I’m not normally a depressive person by nature. In fact I’m normally comically happy. I sing people’s names, I crack jokes about stuff going on around me and I’m just a little bit bonkers. But sometimes there are things, situations or more accurately, things and situations created by other people that chip away at my usual cheerful self. It can often take a long time for this to have any noticeable effect. Which explains why, after two years of being chipped at, I’m about as low on self esteem as I’ve been in the last ten years.
All this comes from trusting what people tell me. You see I always give others the benefit of the doubt and nine times out of ten I get bitten in the arse for it. But what can I say? I’m genetically nice, I find cynicism difficult to buy into.
This last week has been a shitter. I’ve been strung along and used and it’s left me hurting. It makes it difficult for me to be creative when I feel like a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit, and that’s why I’ve not posted anything creative this week.
It’s tough to focus on it and believe me I tried. I had a half written short story based on a daily prompt sitting in my drafts but it just wasn’t coming together. It felt forced, so I binned it. I suppose you could say I’m closed for refurbishment while I re-evaluate, yet again, the direction, or rather the lack of direction, my life is taking.
Rest assured, normal service will resume.
The stories will reassert themselves, they always do.
But for now, Keep Calm and Carry On.