I need something in my life. Something that I enjoy. Something to drown myself in. Something I’m passionate about.
I feel like the poster-child (although not a child) for depression. “Have you lost interest in things you once loved?” Why yes, I have. It happened a long time ago. So long ago that I don’t even remember what those “things I once loved” were.
It’s not that I can’t get what I want… it’s that I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what would make me happy or what I would enjoy or what would feel good. And that has been an issue for me for a long time.
I’ve test-driven a few answers, but none of them stuck. I assume because I was just going through the motions. My heart wasn’t in it because none of those answers were the right answer for me. They were probably the right answer for someone else in my life (since I’ve spent most of my life trying to be someone else. Not even the same someone else. Just someone else. Anyone but me.)
The only thing that comes close to an answer is writing. But not just any writing. It’s writing fiction when I have lots of ideas and I’m inspired and the words are pouring out of me. It’s writing fiction when I’m so consumed by it that I hate to have to stop for any reason, and when I must stop, I can’t wait to get back to it. It’s writing fiction that makes me wake up in the middle of the night because I dreamt a scene and had to write it down immediately. (Obviously, I keep a journal and a pen by the bed.) It’s writing fiction where I’m so deep in it that I feel like I’m actually in it.
Of course, I can’t always write like that. And I can’t force it. It has to happen naturally. It’s like waiting for lightning to strike. Sometimes, I have a storm. Some rain. Some wind. But no lightning. I need the lightning.
But I need something else. I need another passion. Something I do not have to wait for. (That sentence bothers me because it ends with a preposition. It should be “Something for which I do not have to wait,” but that sounds awkward. Sorry. The grammar police live in my head.) Besides, I’ll likely never publish anything I write, so while I may feel a level of passion for it, my writing is pointless, isn’t it?
So… how do I figure it out? How do I find what I enjoy? How do I find what I’m passionate about? (Ugh… grammar police again.) How do I find what gives my life meaning?
Right now, I exist for the sole purpose of being a mother. It’s not that my kids aren’t worth it. It’s that they are all I have. I don’t have anything else. I am just Mom. Nothing more. No part of me is simply me. There is no Sandra. There is only mom. (And I’m not even good at being a mom, so it’s a total fail.)
But… this post is pointless. No one can tell me what my passion is. I have to find it somewhere inside me.
So far, no luck.
• • • • •
I am pretty passionate about these guys.
p.s. — Is loneliness my problem? Does it cloud over everything else? Does it kill passion? God knows it’s killing me.
©2021 what sandra thinks
what sandra thinks 
Lots of thoughts to unpack from this post. I understand what you mean about the passion of writing, especially when you’re hitting on all cylinders and the words flow faster than the fingers can type them. When that happens, I have escaped my depression, at least for those moments (or hours if I’m lucky). And as you said, this can’t be forced. I have to wait for it and be present when it comes.
But, for me, the flip side is when it doesn’t come, when the desire to write fades (probably it’s a self-confidence thing with me). Then the idea of having a “passion” seems ridiculous and even lamentable because it is lost. (It’s hard to see with any long-term perspective when I’m in the dark pit.) When I can’t write my depression is reinforced.
Also, at least for creative writing, grammar is for chumps! We have the privilege and even the obligation to evolve the language. Grammar is merely of snapshot of the state of the language sometime in the past (generally one generation ago). Maybe your passion could be overcoming the grammar police!
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I can see from your comment that you certainly do understand what I’m talking about.
I feel similar to your flip side, also. When I lose the desire to write or I keep trying and nothing is coming out right, my depression worsens, and I lose any confidence I may have felt during those “writing moments”. And confidence is extremely rare for me to feel at all.
I do agree about grammar not necessarily having a place in creative writing. Within dialogue, for certain, but also pretty much everywhere. I think my issue may be more of a fear of the grammar police coming down on me if I don’t follow all the rules.
When lightning strikes, though, I don’t care about grammar. I just want to write as fast as I can before I lose what’s in my head. And that has to be pretty fast because my memory sucks.
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I hate the feeling of not having a passion or focus. It creates such a void in your life. I hope you find yours soon
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Thanks. Though, I really don’t think it’s likely. I’ve been searching for years. Maybe it’s tied to my being good at lots of things but not great at anything.
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Hmmmms maybe…..
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Well, that’s where you’re wrong! This post is not pointless, it entertained me. I found it interesting. It made me think. You have got back into the good habit of writing. It may not be what you want to be writing, but it is a restart. A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. You have taken that step, and more! Hugs, as always, and carry on writing.
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So my emptiness and purposelessness entertains you?!? I’m kidding. I know you didn’t mean it that way. I am not particularly happy with what I’ve been posting here because all of it feels like whining, and all of it is definitely self-centered. It’s hard when my life is so empty to find things to write about outside my own head.
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Inside your head are all sorts of interesting stories, you just have to let them out. They may be happy, they may be sad, maybe ugly, maybe sweet. First kiss, first love, first job, a great holiday, first steps of little ones. Let’s hear them!
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I feel like I’ve already written everything in my head. I can’t find new things because I’m so isolated at this point that there are no new things. I’ve become quite boring. All I do is try to be a good mother.
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Goodness me, I understand. All I can say is to hold on to what holds your attention now and let whatever come your way in terms of writing inspiration to happen. The Muse will spark eventually.
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Thanks. I think I’m just having trouble all around lately. It’s hard to focus!
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I feel you. I really do.
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I feel what you’re saying and there’s no silver bullet, you have to kind of look into yourself a bit and try things and see how they make you feel. Spend time in quiet by yourself and see what bubbles to the surface.
Who says you won’t publish? I bet you could and I’m sure you’re a great mum.
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Unless some publisher miraculously comes to me offering to publish my work, I won’t be publishing anything. I just don’t have the drive I need for that. Most of the time, I am shocked I even have the drive to write at all!
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I’m sure but you should keep writing for as long as you feel like you want to. The world needs it 🙂
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*sigh* I have the same feeling about writing. Wish I could get that back.
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Me too… I wish that for both of us.
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I find passion and pain go hand in hand. I know my sadness and depressive moments fuel me to be creative. Why? I wish I knew. Sometimes just crying leads me to be in a better state of mind afterwards, especially if I was more anxious than usual.
Ultimately I think being sad is wonderful , at least when it comes to expressive writing
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I used to feel this way. I think a lot of my poetry came out of sadness. But somewhere along the way, I passed some invisible barrier and I no longer feel creative when I’m sad or after I’ve cried. I usually just end up feeling… worse. It’s been a very long time since anything positive has come out of my depression.
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Well I can only speak from my own perspective. I don’t know where your depression comes from , my personal depression came from the abuse and abandonment I felt as a child, as I got older I began to ignore it and pretend like it didn’t bother me. After my ex wife cheated on me and wanted a divorce it all came back. So for about 2 years I’ve dealt with it , I’ve meditated. I’ve written so many posts in tumblr , 30+ posts of my poetry and did a lot of soul searching. I found my pain and while that little boy within is still hurt I’ve accepted it and use it for me to be more creative. I have also had and still have my depression moments which can last days and even weeks. What ever makes you depressed try to observe it from a third person POV , I’ve used mushrooms to help with this personally.
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I can’t point to anything specific as the source of my depression. I think there is just something fundamentally wrong with me. Maybe I was born this way… maybe not. Either way, though, there’s nothing for me to observe. It’s hard to get over/deal with/use something that I cannot identify.
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