Metaphorically Speaking, or, “Oh Shit, I Published A Story”

24 Jun

CW: suicidal thoughts (mention)

So in the midst of all of this, I got to see my first ever piece of published fiction.

It’s called Gephyrophobia, and you can read it at Strange Horizons, here or listen to the podcast here. I’ve listened to it A LOT, smiling like a DAMNED LUNATIC the whole time. I’m not usually an audiobook person, but HOT DAMN is it cool as fuck to listen to someone reading my story.

I have a lot to say about this whole event, because It’s A Big Damn Deal. I’m proud and excited and grateful and did I mention I am hella proud of myself and my little story? I am hella proud. Seeing my name and my fiction housed in the same place as some of my favorite authors of all time has given me energy and clarity to keep working for my goals, and it doesn’t hurt that people seem to like it a lot. I have a tattoo planned to commemorate this event. So yes, I have a lot to say about this major professional and personal milestone. But I’m very tired right now, so I’m only going to say one thing.

A few months ago I realized I was at a crossroads. I couldn’t keep on like I had been. I couldn’t fucking do it. There was no plan–yet–but after struggling for so long, I was pretty much ready to give up. I had basically two choices: try to get help, or “sleep forever,” which, if I may be frank, was the way I talked about killing myself without actually admitting that I wanted to die. Fortunately, I had the tools and support to get help. I got into therapy. I got diagnosis. I got on antidepressants. I got tools. And that’s why I’m still alive. 

At therapy today we talked extensively about how I don’t know where I’m going. I have only very vague ideas about where I hope this journey will take me: to peace, to the chance to rest, to enjoy. We’re working on defining those goals, making them achievable.  It’s slow going, because I am exhausted to the point where I sometimes can’t conceive of ever feeling anything else. I don’t know if I can do it, tbh. But I am trying, and that’s what’s important: I am doing something, because where I was…that place was comfortable, it was familiar, but it was not sustainable.

And in the midst of all this, my first professional story got published, and I realized it was about the aftermath of portal fantasy gone wrong, but it was also about doing something because you can’t stay where you’re at.

I never know what a story is actually about until after the fact.

I started taking ADHD medication this morning. My hands are shaking a bit, but for maybe the first time, my brain is quiet.

One Response to “Metaphorically Speaking, or, “Oh Shit, I Published A Story””

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. “My Broken House Behind Me and Good things ahead”: I’m Still Here | What Is This I Can't Even - September 8, 2019

    […] therapy regularly; got diagnosed with ADHD; gone on medication for ADHD, depression, and anxiety; sold my first short story; dug deep and sorted out a lot of trauma and realized I’m bisexual; finished drafts of two […]

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