virtual hugs, especially as I feel as though I’ve received a collective virtual hug reading this conversation. :-)
It’s excellent timing, this reminder to be diligent with self-care and to be generous/patient with my writing progress. I KNOW it but I need to hear it again and again anyway. In particular, I have been thinking here and there that I should get myself back to a counselor for a kind of tune-up (I don’t mean that lightly). I don’t have to “wait” until things are at a crisis point, do I?
Alisha,
By all means get the “tune up” before a crisis. You might avoid the crisis entirely. I wish I had gone earlier!
Virtual hug right back at you!
Thank you, Kim.
Last year I took a DNA test to find the right anti-depression meds that would work for me. We discovered I am missing both genes that allow my body to assimilate folic acid and other B vitamins – the ones that give a sense of well-being. Looking back, my father was depressive. as well as other family members. I’m so grateful all it took to turn the dark side around for me was over-the-counter L-Methol folate and phosphorylated B vitamins.
I’m fairly new to this group, but so appreciate seeing this outpouring of authenticity and support.
Cheryl,
That’s fantastic you found such an easy solution. I have a friend who simply needed more vitamin D. I do notice a big difference in my sense of wellbeing if I forget to take my vitamins for several days. I wouldn’t be shocked if I’m missing a gene or two as well.
Thanks for commenting! Yes, WU is a fantastic support system!
I haven’t been writing lately. This has been going on for a year and some change, and is due to a specific event – a home break-in where the jerks took not only my laptop, but also the thumb drives I had everything backed up to. 30+ storylines all gone.
I found one thumb drive with older versions of most of my work a couple days later, but the rest is gone; the jerks still free. My home is better protected now (we fired the last company whose faulty equipment and lack of response to us only exacerbated the whole situation) but the fact remains that there is a huge part of me that is gone.
My non-writer friends told me I could rewrite everything, and it’s true that the stories are all still there…but how do I recapture the moments of life I experienced that spurred those writing sessions? I can’t, and that means they’re gone. Just…gone.
My therapist tells me to allow myself to grieve; that I have lost something akin to losing a close loved one and I’m allowed to grieve the loss regardless of whether the people around me understand. And I have grieved…tears, curses, and silent pleading for my thumb drives to somehow magically appear in my yard or maybe my mailbox. Finally, I’ve accepted they’re not coming back.
But even when I do pull out the new (nicer) computer gifted to me by well-meaning friends, everything that comes out is terrible, just not good enough. Weeks go by when I can barely stand to look at anything I worked on ever…because when I do, I see what’s missing and the grief wells up in dark clouds, obscuring my vision.
So no, I don’t write much these days. Mostly I go to work and keep my appointments with my therapist and psychiatrist so I can hopefully, one day, return to being the writer who enjoys her stories once again.
Amber,
I would be shocked if you WEREN’T having difficulty writing after such a loss. Non-writer friends would never understand how deep this would cut. No matter how well you remember all the nuances of the story, is still starting over with a blank page. Even if the re-write ended up better than the original, it would not be the same. Be kind and patient with yourself. Definitely grieve as much as you need to. Keep those therapy appointments. Your current work is likely being viewed through clouded over lenses. Make sure to keep it. Someday you may look at it and find it is far better than what you perceive it to be now.
A big virtual hug to you!
Thank you for this post. It resonates on so many levels. I’m an Indie writer whose second novel will be out in June but by day, and to pay the bills, I’m a licensed clinical social worker and work as a counselor.
I just returned yesterday from a 3 day silent retreat to restore my own mental health. Like you’d mentioned, I had noticed increased irritability, crying, anger, loss of joy. Of course as a counselor I would spot this in a minute in someone else, but it took longer to identify my own struggle and take time off to restore myself.
I’m happy you wrote this to raise awareness about how common mental health challenges are but also that they can be managed with proper interventions. In order for us to produce and share our art, we have to take time to care for our mental and physical health. I saw clearly on my retreat that my anxieties and sadness reduced my creativity and motivation to write which is a slippery slope since writing is such a therapeutic tool for me.
Thanks to everyone who shared their stories here. It definitely normalizes the challenges of life and reinforces the importance of taking time to care for ourselves.
Heather,
That silent retreat sounds like heaven! Going somewhere and getting out of my normal routine would do wonders for my well-being. Alas, I won’t get this until we take our summer vacation, but that does give me something to look forward to.
Recognizing the problem was the first step to recovery. Step two was getting back into therapy. I’m not quite okay yet, but at least I know now that I will be.