I was sitting on the couch yesterday, bored. Not interested in books. Not interested in the bookternet. Not interested in writing, or stickers, or running. Not interested in anything but sitting in quiet and wallowing in it.
Many times I've thought about shutting this blog down. I don't read for a month or more at a time. I don't prioritize it among all the other things going on. I've been neglecting Book Riot. My sticker shop is closed when it was supposed to reopen last Friday. I haven't been running.
This is what depression looks like for me. It's a distinctive lack where there was, even recently, an abundance. An abundance of enthusiasm, energy, drive. Now, silence or a nagging in my head.
I've certainly known this cycle for long enough that I realize I shouldn't make major decisions when I feel this way. I miss writing here, I miss writing at Book Riot, I miss it.
I miss you.
When I'm out of this funk, I hope I'll feel differently. I hope I'll feel something.
Note: Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I'm on meds. I've lived this for 30 years. Just another cycle. But, alas, I share it because I want others to feel less alone.