Over the past couple of days, I’ve started writing again. Yesterday, I managed over two thousand words on the new book, and I’m elated.
For most of this year, I’ve been too stressed to write, for one reason or another, and it’s felt like there’s been a part of me missing. I haven’t felt whole. Because the truth is, writing has always been more than a hobby for me; it’s been a compulsion, a craving and a necessity. A huge part of my self-identity. Without it, my life feels empty and rudderless.
But on days like yesterday, when I have a good day at the keyboard, I feel energised. I get all hyper and my mood skyrockets. I feel more confident and my mental health improves. It’s better than any drug. And over the past couple of days, I really feel I’ve recovered a missing part of myself.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a book to write…
[The photo above is of me at my desk. For more great photos, check out the photographer @bristolwench_shooting_stuff on Instagram.]No tags for this post.