Why I wrote a book.

Synthetica is nearly here.

Tomorrow, I will finally be releasing my baby into the wild for it to fend for itself. I'll still be here if it needs to be fed, or comforted or if it wants to come home for a little while, but really, it's time it stood on it's own two legs.

There's not really much else I can say. I've freaked out about the launch, I've put up a little teaser from the book, I've posted up my writing playlist, I've told you about the inspiration behind the book, and I've revealed my book cover.

There is really only one last thing I wanted to share with you all, and that's the reason why I finally got my act together and wrote a book, instead of just sitting here still daydreaming about it.

The reason is my state of mind.

You've probably seen me mention passing references to my mental health and my anxiety in this blog. The time is coming soon, I think, when I'll let you know the whole horrible story behind it, but as I'm still trying to wrap my head around my book launch and get ready for the A to Z blogging challenge, that day is not today. All you need to know is that a few years ago in my second year of uni, I suffered a panic attack which led to a nervous breakdown (which is a tad ironic because at the time, I was having the best time of my life). The lingering effect of this, is that to this day I still suffer from high anxiety - it's nowhere near as bad as it used to be, but it's definitely still there and it gets so much worse if I'm tired. And I also have a horrible suspicion that it's led to a few episodes of depression, though, as I'll explain later, I don't trust going to the doctors to get it officially diagnosed.

Anyway, back then, I didn't know what I was dealing with. Mental health was never a topic that was discussed in school, which led me to believe I was indeed going mad. It took me a long, long time to come to the realisation that I wasn't mad - I was just human.

But during my darkest days, I couldn't bring myself to do anything. I didn't want to meet up with any of my friends, I didn't want to talk to my family, I didn't want to go outside. I just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. Which I did. A lot.

I don't recall when the turning point came, but I do know it took me at least two years to get back to anything resembling normal. But I lost such a big portion of my life, that it made me realise something - I'm not willing to wait around anymore. I'm done with being helpless. I'm done with thinking that I'm a failure and that I have no control over my future or my life. Because I do. I'm the one that's in control of my life, not my anxiety.

It's taken a couple of false starts, and writing novels which came to a sudden dead end because the plot wasn't going anywhere, but guess what? I did it. Through all my securities, and my anxiety and my black periods where I didn't want to communicate with anyone, I did it. I wrote a book. And now I know that I can do it again. And again. And again. As many times as I like. Or not, if I choose not to write anymore. The point is, it's up to me.

I often raise an eyebrow when I see people saying' oh, I wrote my book for me, not for anyone else to read' but y'know what? I did write Synthetica for myself. I wrote Synthetica to show myself that I am capable of doing something with my life, that I'm more than capable of following my dreams and making my dreams a reality. All I have to do is to keep working at it, and keep writing.

I will never let my mental health define me. I will never let it restrict the choices I have in my life, or make me think that I'm worthless, or that all this has been for nothing. Because at the end of the day, whether you choose to read Synthetica or not (although I sincerely hope you will), I wrote this book for me. And I finished writing it for me.

And I'm damn proud of that.