Going through my aunt’s things (the one who passed in January) we came across her journals. She spoke about her depression as well as other demons she was battling. I won’t go into any type of details because she was a very very private person. Most of what she spoke of didn’t really catch me off guard because I could sense it. As I said in a previous post, I felt like I really go to understand her shortly before she died. I could see the many similarities between us which is why her talk of depression didn’t startle me. Anyways, a book I have been working on (or not really working on) revolves around a character who is battling depression, an eating disorder, a verbally abusive boyfriend as well as other things. I’ve struggled with writing this story as well as other story ideas I have. I will say that out of the 5 or 6 ideas that I’ve half assed over the past few years this is the very last idea I had that came to me about 1 1/2 ago. Now more than ever I feel like I need to finish it. I don’t think mental illness in the black community is talked about enough and is just brushed under the rug. I feel like I need to finish this for my aunt. There’s so much of my in this title character and now I see that there may be a little bit of her in there too. I wish I had to drive to just sit down and get it all out. That’s how my writing process was when I was younger. It’s sort of frustrating that that’s not how I operate anymore. Once I can finally get over that frustration hurdle I can get these stories out to the world, especially this one.

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