First an Update

I realized suddenly that I left everyone hanging. After being gone for many months, I popped in to say that my life has gone down the crapper and then I never came back. Sorry about that.

I do have a new pdoc. We’ve only met once but I love him. He was easy going, gave me his full attention, adjusted my meds and answered my questions. I’m far from out of the woods, but I’m on much smoother waters. He did ask why I didn’t go to the emergency room when I had my suicidal incident. I told him because Maurice was with me and we arranged for me to stay with friends when he was gone. I told him the other reason is because I didn’t want to end up at the county hospital.

My primary hospital is outstanding, however they don’t have a psychiatric facility. I was certain if I went to emergency they would have determined I needed to go in immediate lockdown and would’ve sent me to the county psych ward. Surprisingly, it made my pdoc laugh. He told me that he interned at the county hospital and now was part of the emergency team at my primary hospital. He assured me that under no circumstances would he send someone to county. I now know for future reference, if the incident occurs again, they will find a hospital out of my network and arrange for the insurance to pay. Good to know.

Depression is still a struggle. Even worse, I’ve had a lot of anxiety and a disturbing number of dissociative episodes that have been terrifying. The good thing is, for now, I’m at a state that I know to hold on until they pass.

Struggling with Accepting Limitations

I’ve had great things going. I published my first novel in March. My second one will be releasing this Fall. Beyond that, I planned two additional novels in 2020 for the current series I’m writing (one every six months), plus I planned to start a second series that I was beyond excited about.

I’ve been working to finish the current book, setting up promotions, making notes for the next two books, having covers designed, taking a advertising/marketing course, etc.. On top of that I’m working on a short story to give away to attract customers to my novels. In addition, I had been organizing a novella for next year too for setting off the new series.

I just can’t do it. I know I need to be accepting limitations that I have, but I’m not there yet. Most of my literary friends, who independently publish, release around four books a year, which is about the bare minimum to have a remote chance of earning a living as an independent author. I know some people who release books every two months, and even have a friend who releases a new book every three to four weeks. I knew I could never push myself to produce that much. And, I certainly couldn’t do it while writing quality material, but I thought I could at least do four a year. I’m now struggling accepting that truth.

Most people never come close to beginning to write the novel they want, much less actually completing one. I am beyond proud of myself for achieving that. And you know what? If I write two books a year, I will have published ten books in five years. That ain’t too shabby. It’s just not what I wanted. For the first time in well over a decade I wanted to be self-sufficient. It’s looking like that’s not going to happen, at least for now.

Dealing With It

I am down. Yes, I’ll even say I’m depressed, but it looks like I’ll be okay. I’ll stick with the series I’m writing now and I’ll have to put those other outstanding ideas back on the shelf.

I am working at accepting my limitations, but I don’t think I’m going to get there until I get a new therapist. I don’t know when that’s coming but I know it’s soon.

Wish me luck.