Lately, I haven’t had the drive to blog. I kept thinking about it, procrastinating over it and starting endless drafts which are currently in the trash. I can’t understand why I lost my motivation. Is this how writers feel when they hit the dreaded block? Cause, as the weeks passed, my life seem to be a bit more boring than last year. Most of my motivation stemmed from the exciting life I lived last year. However I can’t seem to be that person I once was last year.
It seemed like I was fearless last year, taking dangerous train trips in and around Cape Town alone, walking around the dodgy neighborhood my college campus is situated in alone and all round reckless behavior (recklessly fun, I might add) but, it seems like that me, the person who I’m referring to, has disappeared. I often wondered what it could be, as I reviewed my personality and what was actually happening in my life during that time and I figured that I’m either depressed, or I have multiple personalities disorder (which I definitely don’t). It was only yesterday, whilst sitting in Eastern Food Bazaar with one of my favorite people, that I realized that I was actually depressed. Like real depression, the type that makes you become a recluse, neglect your friendships and all that jazz. The funniest thing of it all is that I don’t even like Indian food, I was sitting there doing absolutely nothing when I realized that I honestly have a real problem.
About a week ago I went and sort of got help. I went to the psychologist, very sweet woman that kind of sucks at understanding the deeper meaning of what you’re actually trying to say but what do you expect from a free clinical psychologist, she referred me to a psychiatrist and now I’m fixed [Sort of]. I’m yet to feel like that adventurously independent woman I was last year. The excitement of it all is that I’ve found my drive again, the urge to blog has returned and I am grateful. To the women who have helped me fix myself! Thank you!