Progenitor Submissions End Tonight!

Progenitor will be done taking submissions 3 hours afters after this post is published.

I nearly accomplished my goal of making the maximum submissions. I’m short by 2 art pieces, but I met the max for all literary art and that’s better than nothing.

My post was originally going to be a lot longer, but chronic pain triggers depression which triggers pain–the debate of whether the chicken or the egg came first comes into play on this. Overall, I’m not too sure how I feel about getting all the literary pieces in.

Even though I don’t know how I feel, whether it’s shame in myself for finding this a challenge or pride for pushing through the pain and dizzy spells, I do know that I want to try (self)publishing whatever doesn’t get into the magazine. Progenitor’s staff would have ownership of the piece if it gets in after all. That’s not a bad thing, it just means that the magazine would be the only place someone can find it. That’s not a bad thing either, it’s just how it is.

I’ll put up what I submitted if none of the pieces get in and then self-publish whatever the true product will be. A lot of editing had to be done to fit within the 2,000 words or less limits. They’re still complete, I just don’t think they have the same feel as they do with more complexity and different methods of explanation.

Maybe I’ll be able to properly reflect when I feel better later. I just don’t want to let pain, illness and depression rob me of my ability to write. It’s the bets thing I’ve got going for what’s left of me, I can’t let it go without a fight.

What Illness Does to a Writer

Quick comment: my laptop is very outdated and it can no longer update (we’re talking over 8 years old here). With that, I can’t fully access my wordpress on this thing anymore, so I can’t do anything with comments, sorry.

This may be a series of posts, simply because there’s a lot to say about such a topic. I may not do them much though since, obviously, illness effects my ability to write.

I’ve seen how illness effects a person’s ability to live a normal life. My in-home care clients wouldn’t need me if that weren’t the case. I may not need someone to do in-home care with me (at least not yet), but it still effects my ability to do much. For me though, the most devistating part is how much it takes away from my ability to write and draw.

I’m still able to do it, but not as well or as often as I used to.

Losing my ability to do this allows my depression to grow worse, feeling down and upset with myself for not being abl to accomplish what I want to or what I used to be able to do.
There are times when writing feels like a chore–my energy is drained, if there’s anything to even drain, and I have all the pain, nausea, dizziness, and other strange feelings distracting me on the side. Something that’s supposed to be fun or relaxing, even invigorating, becomes difficult with everything else in the background. I try to push through it, but there’s only so much I can push through.

Comparing how much I used to be able to write compared to now can feel depressing, sometimes inexcusable despite spending many hours sick when I’m not at work or trying to get things done.
I keep telling myself I can do it again, that I can be like that again, maybe even better, but part of it is trying to accept that that’s a time in the future, not right now.

It’s hard to think in the cloud of dizziness. Depression and anxiety with my living situation isn’t helping either, but that doesn’t slow me down as much. I’m forgetting and scrambling up words and I’m becoming more aware of this. People point it out to me too and sometimes have to help me.
Some doctors think it’s just stress, some say it’s a sign of my illnesses getting worse. Whatever the cause, it’s frustrating to be someone who struggles with something they’re supposed to specialize with.

There’s less than a week to finish three art pieces and write one more short story for the 2015 release of Progenitor.
At this point in time, I don’t care about getting in as much as I do getting at least one of each in. I want to get all three art pieces in, but at this point, that may be too big of a goal for me anymore.
I’ve been trying to push myself, but it’s been one distraction after another with everything getting worse.
I want to do it so I can take pride in myself for accomplishing that much. It’d be an achievement for me to at least get something out of me through this fog and weakness. It’s the same sense of accomplishment as taking your first shower or some other independent act since a surgery.

It did inspire the idea I needed for the short story and the art piece.I have just enough in me to write the short story. I don’t know about the art yet, but I’ve been drawing bits and pieces here and there when I’m able to. I do worry I won’t have it in me to finish it in time, but I am glad I got it about 75% of the way there.

It is such a relief to finally find that spark in me again. I almost want to cry from joy, but then I won’t be able to see to write it haha.

Whatever doesn’t get into the magazine, I’ll try and post. I dont’ know where I’ll be living at that time, but I’d just need internet long enough to post them.
I’m making progress in a permanent living situation, but it’s a matter of enduring until all the puzzle pieces fall into place and that there aren’t too many distractions. That’s a post for another day though.

I’m thinking a lot of this is the lupron shot they have me on, but it’s my last option and it’s not working. The doctors theorize that I’ve been weakened by this to where I’m too weak and at risk of damage to be operated on again. My only options were pregnancy and the shot, but I don’t want a child for 1001 reasons and I cant guarantee I’ll concieve if I try.
I do plan on looking for other doctors to confirm the whole too weak for surgery thing too.
It’s just their observation. How do they know my organs are too weak to endure surgery without tests and just by looking at me? Can they put an ICD-9 or an ICD-10 code to what is causing the weakness?

Until they can, I’m not giving up.

Since I’m having some symptoms in the “rare but serious” list of side effects, I may have to go to urgent care later today and that’s why I wanted to try getting this post out.
I want to write as much as I can of this story as I can until it’s time to decide. Whether I end up going or not doesn’t really matter, I just want to do this much.

I finally understand how my grandmother felt when I took care of her and why she did the things she did, and that’s where my inspiration for this story came from…

Writing and Depression

I have been told, just like many people have, that keeping a journal can help with depression. Sometimes too, people mistake someone’s dark-themed poetry or writing as a warning sign in someone who is perfectly fine.

An example of journaling being helpful is the short story The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman–the husband not allowing his wife to journal because he thought it makes her depression and insanity worse actually allows it to worsen because her suffering has no outlet.
An example of writing not necessarily working could be Virginia Woolf–finishing a novel caused espisodes of depression that got worse and lasted longer with every novel she completed.

Why does something recommended for therapy sometimes make the problem worse? How does such a thing happen? I become depressed from writing as well, but not always.
I’d like to know what your thoughts are on this. Do you know anyone who has a reaction like this? Does writing actually help or make it worse? What are your experiences with such a thing?