Writing Words With the Tips of My Toes
I’ll admit that I probably chose the worst time in my life to launch myself on to the road of self-publication. Or perhaps there is no better time? Who is to say?
As I’ve mentioned before, I have bipolar disorder and am not stable on meds. My mania is treated, but my depression still struggles. I do struggle with suicidal ideation. I am not ashamed to admit that. I know how to cope when suicidal feelings become overwhelming. I’ve coped for months. Some days are worse than others. Some days I do feel inches away from wanting to take my life. But then I do my best to remember what I’m fighting for.
Before I made the decision to self-publish, I was fighting to keep going by using my dance recital. And it was worth it. It was worth everything. As a later starter, being in a recital was a dream come true, especially being able to do two of my three roles en pointe. Getting en pointe was a dream come true itself. But when the recital ended, I felt this deep emptiness because it was the reason I was still alive. Depression is a horrible illness, especially bipolar depression. It’s hard to find enjoyment in your life when you feel so detached, so to no longer have my recital to strive for, I found myself breaking down every night in what seemed an unending sobbing fit for the next three days.
Then I realized I needed to pull myself together. I needed to, once again, accept that I was still depressed. I still had dance, but I needed something bigger to make my heart continue beating, to make my life worth it so I could continue fighting for stability through this trial-and-error medication management. Because I am worth it, right?
Then I thought about my novel, When Stars Die. I stopped writing because it took energy and concentration that I didn’t have. I’m still not sure if I even have it, but one thing I do know is passion and a desire to live will make me have the concentration needed to self-publish my book. Using the publication of my book as an incentive to stay alive is the best thing I can do for myself right now. That is my ultimate motivation for getting back to my book: to stay alive. That is how, despite the depression, despite the desire to sleep all the time, despite the unending thirst to isolate myself, I will continue living, I will continue getting up, and I will continue fighting.
I think about my favorite singer, Emilie Autumn. She used her album Opheliac as a bargaining chip to keep living. She figured once she completed it, she’d no longer be suicidal. She was right. I feel the same way, but I know the deletion of suicidal feelings is not so easy. That will take the right medicinal cocktail for me. But my book is worth it. I’ve dreamt of being published since I was a kid. I’m not throwing that dream away just because I’m in a bad spot right now.
So that is how I grasped the motivation to get back to my novel, when I’d been away from it for so long without a care as to whether I’d get back to it or night.