The Slow Decay & the Little Victories

Perhaps this is my pinnacle; maybe this is where I top out. 

I sincerely hope not, but everything feels very uphill from here. I am so much better now at processing and evaluating the inner workings of my brain and the motivations for what I do and who I talk to and how I move forward in all things. I am regularly scraping out the skeletal bowl that is my skull in search of answers or guidance for these new versions of me that are populating in the moment so that I can pivot accordingly in the hopes that I retain some version of the self I knew. 

My doc and I assumed a bump up in dosage of my Welbutrin would help return some of my long-missing focus, but that hasn't seemed to have made much of a difference. It remains incredibly difficult to read; it takes several minutes to read a single page, but then I need to read that page multiple times to read it all. And even then, it's about a 25% chance that I've comprehended what I just worked my ass off reading. As someone who used to read ~100 books a year, this is more than aggravating or concerning, it's downright terrifying. 

And it's not just the reading for pleasure that's affected. There are a number of systems and softwares I want to learn for my job; all those require a great deal of reading and comprehension. I cannot get stuck or left behind or I will quickly find myself in the unemployment line. Trying a less complicated department is both not on my radar and would require a massive amount of reading and learning, which...are issues at the moment. 

I've reached out to my doctor for further advice. While I'm not keen on trying new meds, I'm even less enthused at the prospect of a potential MRI to suss out the issue. 

I worry this is a neurological thing more than a chemical imbalance thing. On this particular issue in my life, I am not doing well mentally. But as with everything else, I press on and move forward because allowing it to stop my momentum means metaphorical death. 

*    *    *

I'm writing again, but it comes in slow, laborious trickles. I've been preparing myself for the eventuality that I've perhaps written my last full book, a conglomeration of thoughts and feelings that I really don't care for much (unsurprisingly). 

This gets especially bad when I see some of the unfinished manuscripts that got halted almost exactly three years ago on the morning I got the phone call about dad's passing. Like a brick wall went up between my hands and my manuscripts while I keep trying to claw my way through it all, leaving bloody fingernails in the mortar and nothing to show for the effort except lame hands and rotted fingers. 

But I keep trying. I keep attempting new ways of working in an attempt to jumpstart everything. 

*    *    *

But not all is as grim as I make it out to be. Despite the creative slump, I'm better these days. I have completely overhauled my diet, sustaining myself mostly on oats, Greek yogurt, fruit, egg whites, vegetables, and rice (or blended cauliflower, a great rice substitute). I began implementing a workout plan put together by a friend doing the same, but it became pretty clear that my body wasn't going to be able to keep up after the first two weeks.

BUT...I've lost 12lbs in the last month by doing my adjusted workouts and three daily walks through my neighborhood (as well as diet changes). So this is clearly very good. The ultimate goal is to be looked at and treated like a piece of meat by summer time. And no, I'm absolutely not joking. 

*    *    *

Two things I'm looking forward to out on my horizon: 

1.) I submitted my last short story manuscript to Featherproof Books back in August. I feel the pieces are some of my strongest, which makes it even more annoying that I'm having so much trouble creating others now. No idea when I'll hear back from them, but the manuscript is out there and I feel good about its potential, even if they decide not to publish it under the banner of their publishing house. The pieces are dark and some of my personal favorites that I've written. "Lambs" is a particularly slowly creeping menace of a story that I'm VERY proud of. 

2.) Despite having only been painting for a year, I submitted 10 of my pieces to a local organization in the hopes that they'll see I'm trying new techniques and pushing myself to be better since painting number one. They only choose three artists from the KC area to represent for the next year, but there is a hefty stipend that comes along with it, as well as serious exposure in other galleries around the area. While I have no doubt they'll choose artists with far more talent and better work, I hope they still take my work seriously (but who knows; if it's anything like the writing world, I'll be lucky to get much more than a form letter). 

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