Pre letter: I suggest that you listen to 'Yola - Hold On' while reading this special letter.

(Just because I stopped making music doesn't mean I stopped listening to it, although I did for some time. I've had 'Yola - Hold On' on my playlist for a few weeks now and it's only now that I understand and relate to it. Don't worry, you'll understand soon.)

Dear Reader

There are 52 weeks in a year and 'Scott McCall, the Mikaelson' has 52 chapters uploaded so far.

It has been my pleasure to deliver these chapters but like each year rejuvenates every 52 weeks, I need to rejuvenate as well.

I was diagnosed with depression in 2016 and responded poorly by being in denial and not doing what I was supposed to do to manage my depression.

I didn't follow up on the diagnosis. I ignored it and made a song about it, questioning why I would have depression when all I thought about was music.

Music helped me stay in denial until I lost my passion for it, although it was my greatest desire to pursue a career in the music industry since primary school.

If someone told me that I would be studying Studio Engineering in 2019 with free and full access to everything a music maker needs, including recording and mastering studios, and yet feel unenthused and detached from the experience, I wouldn't have believed it.

But that's what happened and now I don't know my purpose in life.

At first, I read for inspiration for songwriting and creativity. Books became my muses.

But as time went on, I lost focus on music and started to enjoy reading just for the sake of reading and getting lost in the stories.

I stopped watching motion pictures and lost myself in books, sleeping as little as I could while using my waking hours to read.

Some days I didn't sleep at all, too lost in stories and one day, after two years of obsessive reading, I found myself with more than 400 books.

And I had read all of them, including 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series (all five books, and probably in record time) and still had more books waiting for me (sad truth, I don't remember even a quarter of a quarter of those books).

But as time went on, I lost interest in professionally written books and found my way to fan fiction and lost myself in it.

I'm not sure how I came across fan fiction websites and stories but I enjoyed the world of fan fiction, reading story after story after story with no end in sight.

Until I exhausted my favourite fandom/character's fan fiction stories and could not find any more interesting ones.

It was horrible. The sudden stop in momentum. It was horrible.

More than horrible because it gave me what felt like too much time (although it wasn't that long, less than a week, maybe less than five days) to finally acknowledge my depression.

But by the time I finally acknowledged my depression, it was no longer just depression. I had anxiety as well. Social anxiety.

I should have realized it when the thought of going to town and driving lessons terrified me.

But I didn't because I ignored my depression diagnosis in 2016 and the medication I was prescribed.

I know now that although I was diagnosed in 2016, following years of migraines, I probably had depression before then.

Who am I kidding, I know for a fact I was already experiencing depression (and anxiety on some level and rare panic attacks) before 2016, going back to 2009.

The thing is, I had an outlet (and escape) in music, as a creator and listener, and that outlet turned to books.

Until I had nothing more to read due to loss of interest.

That's when I started writing fan fiction stories and fell in love with writing. I completed a few stories before I posted some that I wanted to share with you. Yes, you. :-)

I always wanted to write a book, an original book, but could never get beyond half a page, until I started writing fan fiction.

If you're reading this, then you know that I managed to write more than half a page.

Thank you for being a witness.

But it's time that I finally do what is best for me in the long run and focus on me and my mental health.

The beginning of the year 2020 saw me take a single tiny step towards facing the truth and doing something about it, which was spending less than five minutes with the most important person in my life (my mother, and hence the song) a day (though not every day in the beginning) just in her presence without the intention of speaking with her.

Just to be in her presence. You would be amazed at what one's presence can do even in silence.

Before that less than five minutes, I avoided people and limited small talk to tiny talk, if at all.

Little by little, tiny step by tiny step, I managed to increase that less than five minutes to five minutes, more than five minutes and then to where I am right now.

I know there's no end to managing one's mental health just as there is no end to managing one's emotional health, physical health and spiritual health and everything in between.

It's a process and I'm ready for it now.

There's this saying in my mother tongue (Sesotho):

Ho ya morao hoa motho ha se ho baleha empa ke ho nka matla.

In English, it's something like:

To retreat is not to run away (or give up) but to gather strength.

Gathering strength is exactly what I'm doing.

See you around and sorry for disappointing you by not posting Chapter 53.

I tried to complete it but weeks passed and I couldn't, not like I have with the other chapters and it didn't feel right forcing it.

This feels right even though I know the terrible feeling of having a story you enjoy a lot goes on hiatus.

It's worth it though because when I return I'll be in a state of mind to deliver.

Resuming all the stories I have posted is one of my goals and I'll do my best to reach it.

Thank you for your support. Yes, you. You have no idea how much you've helped me. Thank you very much. I appreciate you.

I appreciate you too, future reader. Yep, you. :-) You're appreciated and thank you.

Regards

IAmKIM

An African young man and your fellow Earthling

PS

If you're going through something, keep going. (Something I think Marin Morrell would say in a situation like this. She did say something like this once, after all, and she survived Deucalion's decade long reign of terror.)