Writing

I was just chatting with a friend about the need to write. She's the sort of person for whom writing is a much-needed creative outlet. She a good one, too; she writes thoughtful, lyrical blog posts, and often has me giggling at her tweets.

Me? Sometimes I need to write; sometimes I have something to say that needs to be said *just* right, in that polished way you can only get by writing and rewriting. Here's the thing tho: depression stops me.
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When I was in college, I found that I had good ideas for papers, and good theses, but my execution sucked. I could actually feel the mental fog that blocked the way between my ideas and their manifestation. Nearly a decade later, on medication and pursuing lighter topics, I still have the fog. It's lighter now, and I can often make out the path between A and N, but..... I have allowed inertia to prevail, and I turn my creative energy to outlets like knitting.

Depression still affects my knitting, any glance at my mess of half-finished projects will reveal that, but it doesn't matter as much. These projects will wait patiently for me to return to them. This is not to say that writing won't, but when it comes to blogging, I feel the pressure of all the posts I haven't written, all the (probably imagined) reader expectations I haven't fulfilled, and it stops me dead. So I knit, and sometimes sew, and mostly don't blog.