Introduction
There are days when the words flow like rivers. And then there are days when I stare at the page, heart heavy, fingers still, wondering how I ever wrote anything at all.
I live with mental health challenges, bipolar depression, anxiety, ADHD, and a personality disorder that most people still don’t understand. And I’m a writer. Which means I build entire worlds while trying not to fall apart in my own.
This is not a guide or a miracle solution. It’s simply how I keep writing through the fog, the chaos, the silence, and the storm.
Creativity Isn’t Always Light
People assume creativity is a spark, bright, joyful, and free. But for some of us, it’s a survival instinct.
Writing is how I process pain, how I scream quietly, how I take something broken and shape it into beauty.
But mental illness complicates that. Depression flattens inspiration. Anxiety screams that nothing I write is good enough. ADHD steals focus in the middle of a sentence. And the personality shifts? They can make me feel like a dozen different authors arguing over one pen.
And yet, I still write. Not always easily. But always honestly.
What I Do When the Storm Hits
These are my anchors when I’m writing through the dark:
- I Lower the Bar.
Some days, writing a single sentence is a victory. So I let that sentence be enough. - I Let My Characters Speak When I Can’t.
When I’m silent, they’re not. Sometimes, they carry the emotions I can’t name. Sometimes, they’re angry for me. - I Create, Even if It’s Ugly.
Drafts don’t need to be perfect. They need to be real. Messy. Bloody. True. - I Use Music as a Bridge.
Music is memory and emotion. If I can’t write words, I’ll write through the music scene by scene, beat by beat. - I Stop Punishing Myself for Pauses.
Sometimes the storm is too strong. Sometimes I need to rest. That doesn’t make me lazy; it makes me human.
The Shame That Tries to Creep In
Mental health struggles come with a cruel whisper: “You’re not doing enough.”
I’ve had days where I hated everything I created. Days when I couldn’t get out of bed, let alone open a document.
And I’ve felt the guilt. The fear that I was falling behind. That I’d lost my gift.
But writing isn’t something you lose.
It waits.
Even in silence, your mind is still working and still dreaming and still surviving.
Why I Keep Writing Anyway
Because it’s the one thing that always gives something back.
It doesn’t judge. It doesn’t rush.
It lets me bleed safely.
Writing gives shape to my hurt. It reminds me that I can create through the chaos, not just after it has passed. It shows me that I am more than my illness, I am a stormwalker with ink on my hands and fire in my chest.
To Anyone Else Fighting This Fight
You are not failing.
You are not broken.
And your art is not less worthy because it was born in the dark.
If all you do today is imagine a sentence, that’s enough. If you need to rest before you write, do it. The stories inside you are still there.
Keep creating even if it’s a whisper.
Even if it’s slow.
Even if it’s just one word at a time.
Final Thoughts
I am still learning to balance my mind and my muse. Some days, they work together. Some days, they don’t.
But I write anyway. Through the storm. Through the stillness.
Because it’s not about waiting for the sky to clear.
It’s about learning to hold the pen even when it rains.
