It’s been a month to the day since I updated the blog. A lot has happened since I last tried to capture my thoughts.
First and foremost, just to get this on front street…I’ve been stamped, man. Officially marked and recognised as ‘clinically depressed.’
So, yeah…there’s that…
This wasn’t much of a surprise when my GP gave me the confirmation I knew was long coming, but there’s a defined difference between thinking (read: knowing in your heart of hearts) vs being told that, “Yes, you are definitely this thing. Also I’m a medical professional, so it means more. Deal with it.” *puts on sunglasses as classic rock begins to play*
Thankfully my Doctor is very good at her job and wonderfully empathetic, and so didn’t phrase it as such. The sunglasses thing though? Yeah, that happened. (No. No it didn’t.) Despite this, it didn’t diminish the blow, with the impact still landing like an unexpected Hulk punch…
…though, thinking about it, I’m pretty sure an expected Hulk punch would hurt just as much.
But, in the time that has passed, how have I been using it? What have I been up to, apart from occasionally wallowing in a pit of misery?
Short anwer: I was signed off from work.
I wanted to deal with it professionally and so went in to have the conversation face to face, rather than over the phone or e-mail. Call it a personal point of pride, but I’m glad I did it that way, as difficult as it was.
I was assigned a therapist who I unfortunately didn’t click with, wasting one of my most precious appointment slots that I am, gratefully, provided. I get 8. With one wasted, well, basic math time, kids, that left me with 5.
Thankfully, the second appointment during the first meeting with my new therapist (keeping up here, bud?) was wonderful. A lovely lady that didn’t leave me feeling like an idiot which, as far as I know, isn’t what the end result of a therapy session is meant to be like?
Going from an emotional rock bottom, to finding naive hope in my search for a literary agent, to this new adventure has been a long, gruelling, and emotionally draining battle. An internal, personal one that I’m not, at this time, equipped to deal with. Yet.
The submission process itself is arduous. Long, tiring, and not so much with the bearing of the fruit. If this was a village, our winter would be long and hard, man.
In between the copious amounts of research, applications, querying and – naturally – rejections, I carry on in the hope of finding that one person that clicks with my work. That connects with the story and themes I explore with my besties, Kenny and Gray.
I haven’t found that person yet. The agent I referenced in my previous post was quick with another polite rejection (which I appreciate! Getting a rejection, especially a polite one, is better than not hearing at all for months, with silence from the abyss greeting me…) but I’m getting tired of this process which, I suppose, is only natural. It makes me question whether it’s not ready. Whether it’s any good at all in the first place. I wonder if I’m wasting my time, investing too much into something that will never bear fruit (will somebody PLEASE think of the villagers?!) and if I should just put all my energies into starting this new book.
…maybe Temporary just isn’t meant to be?
Maybe. But I’ll keep trying because, who knows, maybe the next one is the one who will finally see its potential. Or maybe I’m simply a gluten for punishment. Maybe, MAYBE, it’s a mixture of the two?
All I know is, until then, I’ll continue this journey – both this new one for my sense of self, as well as this literary rollercoaster – collecting rejection letters as I go, like all the greats did before me.
In fact, here’s a short video clip of me surrounded by rejection letters, recorded earlier this month…