I get post-partum depression.
When I gave birth to an actual human infant, I was fine afterwards. Terrified, as you get when you are handed a new living being, but otherwise fine. But when I finish a novel, or a proposal, I’m tossed into a deep blue funk for several days afterwards. This is where I am now. The proposal came out well. I have high hopes, but I’m also slouching around in a bad temper. Everything worries me, everything gets on my nerves. It’s the only part of my version of the writing life that I don’t like (well, aside from the sporadic paychecks).
I just wish I knew what caused this. I firmly believe myself to be a good writer, so it’s not imposter syndrome (that comes at other times). It’s not like I fear writer’s block. I’ve always got an idea, or twelve, clamoring for my attention. I really don’t know what this is.
I am, however, perfectly aware that if this is as bad as it gets, I am doing quite well indeed. And by now, this has happened often enough that husband and friends are aware of what’s going on, and not only tolerate, but support me. Which moves me into the category of Extremely Lucky.
Which is one thing guaranteed to make me feel better. That, and a good movie. Or a good baseball game. Think I’ll go see what the Tigers are doing.
See you all on the other side.