Last year when I lost my mind and went to the mental hospital and spiraled into a deep dark depression I decided a couple of different things.
Well several things.
Well a lot of things.
But let me stay on topic here. One of the things I decided was to try and start writing more. I love to write. It is one of the few things in life I truly adore, all the time, no matter what. NO MATTER WHAT. I like to do it when I first get up, I like to do it before bedtime, I like to do it, do it, do it. The thing is I’ve always wanted to be a writer, but I never thought I could be a writer, so I’ve always just thought to myself – I’m not a writer, I just like to write.
When I started working on recovering from my deep dark depression (triple D – in my mind a little monster with very big boobs) I decided to ignore the idea that I’m not a writer, and just write. What’s the worst that could happen? People could be mean? No meaner than I am to myself on a pretty regular fucking basis. Other people could disapprove? They would have to get in line, there is a line of disapproving assholes in my head that are much better at tearing me apart on a regular basis.
What I’m really getting at here is that I’m going to start sharing some of my super short fiction here on my main blog. I think it is called micro-fiction or ficlets or flash fiction or something. Anyway, I write it a lot, and I’m going to start sharing it. I have poetry that I put out over here, and I am going to continue to just keep writing these short short stories, and I’m going to continue to work on my bigger stories, which are a series of re-written fairy tales that have been filtered through my filter.
For the first months of this year I’ve done a lot of self-affirmation writing, a lot of – I feel like I can be okay with myself writing – and now I feel okay just sharing some of my made up stories as well. For the most part I’ve only ever shared this with friends, and they’ve always been supportive, and the fact of the matter is, that means a lot to me.
One of my closest friends ever recently visited Sesame Street and sent me a video of him with Abby Cadabby. He did this because he loves me, but it was the perfect hug from a distance. Abby loves words, Abby re-imagines fairy tales, and Abby is slightly over the top. Because he sent me love from Sesame Street, it was the perfect reminder that I can do anything, even something that scares me – like sharing my words, sharing my writing, and keeping my promise to myself to just keep moving forward and writing and living above my depression.
Even if I don’t consider myself a writer, I’m going to keep writing.