I decided I was going to try weaning off my Zoloft. School is back, and I feel in a reasonably good place, and like I’m coping a lot better.
My brain has decided otherwise. Not sure why, but a few days without and I’m back feeling miserable again, and questioning everything. I really think some kind of therapy is required but finding the time and the money is an impossible task at the moment.
But that’s another post for another day.
Staying on the Zoloft doesn’t really bother me too much. Although I don’t want to be dependent for the rest of my life, I find feeling confident and in control preferable to cranky, miserable and like a big fat failure. As I’m sure most of us do.
But it’s the moments when the drug haze lifts that I get a clear picture of how I see my life, and what areas need some work.
I’ve got this whole thing about trying to be fearless happening, and all these ideas how to do that. Obviously looking for book publishing is a big part of that, but a scary daunting part. Last week when I sat down to really get into it, I faced so many demons. From not knowing where to start so it’s easier to give up, to choosing to seek a literary agent over self publishing, because the latter is the safer option.
And when I finally got past all those dramas, I started reading and decided it was absolute crap and no one needs to read it anyway.
I haven’t really got past that part yet.
Add to that the fact that my blog stats are down.
Not constant, lower.
My comments are down, my page views are shrinking, and even getting a ‘like’ in facebook is proving to be a mission in itself.
That leads to some pretty serious questions about what I’m doing here, and what I’m doing writing. Is it the content, or is it just me?
This could be all about just holding on
I can’t get my feet off of the ground
I wanna run but I don’t know how
Could you reach down here and pull me out, just pull me out
Bebo Norman- Pull Me Out
I have this dream…. No its more than that. It’s a feeling, almost like a birthright, if that doesn’t sound too arrogant, that I can be great. That I was born for more than low ceilings and selling myself short.
I believe life is an adventure, and I can be the hero in the story. Don’t know who exactly who I’m rescuing, but I believe I can make the story better, help those who need it and generally get a happy ending.
Except that reality seems to dictate otherwise. In reality I’m no one. I’m a stay at home mum who writes random thoughts and crazy ideas, puts them on the Internet, and a few people read them. I live in a rented house with noisy air cons, a leaky roof, missing floorboards and a washing pile that is never satiated.
And when it comes to writing, or even when it comes to those crazy vlogs I love doing and
pour myself into, I am a very small fish in a great big pond.
It has come to the point of do I give in?
Or do I hold on?
In about six weeks it’s the Digital Parents conference. My tickets are booked and there is a part of me that is hugely excited.
There is another part that doesn’t want to go. That does not want to leave her babies for a couple of days for what really? To try and push my self out there? To be in a room full of big fish and wonder if there really is any place for me at all?
This is not a ‘woe is me’ post. I’m not writing this for nice comments and lots of support. If i knew how, i would turn off the comments.
I’m just being honest. I’m looking at my life and trying to work out want I want to do, and how do I get there? Like the words of the above song, I wanna run, but I don’t know how. I want the adventure, and I know I can be great. I know there is so much more for me.
But what is it?
And how do I get there?