Looking ahead in February, I thought March was going to be a good month. Vaccines are getting out here, spring is on the way, the sun is out more often. But close to a week in now, March has felt like being trapped by a dark rain cloud. Everything I do, I just wonder why I’m bothering.

When I’m writing, I feel like I’m writing the same story over and over. And it feels like it’s a story that’s been told a million times already (Yes, some part of me knows there’s very few themes most stories revolve around but that part of me is not the loud part right now). Everything art related I work on, I feel like it belongs in the trash as I’m working on it. Usually I listen to songs on repeat for months. Now, I’m tired of them after a week, at most. Food even just feels boring. Even chocolate (I know, I didn’t think it was possible either).

But I just keep going anyway.

I’ve written over 10,000 words on two wips, edited three short stories, reworked two scenes, and wrote two poems. I hate them all, but they exist. The art I’ve worked on I have titled: I Hate This; I Hate This, Too; and This Is Terrible. But they exist.

I use playlists Spotify makes so that there’s new random stuff in there. I try new recipes or put together atypical (for me, anyway) things like my recent sandwiches (vegan cheese + pickles + mustard, and peanut butter + pickles + mild peppers + hot sauce). I use a light therapy light to try to convince my brain things are happy and bright.

None of it is magically fixing how I feel, but it gives my brain something to do and it’s not making it worse. If I don’t keep moving, I know I’ll sink deeper. Most days I feel like I’m holding on by my fingertips. I’ve been here before, trapped in the storm cloud. It’s ugly and I hate it here and it can feel like it’s never going to end. But I also know, from experience, that eventually the sun will come back through the dark cloud. And maybe when I can see it clearly, I will find something not terrible in all the writing and art that I currently hate. I have to keep reminding myself of this, or I’ll let the cloud convince me otherwise, which is part of why I’m writing this, as a reminder to myself.