2019 summed up:
If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.
So, the long version of things is 2019 was a rough year for me. Every time I got on here to post a blog, all I could think to do was talk about how bad things were in my life. And the rational part of me–that part that I bury deep because I much prefer to be emotional and that makes me “quirky”–couldn’t claw its way out of a hole. All I could see was darkness surrounding me, and for no reason.
I know I’ve written about my depression on here before, so I try not to be a broken record about things. But this was a particularly rough year. The best way I can quantify it is this: it was my least productive year, maybe in my entire life. I didn’t read much. I didn’t paint much. I didn’t leave my house much.
I allowed myself to be pulled into this endless cycle of going to work and coming home. And when I’d get home, I’d be so tired that writing or reading were the last things I could even fathom doing. What I could fathom doing was getting on here and letting my fingers rip everybody with whom I’d come into contact that day to shreds. So I just didn’t type anything.Read more