Okay, two, three hours ago I sat down to write a separate blog post here about my writing since my last post, and instead got a 1212 word scene seed (it currently has no chapters before or after it) of a scene that has been needing done for months, if not two years now.
And while trying to… When I clicked away from here to get that exact word count, I found another sign of my PTSD and how, where, why all organization is a major (like 7-10 level trigger item) trigger.
Earlier, in a flash of euphoric joy for writing, I made a folder for ALL bits n pieces for WIP. Knowing full well I’d have to SLOWLY move everything over there over the course of days to maybe weeks so as to not trigger myself again and again and black out the memory of yet ANOTHER folder made specifically for that task…
When I went looking for it just now… It was gone.
Thankfully an online friend had bugged me to start taking screen shots of where files and folders are put, so she could keep track of them for me somewhere beyond my PTSD reach and… Using my copy of that image, I found it. Here is the thing…
This thing proved I have MULTIPLE of the same folders scattered across my HDD, hidden in… who knows how many places, PTSD, panic attack induced places.
Now while I just barely avoided reach frothing rage level of frustration over this blatant sign of why organization is such a massive clusterfuck for me for decades…
I did something I have not done in 14yrs: I made a folder directly on my HDD under C/: directly for WIP. No more “writing” or “current project” BS. Just literal, WIP with date and year (I need those on things or my brain flips its shit later when I can’t remember when something is from, yet another PTSD and/or autism joy joy trait).
If I lose THIS ONE, my brains are going all over the walls of this room. I’ve had NINE f’ing drugs that were to help with this, and best any of them did was give me hallucinations and paranoia I was about to violently die.
This BS mental confusion ends here and now or goddamned ELSE!
On the writing frontier.
A new scene tonight. One rather critical at that. A new character idea for the series after this one within WIP, with massive implications for the over-arching story of WIP.
And writing has reached the point where suicide IS the better option to NOT being able to write anymore, and fuck all those crisis hotlines “counselors” who told me I was a cancer on society, go to the ER, call 911 and have cops blow my brains out.
Time for line in the sand regarding writing.
I’ve done it before. December a few years back, out of frustration at not being able to write for an entire year no matter how many times I sat down to f’ing try… I challenged myself with:
“I write so much as a scene before new years or throw all writing away permanently. Software, notes, everything.”
As you can see, I’m still here writing.
So, it is time to do what NO professional, MD, psychiatrist, psychologist, therapist, psyche nurse, ANYONE has helped me to do. F’ing write OR ELSE.
Creating stories is the only deeply passionate joy left in my life. I’ve lost all other hobbies, all but one friend (albeit he has proven his weight in platinum), so if I have to give up writing and story telling, fuck this world, it ain’t worth living in if all I’m doing is burning oxygen to make the rest of you feel better about yourselves and suicide.
Yes, I’m pissed off, and sick of where this path has taken me, the listening to PROFESSIONALS, taking PROFESSIONAL advice, taking PROFESSIONALS drugs… And ending up with near NOTHING left.
Time for me to take care of me or die trying.