“At the midpoint on the journey of life, I found myself in a dark forest, for the clear path was lost.” Canto I, Dante Alighieri

Last week I missed a post for the first time since I started this blog, it has given me something to write about, something that has been plaguing me for most of my adult life.

You’re not told there’s anything wrong with you. People wonder if you’re okay, they ask you questions like, “What’s wrong?” or “Are you okay?”

The truth is I haven’t been okay and there has been something wrong.

Any writer who’s read anything about Hemingway knows he suffered from severe depression and is possibly the reason he took his own life.

Depression and mental disorders run rampant in writers and all creatives, it’s one of the things which make us creative, but if you believe that bullshit, then I want to send you to the moon on a cannon courtesy of Jules Verne.

The truth is depression and mental issues give us something to write about, they make us who we are and along with things we may use to cope with our depression and mental issues–drugs, alcohol, video games, meditation–we have to find a way past the drugs and alcohol and into a place that is safe for us, our family and friends.

I’ve been in a very dark place for the last few months, and though I’ve been writing, it’s been very dark subject matter.

My depression started the end of November, at least that’s what I believe, though it could have begun when my grandfather passed away in September..

His presence when I was a kid and going fishing with him and my cousin are my favorite childhood memories.

Though I’ve reconciled with most of that side of my family. My dad’s reaction to my presence was not as heartwarming as I’d have liked considering the circumstances.

Depression of some sort has been a staple in my life, especially in adolescence. Writing and books were always may way through my depression, though recently my writing has become a subject of my depression– I’m a writer and I believe my writing sucks regardless of what everyone else tells me–these things have caused me to second guess what I write as well as if I should be writing at all.

Though I love writing and enjoy every moment of story creation, depression has been causing me such problems lately that I’ve contemplated quitting writing altogether.

I won’t let depression beat me and I won’t quit writing because it’s become who I am over the last few years and I won’t change who I am for anything or anyone.