Category Archives: depression

Bleeding Passions

I bleed every time I write.

When I say bleed, I literally mean exhausting every ounce of energy in me. Whenever I’m in the zone, I can’t be bothered ‘lest I look at the nuisance with murderous eyes. Inspiration comes in bursts, and seizing those moments are critical in the writing process.

I am done with sitting on the computer all day long and drawing blanks. It simply does not work for me. What works though are solitary walks, being with nature, exercise, reading, music. Just taking a good time out from the ‘job’ of writing.

So don’t be surprised if some writers you know are pretty sensitive when it comes to their copy. Each end product that comes out of every endeavor is, after all, a summation of their energies, all poured into a piece of paper.

With years of doing this for a living, some writers such as myself, are now more open to suggestion and criticism. Growing up means being open to improving your craft. But there will always be the problem of getting inspiration. Finding inspiration is the constant struggle for every single project I accept, not the criticism, nor the deadline.

How I wish that by simply accepting money and automatically churning content were that easy. It’s much more complicated than that: I need to know if the copy is worth my time, if the owners are worth my energy or if their business goal and passions are meshed with how to improve a particular system.

Obviously, being your text-book systems builder, I like to improve things. And this translates to how I work as well. If the copy that I churn from my fingertips help a business or a friend in improving a particular system, culture, business, etc. then I go for it with all my might. Nothing done in halves. A project/vision/team/person should be worth my energy, my ideals, my passions. Otherwise, I turn it down.

A few weeks ago I’ve been distraught. I haven’t been able to create. There were days of crying spells. I couldn’t eat and sleep. I felt like I was loosing my mind.

Then, unexpectedly, a family concern came up. The timing of it all. I’ve just successfully inked a major project with a very important client, when personal concerns such as hospitalization comes up. Two nuclear bombs on opposite ends. How lovely.

But surprisingly, during those days in the hospital, I’ve been able to write excellently given the dire situation I was in.

I wrote in the cath lab, the patient’s room, brainstormed on the nurses station while blatantly questioning the nurses’ competence, the timing of the patient’s food, the ambulance MD who hit on every single female nurse (and had the death glare of his life when he tried to get chummy with me), the billing clerks at the hospital…every angst I had during that hospital stint, I took out on the hospital staff and put in my writing. I had laser-like focus.

The hospital distraction helped me construct, compose, create. I was argumentative, fiery and passionate: the best recipe for creating, for writing.

I still have to finalize and close the current project, but the momentum has now resurfaced. Sometimes, it takes a life hurdle to shake you senseless and tell you ‘Get a grip! You got this’.

I may have bled buckets the past few weeks but every drop was well worth it.

Have you gone through the same dry-spells? How did you get your groove back on track?

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Violent Rain Couds

It comes in waves. It hits like lethargic nonsense.

You feel out of focus. There is no drive and purpose. You have difficulty in concentrating. You are just sapped of energy. You begin to doubt yourself.

Getting out of bed is difficult. It overshadows everything good: a good family, a steady professional life, good health, good city, good life, good weather. You should be fucking grateful!

But alas, the sun doesn’t shine here, not this time.

Nothing tastes, smells, or feels right and you are unable to think or make decisions–yet you still have to carry on doing all those things. And so much of the time you just don’t have the energy or the desire. But you still carry on anyway.

Then you refuse to answer phone calls. You refuse to answer emails and messages. You just want time out. Away from everything and away from people. There is this loss of desire to partake in life.

You’ve fixed the bed for the nth time and now your attention is on the sink. Hoping someone would cook and let you wash the dishes just so to keep your hands busy. You hate looking at your shaking hands. Since all you do is watch walls, mindless repetitive work sounds good right now.

You can’t eat. You barely sleep. You can’t really put into words what’s bothering you because you don’t have the slightest clue what it is to begin with.

Worst is, people watch you when you eat, saying you’ve lost so much weight. In your head, you tell them to mind their own goddamn business.

It’s all in your head you tell yourself. Get out of this funk you tell yourself. But all you feel is this deep melancholy. Maybe you just need a change of scenery? The beach or a trail hike will do you good. A swim, a little bit of writing? Perhaps.

Being down this road before, you know that somehow you’ll get passed this. Take your time, there’s no rush love.

Smiling maybe painful right now but I have long embraced my violent rain clouds.

I have long embraced my violent rain clouds
I have long embraced my violent rain clouds