I've been avoiding writing this post for almost a month. I try to write an end-of-year book review and give an update about my writing life at the very least for my few readers, but I've been afraid to do even that.
Last year around this time I was so inspired, and then my motivation just slipped away. I could blame it on circumstances, e.g. work, sickness, but that wouldn't be fair. I stopped writing because I lacked the discipline to keep to the schedule I made myself, and the guilt I feel from that is justified.
Eighteen poems--that's all I wrote last year. I can do better, and I will.
And this year, I will read more too. In my last post I lamented only having read seven books over the course of the year and promised myself to blast past that number and get back to an average I considered to be more suitable for myself.
In the areas of my life which matter most, I feel I've fallen apart.
2015 was not an outstanding year for me, and 2016 certainly hasn't started out with a bang, but I am working on cobbling things back together. I am extremely fortunate in that I have an amazingly supportive husband, who is there for me no matter if I write or don't.
Over the last couple months particularly, I have been struggling with my depression. It's not something I speak about publicly often, and I don't think I've ever mentioned it here. So, here it is. I have both generalized anxiety and a major depressive disorder. For a long time, it's been controlled by medication, but a couple months ago that all changed due to circumstances out of my control. The road to recovery, or at least normalcy, has been rocky to say the least. But, I am reading again. I am putting down video games and other distractions and letting my brain work out a bit instead of letting myself coast.
This blog post may be the first thing I've written this year, but it certainly won't be the last. I will have a happy update the next time I write here. I will.
Books I read in 2015:
The Serpent of Venice - Christopher Moore
Hyperbole and a Half - Allie Brosh*
The Tenderest Lover - Walt Whitman* (recommended if you like Whitman's poetry)
Cat's Cradle - Kurt Vonnegut
Coraline - Neil Gaiman* (a very welcome re-read)
I also read most of Small Victories by Anne Lamott but had to put it down about 3/4 the way through. It made me unbearably sad in a myriad of ways. So rather than torture myself just to finish it, I put it back on the shelf.
My husband and I also read Game of Thrones out loud to each other off and on throughout the year. We didn't quite finish by December 31st, but it should still get an honorable mention (even if it's a re-read for me).
So, seven-ish books is the grand total (yet again).
My uncle, who dearly loved reading, passed away in October last year. My aunt was so good as to let me go through his books and take whichever ones I wanted as she said he'd want someone who loves books to have them. So, in addition to the shelf of books I have to read, I have a couple more stacks. I have my work cut out for me, but I'll do my uncle (and all else who love me) proud this year.