This article will be published on November 27th, 2017. By then, you will have seen (most recently), a review of reputation, the best selling album of the year, and an article detailing my experience fundraising for and participating in Titan's Wheelchair Sports and Champion's Place. Neither came from a very original place. Don't get me wrong, I believe that both of these things are topics worthy of articles, but since before I was fully aware of my depression, the ability to write wholly original articles has eluded me. I meant every word of my last article, but it was a combination of conversations, college essay drafts and this Facebook post I made the night before the gala. As for Ms. Swift's new album, a quick Google search will reveal a lot of similar articles.
So why is the well so dry these days? I have only hypotheses, but here me out.
Words have abandoned me, or at least, they have started resisting arrest. I never had to work to write for myself before.
And I think a large part of the reason why is because my current mental state is one of the few things I've ever encountered in my life that defies description.
It is messy, all encompassing, differs from person to person, and is almost impossible to understand unless you've had a brush with it yourself. I sit and I talk about how I'm feeling, whether it be with my family, my well-meaning friends, or an impartial 3rd party, and it always ends with the same thought: "You don't get it."
Words have truly failed me for the first time in my life. And to hear the voice inside my head tell it, if I can't explain this most troubling thing in my life, what's the chance that anything I write will be something that hasn't been said a million times before, and better written?
That's what depression has done to me. It's taken all the confidence I had in myself and shattered it. Writing is just a rather large part of that.
Please don't misunderstand what I said a few paragraphs back. I am not ungrateful for the kindness shown me during this difficult time. On the contrary, I'm incredibly lucky to have so many who care so deeply about me.
Just don't be surprised if I seem impossible to cheer up. That's the nature of the thing. It doesn't mean I don't need your help. I do.
But this is my fight, against thoughts and feelings I've never had before, which I'm still learning to navigate.
Just because the words come harder does not mean I will stop trying, though. Writing and speaking and interacting with people is what I am passionate about, and I am sure that one day soon, I will find the passion in them again.
