...and after quite some time, hi guys,
Yes, the blog has been quiet of late. Writing, quiet of late. My head, not so quiet of late; in fact its been cloudly lately, turbulent and stuff. Things have been getting me down, and while tangible and they have a make-sense place, I haven't quite figured out if its Depression avec schizophrenia (or the other way round) matched with some corked Chateau d'Anxietie.
My guess is, if I'm on an SNRI and now an anti-psychotic (used as mood stabiliser but it might also keep me away from another pop of psychosis - I had enough fun decoding numberplates and conversing with tree branches blowing in front of streetlights when I was eighteen), then my brain is doubling down on (I'm no seeing or hearing things, so I'm hoping mild) schizoaffective.
Time may tell on that, and as to why I'm being so open about it here. And why here? Well among the other things my brain is doing to itself that makes some simple things strangely difficult if I'm not apathetic about it, namely work, that work is taking a lot out of my time that could be spent, you guessed it, writing.
I guess I needed to get it off my chest. I tend to process pretty well, though it does end up as a conversation to myself that has very informative answers. Call me crazy it's like there's two of me in my head, but at least the other "side" if you will tends to have my back, lets me get out my emotions. Call it the voice of reason, sort of, and maybe it was that voice long ago telling me not to waste myself.
My internal jury still out on that, but anyway, here I am, Friday after a long, long week, meant to be doing some report for one of our clients - you know the type, makes you jump through too many hoops to justify their own existence. And why am I bothering? Why am I pleasing someone else (through the employer), and while I'm there, why am I pleasing them?
Pay? Sure I need to make the rent every week, but its comfortable. Reward? Could open doors elsewhere down the track. Life balance? Not quite, I'm going to try working from home this weekend for a couple of hours but so far signs not looking so good. Frankly I'd rather be writing; that not paying bills, I'd rather be around people than hiding in the same noisy office (trust me, doesn't help my head with constant distractions and sudden volume spikes).
At Ivy on a busy Friday night? Sure, you expect that from 1000 people. But an office of 12 people? Yikes, it almost hurts.
And I'm the one feeling like the let down, the dead weight. I'm not that far gone at least to believe that, it just feels, and I can process them. I'm just coming to understand I'm not an office worker, admin saps my clouded brain, and with the new tablets permitting a hint of clarity I'm seeing more and more this week that I'm dancing to someone else's tune, and I'm not talking about the boss.
Let's just say it goes back some time, in addition to the darkest moments forced onto me by two trusted adults and one I should not have (processed those flashbacks out, and I can cast recurrences back into the past, yay me for that at least), and the shit I copped at school(s) for being different, and the whole sexuality thing (even my birth year, 81, spells Bi, sort of cute when you look at it) which I didn't explore until after high school anyway.
And there's more things out of the bag than I expected. Call me artistic just not a tortured artist. It's bad enough being a Rob Thomas song (on three, "I'm not crazy, we're just a little unwell...") - and I need to stop bracketing multiple tangents! Say hi to my brain function.
I'm not suffering for my art. I'm actually suffering from a lack of art. at least my Defqon 1 helmet is coming a long. Yes you heard right, Defqon 1, I'm going raving to hardstyle and other loud music. At 34. With somewhat bad knees. And I'm looking forward to hitting that grassy patch for about 12 hours. YEAH!
And somewhere in the middle of whatever I have that means I might be on tablets for a good number of years - possibly the rest of my life - just to function. I just doubt it'll be in an office job. Hate to say, it's not me, and it takes a lot out of me just to get up and drive an hour to work (heya, Sydney!), and I feel I'm going nowhere and falling behind in my work when I feel I need to be upright, moving around people, with brain space freed to think up story ideas.
Because I did that once. The Torment, The Shadow, The Heart was the result. Only this time I'm on some meds that might take down my hoighty-toighty side a notch too, deal with some flawed, maybe delusional thinking. At least when it comes down to my writing I'm happy with what I do, and my frequent 80% on Whitesmoke makes me happy!
I miss my writing. And I miss blogging time. And I miss my son, having left my last relationship because it wasn't working at all for me. More or less, I miss some form of me that I'll never see, that me without adversity in his life, without divorcing parents, sexual assaults, bullying, psychosis; but that me might never be a writer.
Anyway, this is more or less me just getting things out, and I thank you for reading, same as my books. It's just the truer story, though I do love a good sword fight and semi-witty humour and crafting interesting characters.
I'm not sure when I'm blogging next, I'm not keeping schedules here, or with my writing. Hopefully I'll be onto Three Ways again soon, and hopefully finish and get something out for you guys to read (and me get my name out there a bit - I'm hoping a lot! - more). Until then how about we all play waiters for Godot?
But yes, I will still say it, no matter how I presently feel about my work, life, or anything else, have a good one,
TM
