I’VE FINISHED MY BOOK. NOW WHAT?

You’d think I’d be relieved after spending a year writing a book and finally sending it off into the ethernet. Well, I’m not.

I loved writing a 2nd edition of my book about teen suicide. Okay, that may sound a bit sick. Right? (I notice that everyone these days seems to end a declarative sentence with a question mark. Right?) I mean, digging into subjects like addiction, physical and sexual abuse (too bad I finished the book before Harvey and the gang graced the front pages of every newspaper in the world), depression/anxiety, academic pressure — the list goes on — can weigh a writer down. Turn every day into a nightmare of heart wrenching stories.

But you’d be surprised to discover that even the most confusing/challenging subjects can offer all kinds of healthy insights and chances to make things better. Right? Take M., a 17-year-old self-described “asexual homo/romantic.” What the hell does that mean? Translation: She doesn’t feel sexual attraction (in her case, to men or women) but feels romantic attraction toward women. M. has never had sex and doesn’t plan to. She’s just fine with cuddling and holding hands and all those sweet whispers, and love notes. Now if a teacher were to ask me what I learned in school that day, I’d say that I gained a better understanding of those whose gender/sexuality is different but not any better or worse than mine.

And all those teens who are consumed with getting good grades, being accepted by a good college, just being good — well, their lives can be hell. Right? L., 18, suffers from anxiety and depression. It’s not unusual for both disorders to go hand in hand.

I have negative thoughts all the time. Things like if I don’t do this assignment, the whole class will know. I’ll get a letter from my teacher and I won’t be able to get into college.

When L. is in the throws of her struggles, she has headaches, has trouble getting to sleep, loses her appetite. (You’d think most teenage girls would give up Facebook for a week to dump a few pounds, but not girls like L. who wish for days without “everything feeling like work.”) Here’s the good news: With a combination of drug and talk therapy and a list of things she can do to feel less anxious, L. is enjoying many more good days than bad. She’s applied to seven colleges (her dad keeps encouraging to apply to more) and, while she has her top three, she’ll be grateful to be accepted by one.

In writing this book, I got to meet scores of teens. At the end of every interview, I’d thank each for spending some time with me and bravely telling their stories. “Have a great afternoon,” I’d say. Their response: “You as well.” Where the hell did that come from? What about “You, too,” or “Thanks,” or “I will.” When did this “You as well” thing come into the English lexicon. Is it those damn Millennials whose members have passed us Baby Boomers and now make the rules?

But back to the question I posed at the beginning of this missive: What do I do now that I’ve finished the book? It’s not as if I haven’t been here before. But this time feels different. The clock is ticking and the need not to waste time going to lunch with friends, adding another yoga class to my schedule or watching “Ripper Street” on Netflix weighs heavily on my Medicare/Social Security brain. Should I start a new book when I haven’t a clue as to what to write about? Should I ramp up my volunteering game and share what I know with others? Should I just shove it and take that trip around the world? (This last option is out: I don’t have the funds and have two cats at home that need love and attention. Oh, and a husband, too.)

My friends all tell me to just relax. Some of them who still work for the “man” 9 to 5 envy my freedom and can’t fathom my not embracing it. But they don’t understand that I need to create — in my case, to write — and that waking up with “nothing” to do, no deadlines to meet, no typos to correct leaves me with a lump of boredom in my gut that no matter of busy work can appease.

One idea I do have is . . . well, if I spill the beans, who knows who might snap it up. Right? So, I’ll hold that one close to my chest and do a little research to see if anyone else has covered the subject better than I could ever dream.

In the meantime, I can hear you wishing me good luck. “You as well.”