Life Update: Am I Fixed?

Reading is a form of therapy for me. My actual therapist agrees wholeheartedly about this. If I'm not writing and not reading, she gets concerned.

It's probably a form of therapy to you, too. I mean, isn't a point of reading to get lost in another reality separate from our own? We don't want to step away from emotions or troubles, but to step away from our emotions and troubles and reality.

As of today, I've read 22 books this year. That's a huge number for me, especially in a short amount of time. To me, that speaks volumes. There's been something in my reality that I've been desperately trying to escape. I still can't say what that is.

I've been in an all-around funk and it's been weird and sucky. It's been plaguing me for months. Like since Oct/Nov, whenever it was that I finished Nepenthe. It's almost like an I-don't-know-what-to-do-with-myself feeling. Or kind of like a I-have-no-desire/energy type of thing.

It annoys the hell out of me because things have been good. For the most part, I've felt great. But there's something not quite right in the mix of it all and the unknowing of what or why makes me more rattled than anything else.

Usually a reading-binge fixes me, fixes me emotionally and fixes my lack of desire to write. But this funk has been like a veil hanging over regular everyday stuff. We'll consider it luck that it's only truly affected my writing. It's mostly been with my solos because Mary and I have pretty much been writing machines with the exception of this past week. Still, I've felt off.

Reading hasn't helped. Or at least, not in the way I'm used to. My reading-binges consists of three-to-four days of reading every free chance I get. Priorities are tossed to the side unless it's an absolute must. I've been reading more and more lately. I've been trying to escape something I can't put my finger on to identify. That in and of itself is annoying because I like to know what's bugging me. How can I solve a problem if I don't know the problem?

For 22 books, I've been trying to "fix" myself. For the most part, I've been failing. The off feeling is still there when the book ends, which leads me to pick up another and another and another.

But I think I've finally ended my funk.

The other day, I was super excited because I was writing in a solo. I only wrote about 400 words, but it felt amazing because that invested/obsessed feeling was there again.

It left as quickly as it appeared.

So what did I do?

I read three books in three days. I closed off everything else in life and read.

And tonight? I feel FANTASTIC.

Finally.

I feel energized, happy, and ready to tackle all the projects I'm working on.

There's a chance it'll be gone by morning, but I'm feeling pretty optimistic. If not, I have bookcases and a Kindle full of books waiting to be read until something bends in my favor and I can work out my issue. This blog post started with the title of Am I Fixed? That's still up in the air for the long-term, but for the moment, I am. That's good enough for me.