#SoCS: A novel idea

For a writer, write therapy is the right therapy.  That is the way for every artist with an obsession.  You may not like the way the art is expressed, but you know something — that doesn’t matter.  When I’m in the middle of a mental crisis, it’s not the pills that get me out of it, nor is it the times in my life, half my life ago, that I chose therapy to  sort it out.  What has helped more than anything is writing out the storm.

I’m facing a mental glitch at the moment.  I must retire, but I don’t want to.  I must learn how to adjust from being poor to very poor, and every decision I make is second guessed to the point where I stand, immobilized, wondering about what to do next to such a point that I appear to others to be in a catatonic state.

It will pass.  It always does.  I know the cause of it and I also know without a doubt that running from one place to another, one state to another, one way of life to another does absolutely no good if I don’t accept the fact that I will never like who I am.  I can only come to terms with myself and learn to live with me.

I know this is a strange stream of consciousness, but it helps to let the fingers fly and the mind soar above the landscape  so that I can see the entire picture, not just the forest of thoughts I’m presently lost inside.

I need no advice, for there is no absolute solution.  I need no pity, for all of us go through this at some time in our lives.   All I need is to share this moment in my life with others so that anyone else who is going through it knows s/he’s not alone.

As I sit on a rubber donut writing my NaNoWriMo novel, plan for retirement, and have a crisis over the fact that no matter where I go, there I am, I am left to wonder why the human mind seems to be hardwired to self-doubts.  Possibly because anyone without them is insane?