Random Musings and General Angst
Everyone's got at least one of those kinks. You know, the ones they love to read about in fiction but in reality they would at best find uncomfortable and awkward, and at worst run screaming into the night in search of a good psychiatrist? I think I've come to realize that pretty much everything is that kind of kink for me.
Not necessarily just sex stuff...basically everything involving feelings of any kind. I read and write about romance and sex and family and drama and feelings because it's the only time I ever really feel any of it. When I'm not reading/writing/watching stuff/playing video games, I just feel...nothing. A persistent, full, hollow nothing, that builds in my chest until it threatens to overflow in the form of empty tears, but even then, even when I would kill just to be able to cry (I never actually can), I don't feel sad or angry or emotional in any way.
The funny thing is, I know why. At least, I think I do, though it could easily be my desire to assign a reason to everything so that it can be more easily understood. I've been off of my anti-depressants and mood stabilizers for almost three years, now, in anticipation of getting pregnant (a lot of things have gotten in the way of that, obviously), and intellectually I know that this familiar hollow nothing feeling is a prominent symptom of clinical depression. I remember feeling like this before, but I was so desperate to force myself to feel things then that I did a lot of things that weren't smart. Now I guess I'm just more resigned about it (that, and my wife would likely kill me for falling back into any of those old habits).
Writing helps, when I'm able to do it; because even when I'm not actively writing, I'm building stories and characters in my head, and that's exciting and keeps me engaged in A world, if not the real world. The problem comes when I hit that creative block, and for all my ideas and stories, I can't seem to string a sentence together without effort of monumental proportions.
If you haven't guessed from my general absence from everything fandom and the existence of this post, I've recently hit that block. It's particularly galling to me now because I've stumbled across not one but two "new" fandoms (Warehouse 13 and Dragon Age II) that I'm itching to write for, and ideas are spilling all over the place, but for the life of me I can't shape any of them into actual prose.
Knowing why doesn't help, not really; not when I know that the answer is going back on my medication (of which, amusingly enough, one of the most common side effects is feeling "numb"). I've survived nearly three years without them, I can certainly manage at least another ten months or so (breastfeeding is a completely different story, and I can at least go back on one of my meds safely once the baby is born). It almost makes it worse, in a way; knowing there's nothing I can do, or that I'm willing to do, to fix it. I dislike being unable to fix things.
There's not much point to me posting this, really, except that I'm hoping that getting these thoughts out of my head may unclog something. Sometimes it feels as though my brain really is like a clogged drain or something, with thoughts building up and sticking until nothing can get through. Hopefully forcing some of them out will loosen the rest, and I can get back to feeling things vicariously through my characters (or the characters I ~borrow so often and so shamelessly). If nothing else, I can at least feel accomplished, then.
And now I (hopefully) return you to your regularly scheduled ficly entertainment. Sometime soon. Hopefully.