Resistance is Futile
Really, I was done writing. I had made a decision that I would offer a guest blog spot. To my muse.
Then I researched muse.
Then I researched depression. Particularly depression in writers.
My research confirmed everything that I already know.
So. Then. Okay.
So. Then. I developed an action plan. An action plan!!!
My plan backfired. Three times. Four times.
In the wake of attempting to do (almost) everything I thought I could do, or was supposed to do, everything I thought that might be best for me, or at least better for me, my plan blew up in my face again and again, and blew my mind once or twice, and flipped me right back over upside down.
In the first twenty-four hours, then thirty-six hours. And now almost forty-eight hours later. I really don’t know what to make of it.
Signs from the universe? Interference from Satan? Messages from God?
Or – probably, most likely – it’s just life.
I’m running out of coping mechanisms.