I disappeared because I couldn't handle it.

This is really hard for me to write.

Some of you know that I was soldiering. I'm not in the army anymore. The early years were good for me; I felt like I got a lot out of it for a while. Eventually, though, I started to see diminishing returns. So things were becoming disappointing, but not terrible at that moment. Towards the end, though, I fell under the command of people who were stupid and abusive. I was constantly on edge because I had no idea when they were going email, call, or come and find me for some indignity, and because of the rigid hierarchy, I had no recourse. Every day, my chest was tight, my world felt grey, and I dreaded each moment of being chained to my role. Getting off duty was only a tiny relief because I knew that I'd be up early and back the next day. Were I a civilian, I would have quit on the spot, but my contract didn't allow that. I wasn't sleeping well at all, and the only reason I dragged myself out of bed and into work is because I knew I could be threatened with jail if I didn't.
All I ever wanted to do was be the best I could be at my job. I couldn't handle it anymore. I had the end date of my contract moved ahead, and after a delay, I got out.

The army didn't leave me mentally well. I became racked with depression and social anxiety. I've weathered bouts of depression before, but social anxiety was a new one. I've always been a bit of an introvert, but a relatively outgoing one; I'd never been afraid to talk to people before. I used to get excited when I got messages, notes, and mail, and I liked talking to others. After that, though, I stopped answering my phone. I didn't look at my emails. I stopped checking social media. I didn't answer the door when someone knocked. I went invisible or offline, didn't participate in my art groups, didn't go to any conventions, didn't answer my phone, didn't open my mail, and stopped talking to almost all of my friends. Any time someone tried to get a hold of me, even when they were being really sweet, it made my heart jump into my throat.

At the same time, I had a bunch of money problems arise. When I stopped soldiering, my income took a hit. I had already been shouldering the majority of expenses in my household when my tablet and computer both ended up with hardware failures that I couldn't afford to fix.

I had a handful of commissions ongoing then. They were all nearly complete except for one. I left my clients hanging; I didn't have it in me to even talk to anyone. When I tried, I had panic attacks. I've been so ashamed that I faltered on my obligations. That shame and anxiety and guilt has kept me away for far too long. I hated myself for it. I got tired of losing sleep over it.
It's been lonely.

I find this equally frustrating and ironically funny. In 2009, I walked into a recruitment office and basically told them to give me a gun and put me out front, specifically because I thought it would be the most challenging thing I could do — but it's just socializing, of all things that, fills me with dread. This is even after I got into psyops, where it was my job to communicate.

I did end up going to therapy. I'm thankful for socialized medicine, because I wouldn't have been able to afford it otherwise. It wasn't a complete cure — even logging into here and Twitter makes me feel like I have a cinderblock on my chest — but I really enjoyed my sessions, and it did help. Between that, a lot of time, and finally having the means to fix my mistakes, I feel ready to be back.

I miss my communities and friends. I miss creating.

I'll probably ease back into this somewhat slowly. I'm not 100% comfortable yet, and it feels weird to otherwise just pick up like nothing happened.

To anyone who was worried or affected by this, I'm so sorry. I hope that I can be a positive contributor to the community again soon.