From my journal for September 29, 1997
So how has my writing changed? Being “literary” is no longer top priority. I no longer find myself thinking “This is one of the great journals of the world,” no longer fantasize someone “discovering” me. I no longer write for a “reader,” except for myself in the future, I no longer write to justify my life. And because I’m not in constant pain from depression or anxiety, I don’t feel pressure to write to try and “fix” it. Yes, I see that a lot of my writing in the past was an attempt to assuage or manage anxiety, and the root of the anxiety was (a) physiological, combined with or enhanced by (b) the belief that I’m not worth anything just as I am, and that I “do everything wrong.”
I find this very interesting. I’m not sure what I mean by “the root of the anxiety was physiological,” since I don’t yet know that the root of the anxiety is PTSD. Perhaps I just thought that I had a dysfunctional physiology. I also seem to think that I “no longer” believe that I’m worthless, and it’s going to take many years to change that belief. I also seem to find the anxiety more important than the depression. I still haven’t found out what it’s like to not be depressed.