NaNoWriMo: The chance I need

Every part of my life has a season. That season is always accompanied with music. It's just who I am. Right now, outside, the season is fall. The air is turning colder. In New England, trees shed their leaves and the grass turns brown shortly after a vivid display of color.

But to me, November is now a month of personal birth and new growth. I thought it started last year with my first attempt at NaNoWriMo. And then, I came to realize, now that I am in the depths of writing my third novel, this is how it has always been.

Though my birthday is in April, I don't actually grow up until November.

Maybe it's because I love summer.

I don't know.

Maybe it's fate.

Maybe it's because I believe in chances. Some chances are created for me while others I need to recognize. Either way, they exist. And in this novel writing month, that is all I have to believe in. And that is why this song is now my theme for this season of my life.

"Chances come and carry me
Chances are waiting to be taken
And I can see
Chances are the fascination
Chances won't escape from me
Chances are only what we make them
And all I need"

Trying to pull it all together

Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, MySpace, Blogger! The list goes on and on. There are so many sites out there to utilize and so much information to gather. But is there a place to put it all together that is both affordable (free) and easy to use? Could a website do that for me?

My idea would be a site that has a page devoted to each networking site, much like the tabs of a folder-like a Trapper Keeper kept all of my papers organized in high school. I could log into my website and quickly browse through everything. Does a tool like this exist? If it doesn't could I create it?

Hmmm, I'm gonna have to get organizationally creative, I guess.

Back on the SSRI

I thought I could do it myself. That brick wall that formed in my life could most certainly be overcome by a survivor like me. I've done it before. I can do it again. Eating right, exercise and a whole ton of positive thought would propel me right back to where I wanted to be. I did not need an SSRI (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor) antidepressant to fix me!

Now, if only I could get myself to the gym. But I didn't. Nor did I feel like eating. Well, actually, I lacked the ability to choose what to eat so I avoided it all together.

Positive thought? Yeah, not so good. Those thoughts either never got finished or began an inner argument that ruled my life. I wanted to believe that relief would come just as soon as I _____ (fill in the blank).

That relief did not come, so something must be wrong with me. I had my thyroid and iron level checked, twice. Each time I went to see my PCP I berated myself for being a hypochondriac.

My doc did not berate or ridicule me. She knew my personality was one of exuberance, drive and passion. She also reminded me about my history of depression.

So, here I was, my brain no longer firing the way it once did. Which meant that I needed an antidepressant to reconfigure the wiring that had somehow shorted out, again.

But antidepressants could kill my creativity. At least, that is what I told myself. But truth be told, my creativity has been floundering for a long time. I've been sinking for a long time, but was unable to admit it.

That first night, when I placed the white capsule on my tongue and swallowed with hesitation, my pride caved in. I can't do this alone and I shouldn't. Everyone needs a life jacket now and again. If it were my heart, I wouldn't think twice about taking medication. My brain is malfunctioning and it's time I do something about it.

I admit, I felt like a failure. Not only did I succumb to depression again, but now I need medication to get over it.

But with the help of the SSRI I am seeing that I needed this experience. The whole point of my YA novels is to bring teen depression to the forefront. I had almost forgotten what it felt like. And now I remember. I am not worried about my creativity anymore. It's coming back, a little at a time. And so am I.

Breaking me out of the spell I was in....

This weekend, my husband and I were listening to the radio. A countdown was on from 1981. I wasn't a teen then, not even close! I was actually 7, but this song brought me right back to being young, family life, and the vague emotions that accompany those memories; the times that led up to my teen years.

And those are the feelings I write about. It helps me to understand them. It inspires me to keep creating.

So many times I think that I write for nothing. That no one is going to care about some girl that I create from the depths of my soul. And then I remember...for once, it's not about anyone else. It's about me. I need this. I want this. And if I'm fortunate enough to be able to share it someday, I will be one of the lucky ones.

Many times throughout my life, I have been labeled "brave". Yes, I use the term 'labeled' because that is not how I see myself at all. What is brave about wanting to speak and be heard? What is brave about baring your soul? I find it all a little selfish. Helping others helps me feel good. And to me, no amount of knowledge can compare to real life experience.

And now that I have broken out of my spell, I feel more free than ever. When I write, I feeling like I am walking on air. I will probably never be a great American hero, wearing a cape and flying, but at least I can create my own endings. And maybe, just maybe, they might matter to someone else.

But until then, I'll just keep writing because I can!

Old English vocab word of the blog:

Plebian: n. (in ancient Rome) a commoner; a member of the lower social classes