(Or ups and downs and the inevitable return of the Crisis of Confidence.)
I have a habit of becoming hermit-like every so often, even more than normal, and recently has been one of those periods. It’s annoying (a bloody pain to be honest) but it’s just something that has happened for years, easily since I hit my 20′s.
Now, I know this recent one is not a relapse of the poor mental health that plagued me last year. Generally I’ve been quite chipper. Work trundles on, they throw me some shifts if they’re feeling benevolent (joke, joke), Aurora is blossoming and Ruthy is as lovely as ever. A good and erstwhile chum is back from down south, it’s always good to have him around, and I have no reason to feel like this.
Yet I do.
Of course, the usual reason my mood suffers is due to the pressure I put myself under with my writing. Same old, same old. Perhaps I’m just going through the same mood I hit when I had my last whinge.
Ah, bugger. Prog beckons, I think. That should break me out of it.
- Alistair
