Two and a half years ago, I was a plucky librarian who had a simple dream to start a BookTube channel with my sassy, metal giraffe cohost, Clarence. When I sat down to film my second video I had no idea my life was preparing itself to become a cesspool for a few years. I also had no idea how to light the shot or record sound properly, but that’s whatever because I believe I’ve sorted it out since then. Ordinarily I find bloggers or YouTubers explaining long absences to be a bore, but before I share this old video in an attempt to shame myself into making more I figure I should fill you in on why I abandoned this project after only two videos.
Two days after filming this, my ankle snapped in two places. Nine days after my first foot surgery I had the last conversation I would ever have with my dad. We had a pleasant chat about his scented candle addiction and how many new candles he ordered online which is pretty on brand and way better than the last conversation I had with my mom before she passed away so I’ll take it. Twelve excruciatingly long days after that, despite showing remarkable signs of improvement from his motorcycle accident, my father passed away. I received a new camera, tripod, and microphone exactly a month later for Christmas and proceeded to never make any videos using them. I tried a few times, but honestly, nothing has been more tempting than putting on Netflix and forgetting the world exists before going to bed to face the world another day. Especially once my stepmother and then 15 year old sister moved several states away less than a year after my dad died.
Needless to say, I gave up on a lot of things. I tried piecing myself back together and used a lot of horrible coping mechanisms along the way which resulted in a lot more misery than I needed and a few terminated friendships. Don’t worry…I made new friends along the way and cloaked myself in a nihilist exoskeleton to deal with the rest, but it’s still been rough. Around the two year anniversary of my dad’s passing, I entered the second worst depressive episode I can recall. I genuinely believed I was going to take myself out of the equation and sought intensive treatment. The hospital was not as helpful as I thought it would be and only served to make me feel more alone and defeated.
I wish I had a step by step solution on how I got out of this funk, but honestly… I’m still sorting it out. I can confirm I am not actively suicidal and believe I am in the clear on that front. Now that I’ve thoroughly depressed you, enjoy this video about an absurd book I adore.