I don’t have a large following, so I was #shookt when Niall, an English professor from Ireland, followed me. In turn, I’m giving these people, whom I’ve been following for months and whose blogs inspire me to write, a chance to speak.
With the majority of the population still turning a blind eye on mental health issues and with the stigma around it, admitting that you are mentally impaired is synonymous to claiming that you are crazy, psychotic, pathetic, crybaby, or whatever names they call mental health sufferers.
Writing the pain as I go through it makes each battle a little bearable, but putting the word out there for the world to see used to make me uncomfortable.
I won’t sugarcoat it: anxiety is ugly. Not only does it make me feel a thousand emotions at a time, but it also triggers my depression big time. As a creative who writes for a living, I discovered there’s an upside to all this.
I don’t find the time to blog. I believe if an idea does not come out of me naturally, there’s no point hitting that “Write” button and trying to come up with a made-up vision just for the sake of publishing something.
Although I believe well-read people have advantages over those who aren’t, being a bibliophile does not give us a free pass to insult the intellectual capacity of non-readers.
Autocorrecting a grammar mistake when I see one has been imprinted in my personality, so having a nine-to-five job that involves editing and proofreading is a no-brainer for me. It’s like doing what I do best but being paid to do it.