Wow. Four years sure flies when you're depressed, huh? Among other things, the suicide of a family member in 2009 sent me into a tailspin that lasted this long. I was still able to write a little, but two years ago, that dried up at well.

So I've been pretty much just existing (barely) until the death of Robin Williams, which you wouldn't think affected me as my as the family suicide, but somehow did. When I was really, really depressed, he was who I would watch to stay afloat, but I haven't been able to watch him since.

Believe it or not, this was a blessing in disguise. Things were becoming so dire that my psychiatrist suggested a change in medication. I'd been avoiding that, because the last time I'd tried, things hadn't gone so well. This time, however, they just lowered the dosage of my current medicine and added the low dosage of a second and within days... DAYS ! I was writing again, I was cleaning a living area that had been neglected for years. My health had also been neglected, so badly that I now have type 2 diabetes, but at least now I'm able to deal with it better and take care of other aspects I've been neglecting like my teeth and my eyes.

But I still don't care about my physical health as much as I do about the fact that I'm writing. I'm writing . I could just fill up the rest of this post with those two words. The third novel, which had been half finished and in cold storage for two years is now about two or three chapters from completion. The first time I got out more than a paragraph, I actually teared up.

Anyway, to those that are still following this journal, thanks for sticking it out. I'm hoping to post regularly somewhere from now on, whether here of on Twitter (VBKildaire) where I mostly just stalk my favorite celebrities.

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