Sister in the Shadows

Standing in the Shadows by Ed Newman
Now that everything is finished cosmetically around here, it's time to get away from the nuts and bolts of a blog and back to actually writing blog entries. I feel unleashed in a way. The changes were long overdue and I have a fresh outlook. I've always run toward change rather than resisted it, so this comes as no real surprise...

I've been battling a pretty strong bout of depression this past week, something that used to make my life both miserable and beautiful, but since I outgrew all of those hormonal ups and downs years ago, I've remained pretty level. I admit that I relished the angsty introspection because I almost always seem to come out of it with tons of ideas. Happiness and contentment have a way of playing hell with the artistic soul, I guess.

I did an image search on the word, depression. Nearly all of the photos show someone holding their head in their hands, or their knees drawn up. Depression has never affected me like that. For me--if I could picture it--it's more a crossed-arms, retiring posture, silently watching what's going on, scrutinizing every black thought. I found this painting. This is how depression feels to me.

Over the past week I was able to get back in touch with the deeper part of me that few people ever meet. I keep her for myself, that me whose gut is clutched by a giant velvet fist, demanding I express the psychic and emotional pain that I try so hard to hide. Because I've had to deal with depression my entire life, it doesn't frighten me. I am not suicidal and I detest self-pity. But I do enjoy a little self-indulgence once in a while; I like to discover what comes out of it, what new ground I can cover. It never lasts very long and the worst part of it is those upon-waking anxiety attacks I've written about several times through the years.

Night before last I worked a number of hours on Book Three. Blowing out the cork that I thought was lodged in my creativity wasn't as difficult as I'd imagined. I think this book is going to be easier than the other two were. Outside of some web work, I've done a great deal of writing over the past two days and nights. I'm trying a new tack, but I'm not sure that it's going to stick. I'm not yet familiar or comfortable with this book--that takes time. I'm sort of dancing around it, waiting for it to show me what it's going to be. Although I've outlined the story, I'm unsure of its tone. We've only just begun to get to know each other. These books are like a trio of sisters, similar in looks, mannerisms, and genetics, but individual at the same time. I liked the two older sisters, but I think I'm going to fall in love with the third.