My therapist says so.

Considering when last he saw me I was battling suicidal ideation, and I hadn’t really written much of anything the week preceding that… and this week, I’ve been writing and doing something I felt good doing, and trying to exercise more, and balancing out the job applications. Those things have all had a serious impact on my mood and overall mental health. I’m working on accepting my situation as it stands right now and trying to find the best way to move forward.

I realized I really, really do want to make a career out of my writing. Even if it’s just off the erotica, this is what I want to do. This is what I need to do. You can say that the bad overall mental health resulted in the lack of words; that the lack of words are a symptom — but they’re more than that. If I stop writing, or if it’s a chore to get the words on the page, I’m in trouble.

You have to understand, I’ve been in at varying levels of depression for the past year. I’ve finished a 90k book in 21 days in that past year. Wrote on average 2k words a day, while watching a child and keeping up (vaguely) with a house in that past year. Writing is what I do. It’s how I breathe. It’s how I cope. When I stop writing? When it’s a struggle?

That’s how I know something is completely fucking wrong. And my therapist was so quick to point out the difference from last week to this week. Because that’s how much my attitude changed. That’s how differently I carried myself and how I sat in the chair opposite him and how talked.

So what if I’m (most likely) getting a divorce? So what if I have to pull myself back into a position where I can support and take care of myself — it ain’t like I haven’t really been doing that, anyway, the past 10 years of my life. Only difference now is I have a child to take care of, too. And a cat.

I want to be making a livable wage off my writing by my birthday. Roughly six months.

Betcha I can do it.