Ever Expanding World Building and Refining of Chars & Plot pt1

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!

So…

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.

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Cars, Writing, Cars, Therapists, stuff n things

Huh, been a while since I posted anything here. Well guess new therapist/psychologist and a car crash might have something to do with that.

In June got a new psychologist/therapist, due to old therapist of 5yrs had to bow out all future appointments due to chemo. Luckily he has since gotten the all clear cancer wise, but he is still months away from returning due to chemo most affected his voice.

First new therapist/psychologist was not working out. After 4 weeks and 4 sessions… Even brought someone along with me to confirm my experiences while there, and… Even my friend/car buddy was growing annoyed with this Phd psychologist’s lack of engagement and passive-aggressive jabs at PTSD and my anxiety.

Enter second new therapist, whom I saw for first time last week, and… Night and day difference. For one, the lady actually participates in the conversation, has a sense of humor, and turns out, though I was not told this by insurance originally, she does EMDR, which is what old therapist did.

But being new therapist, lots of room for things to still go wrong, have been down this primrose path before, so being patient and waiting to see what happens. But my hope is she will cover areas old therapist could not, and in a tag team effort I can get all aspects of my anxiety, PTSD, and aspergers dealt with finally.

Now to the bad bad news.

June 30th, within minutes of July 1st, wrecked my car. And as of this blog post, totaled it. Insurance totaled it I should say, since car buddy and I have already figured out what work is necessary to make it derivable again. Just insurance found repairing the body damage, battle scars from going through a fence, to be more expensive than the value of the car. So… They totaled my girl.

Will be buying it back, doing the repairs myself with that money all going to car buddy since he is the one who will be pulling transmission, getting it towed to tire places for the new tires and rims on the front, and new windshield (bad cracks, not busted out). After that salvage title, re-inspect, re-register, and my battle scar covered girl will be back on the road.

I’m gonna move the writing part of this into its own blog post, since I feel I’m still trying to jam too much into these damned things and hitting the TL;DR threshold >_>

But I will say on the wreck thing, it was PTSD caused, and that psychologist raising his voice and calling out “next” when I told him about what I’m about to say, is a huge part of why that guy is now former psychologist I’ve seen.

What happened was at a red light when it turned green, car in front of me didn’t go. So I hit the horn. They still didn’t go. So I went around them. They took off immediately, and began tail gating me. Changing lanes to stay behind me, made all the same turns with me, and after the third turn following me… The hind part of my brain freaked and went into survival mode.

About a 100yards into this flight of panic fore-brain figured out what happened, and I realized I was on a street with no lights, hit my high beams, just in time to discover the road ended about 10ft away. Over a high hard curb (that’s what took out tires), through a fence (that’s what did the body damage), and the only place I felt safe on earth… Has been lost to me for 17 days now.

Now thankfully, I have legacy insurance from when I used to work. Full coverage, towing & rental coverage, so I’m in a POS rental (that I rarely drive due to fear of wrecking it would be impossible to repair, and I’m SUV familiar, so I find this a valid concern). Sadly, insurance just wants to total it and move on. But buddy and I have done all the work on this car up until now by ourselves, so with the money TO DO the repairs & to get the parts, we can do it.

Buddy has been surprisingly helpful during all this. Surprisingly because no one, not even family nor wife ever helped this much, nor grasped how badly my anxiety can kick my ass on the bad days.

But hey, I guess this is what happens when you are there for someone on their darkest days over the last year, lmao. So yeah…

I’ll have my car back, eventually (damn are insurance people slow), and have my “safe place” back too hopefully. I have no idea how my autism may react to the changes to the car. So we will see.

Screaming Pain When Trying to Write

Okay, first, apologies, am writing this while triggered, so not all of this may be lucid/coherent. One part of my complex PTSD is how it takes on some aspects of DID (dissociative identity disorder) when i’m freaked out, and past n present n voices of other parts, all start screaming over the top of each other.

Psychiatrists call it “thought disorganization”, but since the only class of drugs they ever offer for it, anti-psychotics, only magnify the problem not help with it in the least… I’m not convinced it IS “thought disorganization.”

Of course only two psychiatrists, or any other kind of medical professional for that matter, have not thrown me out of their offices when I exhibit this right in front of them… My pool of data points is highly limited. Particularly since the second psychiatrist ended our one and only appointment by screaming “get out, get out!!!” over and over again >_>

Anyways, the reason I am here today is to whine about trying to write while… While the attempt TO write TRIGGERS… Well I’m not wholly sure WHAT this is, particularly since I’m not allowed to talk about it around mental nor medical healthcare professionals. All such attempts end in “get out, come back once you’ve calmed down” or violent expulsion by police or security.

But, tried to open the writing project I’ve been working on this week, and near instant becoming feeling violated, raped, screaming pain filling my brain, skin crawling, fearing for my life if I tell anyone IRL, and some other things… I don’t have words for, since I have never seen an equivalent of them IRL to draw upon for words to describe.

Though usually that just means I’m feeling a sea of pain from sub adult trauma parts/states all triggered up at once, all screaming their pain and pain only, because they are from the youngest years of my childhood and before I had words yet to express the feelings of their moment OR the cognitive capacity to process the fear and thus connect it to coherent words.

Or in short, it really fucks up my day, and likely next few days, since these kinds of episodes last for hours or days. I mean I guess I should feel lucky they no longer last the WEEKS they did eight years ago but… Not much of a constellation prize.

I still can’t go out into public, at least not safely, with this thing hanging over my head every single day and moment of my life. They are not triggered by the same things, all the time. I mean hell, all I did was open a writing project I have worked with for days, weeks, months, and BANG, i fear for my life level screaming pain filling my soul and brain.

And how the hell could I even attempt to write about the experience when hey, writing is what i was trying to do and INSTANT CRIPPLAGE.

Venting any of this here because… This blog is technically to show other PTSD & autism sufferers they are not alone.

Even if at times like this, feeling alone is precisely what I feel. Because I know if I tell anyone IRL, i’ll have police banging on my door, screaming about murder, waving guns around, and an investigation into my murder plans. I’ve been through it five times already, and have no desire to risk being shot by one of these psychotic fuckers that only have to say “I feared for my life” and it won’t even go court nor even charges against them. And…

I’d be long dead before any of that happened. Twenty plus bullets to the chest and head tend to do that >_>

Deus Ex Machina autism

There are aspects/traits of my complex PTSD and aspergers that IRL I would love to have either reduced or removed, but IRL, they are immutable in my 30+yrs of experience around them and attempts to get treatment/help for them.

But here is the trick: in currently WIP writing… I have a character who CAN do those very things. But should I?

If I could reduce or eliminate the impact fixation lock has on my daily life, I don’t even have words for how great that would be, because the thing I hate most about that trait is how agitated if not flat out enraged I become when something or someone stumbles into me and interrupts me during fixation lock, and there is not a damned thing on earth I can do to change “that is just how your brain reacts to that.”

I’d love to no longer have the triggers to medical, authority figures, and fear for my life when either of those two come up, because it would be nice to be able to call 911 and not fear for my life after several events that dealing with those forces has brought about in my life in the past. I’d like to be able to ask a doctor about my chest pains, abdominal pains, the changing colors of a growth on my foot… Without fear of abuse, beatings, imprisonment, death threats, and flat out execution at the hands of the people who… Well… Two of the first three death threats of my life came at the hands of MD’s. With death threats from a judge and other authority figures around that very same time.

I’m getting older, and i’m just smart enough to realize experiencing blinding fear and panic attacks when being around medical staff, whom in my experience react extremely poorly to anxiety and panic attacks in their “patients”, Is a mixture for very very bad things to happen to me one day as my body ages and things that are just minor inconveniences now… Become life threatening in the years to come.

I have a main character who is also a POV character in WIP who has both PTSD and aspergers. Due to how badly my mix of those two has hurt me IRL and taken away so many opportunities… I can’t have that character experience precisely what I do, or they could not be an MC. I know this because my complex PTSD and autism have lead to me being disabled due to how many times a week, even per day some days, where I am crippled/incapacitated multiple times a week or day.

I’ve chosen to have this character be drug resistant just as I am IRL, thus reducing their treatment options to near zero, like mine are. Ironically, I have little idea how to write about poor characters as MC’s (which is what disability reduces you to IRL in the US, poverty), because when you are poor, there is very little “pro-active” you can do in life past surviving each day, week, month, particularly when complex PTSD and aging are added atop that bill, Much less “being hero of an epic.”

But, I have another MC in that same WIP, who can manipulate DNA, cellular structure, transmute elements at the subatomic level… Who WILL provide cancer treatment/reversal in this same WIP because I’ve lost too many friends and neighbors to cancer in the last four years to NOT have this entity grade being who cares rather greatly for children… To NOT help after one child asks, “but why don’t you fix their cancer?”

I’ve let one beloved character die of brain damage due to the sudden death by brain damage of someone I knew IRL. Took months to develop an internally consistent reason for WHY that happened.

I’ve sorted out in-world why and how of the differences between high and low functioning autism. Thankfully in broad enough terms that IF IRL we find out aspergers and low functioning autism really aren’t related conditions… I’ll have my bases covered.

I know PTSD, regardless of simple or complex, is essentially a form of brain damage or more importantly, as of right now IRL, irreversible. It is only cope able with.

So, how the hell do I have an MC living with complex PTSD and aspergers in the same world with a being, an entity, for whom “tinkering” with DNA, for whom regenerating whole human limbs, regenerating flesh that has suffered third degree burns right down the bone?

And before anyone asks the obvious question, yes, they both know of each other, directly. The PTSD MC is the boyfriend of a daughter OF that entity/being. And daughter very pointedly screams at “mama”, “why won’t you just help him? WHY!”

So glad this “little issue” is in novel two of the trilogy and I’ve got some time to… Sort out this conundrum.

Just to be clear, my reluctance here is to go the hollywood path and make a magical cure/fix for a RL condition that millions deal with everyday IRL for whom there is no such thing as a “cure.”

passive suicidal

What is passively suicidal? It is when someone is not actively trying to kill themselves (guns, knives, drugs, jumping off bridges), but are instead passively avoiding doing the little things to keep themselves alive long term. Like stop eating properly. Give up on medical care for known conditions/issues. But still comes with the same loss of interest in their passions, hobbies, friends, etc..

I named this blog post “passive suicidal”, because I realized tonight that I’ve been in an ever worsening down cycle OF passive suicide.

Now this type of thing happens to me. It is something I have lived off and on with since 1991. Yes, I have sought treatment, dozens of times. And it is how I have learned of the weaknesses and flaws of the US mental healthcare system, and that I am drug resistant.

Nine drugs, all coming with the big promise from MD’s of “this will fix you right up”, “this will cure you”, etc.. And not a single drug helped. Six of them made my life very much so worse. The anti-psychotic I was put on for two years left me with many permanent side-effects, even years after coming off of it.

Additionally tonight I learned that some autism blog added me to “their list.” Admittedly I have little idea what that means, but it sure gave me a spike in favs & looks. Sadly I am in no mental space to research what this blog list means nor is, and since new things tend to trigger my “i’m a retarded faggot” trigger both from my autism side and my CPTSD side, I won’t be poking at any new sites to find out either. Not tonight/today at least.

Now, I have wanted to blog about something for weeks, so I had some blogging done, but just nothing had… Presented itself to be blogged about. And then tonight I realized a pattern that… Well honestly my passive suicidal depression stuff is hard for me to notice. And equally honestly, depression is one of the last things mental healthcare types ever notice, at least in me, unless I talk about suicide, then the cops coming pouring out of the woodwork screaming at me about murder, with hands on the guns, and lots of them crowding around me.

So, I noticed a pattern to the way my time had grown mushy, hard to tell what happened when nor where. I was finding it hard to remember the last time I talked with friends I used to talk with all the time online, etc., etc.. I was spending huge amounts of time in my “avoidance” coping mechanisms. Movies, episodes, and even some gaming again (gaming is a source of fixation lock for me, so I tend to avoid them now, because I got tired of losing whole days to it and/or screaming at anyone or thing that interrupted it). All just to pass time, so I’d not have to feel the pain (anxiety and flashbacks mostly) I have grown used to no professionals can help me with, no matter how many of them I go to, how many crisis hotlines I contact on the bad days, no matter how many doctors I tell of these things.

I noticed how much I was avoiding writing. Or should I say how I would sit down to write on something, and hours or days later realize I had not done it, but had no real idea what I had done in the meantime.

Now I’ve done this rodeo hundreds of times through the years. I’ve been to professionals, read forums, read WebMD, wikipedia, and so many other sites, books, medical thingies, and I know depression, anxiety, fear of near others for I might be murdered by some cop (legally too here in the US) because he/she felt “threatened” or fear another medical type will tell me I need to die and scream at me at length why I need to die as a “cancer on society.”

Just I know no real answers that work for me.

At best, the drugs cause me to black out and just not feel for 6-18hrs, then I wake up, and it is all right back to shit. At worst, the drugs make me hallucinate, not able to stand without staggering like i’ve got a blood alcohol of 0.30, panic attacking, and my hyper vigilance so wildly over-triggered I can barely see & hear much less function.

Therapists/professionals generally want no part of me talking about this stuff around them. They change the subject, stop talking, look away/avoid eye contact, give one word answers, or nod a lot. Most of them terminate services after seeing or hearing of one of these episodes.

Honestly, at times like this, I have no idea why I DON’T commit suicide. I’ve had a plan in place since 1991. Have an abundance of tools with which to carry it out with. I can only assume autism comes with an unexpected silver lining. But yet No professional can answer that question in any kind of meaningful fashion.

I had been wondering why life felt so off for the last few months. And tonight I figured out why. Not like that makes a big difference. Just means the depression that had NOT been eating my ass since Sept 2015 has peeked back into my life.

But it sure as hell explains the lack of energy and motivation for personal things for months now, lmao.

Hopefully being aware will mean now my unconscious and conscious minds can work hand-in-hand with this, and I’ll start to feel better again. That has happened a lot since April 2013 when therapist of that time stumbled upon a door that allows me to talk… Well sort of talk, it ain’t like via normal words, lmao, well to talk with “the others.” I guess we’ll see what type of answers do or don’t manifest in the near future, hmmm?

Beginning the Sorting Out of Worldbuilding Notes

Almost two years after a good writing friend suggested I draft up both a “monstrous manual” and a “manual of the planes” (concepts taken from how old school D&D wrote up a bestiary and its cosmology), my autistic brain finally got a grasp on how to handle and do this project.

After 48yrs on this planet, I am finally used to being slow, but not stupid. IE, it takes me a lot longer than a neural typical to learn new things. Now once I learn them, I can re-apply them quite easily. And that is what has happened here.

So sometime in the coming weeks (months?) I will finally assemble my mountain of world building notes into a semblance of order that my “learned fiction via D&D” brain can utilize while I write these WIP novels (yes, all in the same fictional multi-verse).

To my #turtlewriter friends, slow really is better than never, particularly when you have a communication developmental learning disorder (the official category Aspergers/autism sit within) that forces an additional layer of writing complications upon you as an author.

Something Interesting Happened on the Way to the Forum, 1

I was, and may yet elsewhere/later, blog about the depression + anxiety + flashbacks I’ve dealt with for the last 5, 6 days and how unfun things had been, particularly on the worst night, the 24th, but a funny thing happened on the way to the forum…

After seven years of feeling something was wrong with my (read, the writer’s most loved MC) personal MC’s eyes and how the eyes of those she/it used as hosts were purple, but until tonight, I had just never been able to put my finger on exactly what AND if everyone who looked into such’s eyes would be able to readily see that “purple.” That has now changed.

One, the eye color is now officially Violet, because the color must be a true electromagnetic spectrum “color”, and Violet is while purple is purely an artistic construct.

Two, While her/its eye color is violet when she/it assumes a form of her/its own, that has not changed, now her/its host’s eye color will not actually change. What does change is their pupils was dimly glow violet and if something capable of seeing into/detecting the ultraviolet range, the color will be visible in the near UV spectrum as well.

So now I comfortably (for me the author) have restored her/its creepiness to any who see her/it or their host’s eyes. And now I no longer have the “worry” about whether or not “purple” eyes would be visible/detectable by those she/it were talking to under well lit conditions, because dimly glowing violet pupils would cause the hind brain of any human seeing that to cry “something is wrong here, THREAT!” even if the conscious side of the brain might not be directly see the unexpected color shift of the subject’s pupils.

On a side note, I have always known that her/its little “tell” does not impact/impair the vision of her/its hosts, since basically a data filter is put in place that prevents the host from seeing everything through a constant purple haze/filter/lens.