Writing Through A Mild Depression.

Writing Through Depression Is A Toughie.

Tim Crossland-Page


Photo by Tim De Pauw on Unsplash

Writing through depression is a tough one. You don’t like much about yourself. Your motivation feels sapped. And not just your motivation but your energy levels too. It’s hard to concentrate. Thoughts tend to slow, and lack a little coherence. It is more difficult to edit too. So mistakes slip through the net.

I’ve decided to write through this particular bout. It’s not the worst I’ve had. It’s making me want to sleep too much. And making it hard to get my focus straight. But there’s no suicidal ideation. Which is good. Although that sort of shit kinda just bounces off me after years of learning to cope.

The thing is other than paying off debts and trying to heave my life into moving in the right direction, and the kind of over work that afflicts most people, I’m leading a pretty happy life right now. I’m actually doing what needs to be done, I’ve got the bipolar in hand, I’m not drinking. I just need to be patient for the time being, and things will progress.

But the mood nevertheless persists, and it is actually a nuisance, because things that are effortless without the weight of even a minor depression like this one is, become more difficult. I’m losing time. Like, where did that hour go, kind of time, where I have no idea what I have been really doing.

The flow state that is so real and reassuring disappears. And although there is no suicidality, the spectre of bad ideas begin to percolate in the mind. Cravings to drink become more regular, though to be fair right now, I’m so done with that as a route to escapism I feel tired just thinking about it.

The urge to hide away in a cotton cocoon is strong. But I know this makes me feel unproductive and lazy.

So I guess I’m stuck with a sense of dissociation, feeling a little distanced from myself. Feeling numb and wondering where my place is in the world.

In the end the wish to write starts to nag at me again. I miss the structure of it, and the way it helps me to see where I’m at. It also helps stabilize identity through building a narrative of recovery, when things feel tough.