so, as i’ve said on more than one occasion in this journal, i’m sure, “i haven’t written anything in quite some time.” i’ve tried on more than one occasion to do so, but haven’t been able to find anything to write about. i could chalk it up to writer’s block, but as i sit here forcing words out, i feel like there’s more to it than that. what could it be?

the entries have become increasing scarce over the last year or so. strange, its about a year ago that i started ‘feeling better.’ could it be that as my depression left me, so did my will to write? or rather, my creativity? i’ve tried to write journal entries. i’ve tried to write stories. i’ve even tried to edit and rework old stories. nothing. i’ve been able to come up with squat! years ago i used to say, half jokingly, that i was afraid if my depression vanished, so would my personality, my unique humor and worldview, so would my creativity. now, here i am, seemingly better, and now i’m starting to worry that i have, in fact, lost those things.

here’s another example of what i’m talking about…. the state democratic convention was a couple of weeks ago. i attended as a delegate and a member of the newly formed progressive democrats of hawaii. since january of this year, i have been highly involved in the organization (i recently was elected to fill a position on the steering committee). i had a great time at the convention. a fabulous time. and i had very little fear. i was only slightly timid when talking to people and even started a conversation or two… with total strangers!

for those of you that know me, this is completely not characteristic of me. i don’t do well in large crowds. i don’t do well talking to strangers. and i certainly don’t do well starting conversations with strangers. yet, despite my history, i seemed to have far less trouble at the convention. things were so exciting and fun and fast paced that i didn’t even have a chance to process this. hell, i barely had a chance to sleep. it was only as i was packing up my car with leftovers and driving home that the reality of the weekend began to set in. i panicked just a bit.

i don’t think someone who’s been mentally healthy their whole life could possibly understand what it is i’m talking about. think about it, though. what if you woke up tomorrow and felt like a different person? you could remember how you were yesterday, but don’t know how you got to a place where you worldview was different, the way you felt about yourself was different, the way you related to people was different. don’t you think that might freak you out just a bit? well, it certainly freaked me out. the shock has subsided and i’m coping, but this is a feeling and a reality that no one warned me about. i wasn’t prepared to be this different.

now, don’t get me wrong, i’m not saying this is a bad thing… at least not entirely a bad thing. no. this is a good thing. i feel 100 times better than i did two or three or ten years ago. but i worry what the cost was. have i lost the creativity i once had? have i lost that sharp, dry, dark, sarcastic sense of humor that i used to define myself and how i described the world around me? i don’t think so, at least i hope not. but how do i go about adjusting to this huge change in personality? i wasn’t prepared.