Discouragement During the Holidays, 2020 Edition

Ornament Closeup

Discouragement, Depression, and Disappointment: Holidays 2020 Edition

I try to be honest here on this blog, and so, in the name of honesty, I’m talking about something I’m sure a lot of you are feeling this year around the holidays – discouragement, depression, and disappointment. And of course, writers live in a world of constant rejection, it seems – so they are more prone to this than others.

So, in the name of honesty, this week, I received some really crushing rejections – of book manuscripts, of jobs I applied for, and you know if you read this blog, this last month has brought its share of losses and stresses, including my grandmother. One of my publishers – New Binary Press – is closing, sadly.  I feel like the universe says been saying a lot of “no” to me lately, and not a lot of yes. Physically, mentally, emotionally, I think this year has really taken it out of me. Even thinking about the new year feels exhausting. Like, yes, it might be better, but it’s going to be a while before the vaccine gets distributed and the economy recovers and Biden can right the many wrongs of Trump’s last four nightmare years. I don’t know, as an immune-compromised person, when I’m going to feel “safe” seeing friends and family again, besides outdoors and socially distanced (which is easier here in the summer than the winter). I’ve struggled with my health this year – mostly from long, serious complications from my first two root canals ever – even without seeing people, I ended up in the hospital a couple of times, which seems unfair – like, I’m shielding, I never do anything, and my body still manages to find a way to get sick? Gah.

I’ve written a lot this year, so it hasn’t been a lack of writing. I’m even a little proud of some of this year’s accomplishments, such as they are. But searching for a part-time job, trying to get these two manuscripts I’ve been shopping around a home, even just sending out individual packet of work – all feel like they have ended in despair, not celebration. I even tried to write a novel for NaPoWriMo – I’ve never done that before – and tried for a couple of grants that were difficult and daunting ot even apply for. I’ve been trying, is what I think I’m trying to say, but not getting exactly a ringing sound of endorsement from said universe.

I think about giving up on my dream of being a writer, sometimes, honestly. This year especially. I was good at my job as a tech writing manager, I liked advertising writing and working in publishing as an acquisitions editor for technical books. I liked getting a steady paycheck and the nice feeling of people praising you for a job well done – very absent in the poetry world, you may notice, except for a chosen few. I liked feeling useful instead of useless. When I was healthier and younger, I spent almost as much time volunteering as I did working – and I was sort of a workaholic. I miss being able to “do things” for people, physically, that I used to be able to do. I resent my disability, honestly, my immune system’s weakness and the symptoms of MS – vertigo, nausea, muscle weakness at odd times – and the feeling of a shrinking life those things can bring. I love my husband, who has always been very supportive of my writing career, and I’m happy he’s embarking on his own adventure, getting his first Master’s Degree, but I wonder: what’s next for me?

Anyway, I apologize for this downbeat post. All writers feel discouraged at some point. I hope your holiday will have a lot of joy, comfort, and light in it.