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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/901602-Its-strange-but-its-true
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Rated: 18+ · Book · Writing · #2107938
A new year, a new blog, same mess of a writer.
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#901602 added January 30, 2017 at 11:42am
Restrictions: None
It's strange, but it's true.

Date: 01.08.17
Music of the Day: "I Want To Break Free" / Queen


It began, like many things in my life, with insomnia. No major decision in my life happens without some kind of sleep deprivation. So, really, the decision shouldn't have been shocking when I decided to resurrect my writing account at 3 o'clock in the morning. In the early dawn hour, I pulled out my credit card, wished myself a happy belated Epiphany, and renewed my subscription to something I thought I had put behind me. There's this feeling in the pit of my stomach that says this is going to be a trend for 2017, randomly going back to things that should probably be left alone. Interestingly enough, underneath all the churning anxiety and fear within me there seems to be a tiny bit of risk I did not know I possessed. That being said, hiya friends, I'm kind of back!

Am I back though? I don't know. I honestly can't give you a definitive answer to that except to say that I want to be. Some part of me says I need to be. But I'm not sure I have the strength to even halfway do this justice. It's been two to three years of chaotic mess since I left the first time. Triumphantly gut-wrenching chaos of a beautifully hideous mess with so many high-highs and low-lows I'm surprised I'm not still dizzy from every twist and turn. All I can say is that I am not the person I was when I first started my account many moons ago. Not too long ago that girl hitched a ride with a group of Franciscan nuns and their pet llama, Kiddo, driving a teal and rust VW bus; they were last seen heading northeast of I-5 in search of the aurora borealis. I, however, am just a burned out, disabled student and caregiver who can no longer drink more than one cup of coffee a day or trust her hands to actually do what they are designed to do.

The everlasting insomnia is the same though, so that's nice.

In the end, here I am, a woman almost always trying desperately just to keep her head above water, taking on another thing. But this thing might actually be a good thing, like it once was before I lost my mind a little and slowly ghosted away for several years. I cannot say I've been writing since I left either. I mean, I have been writing, but it's not coherent writing or anything truly extensive. Mostly I've written stacks of notes and outlines of world-building for about a couple dozen storyverses. I've also dabbled in a little fan-fiction, something I once said I would never do. Hey kids, take a note from Auntie Nix, and try not to do the "never say never" thing as it only comes back to bite you in the behind later on.

The major thing through the ups and downs is being unable to finish my writing. I stopped finishing projects. When I die, all that'll be left are mountains of scarves and half empty notebooks filled with nearly there stories and false starts to wondrous novel journeys. This is an affliction I hope to heal myself of, if possible. There are so many things that are falling apart or leaking out of my foggy brain that I want to be able to finish one thing, one project, anything at this point to try and prove to myself that I still can actually do it.

So I'm going to start small, and start here with the blog. The goal is to try and write here five days a week about whatever is on my mind at the time, mostly unfiltered. This task is going to be tricky with class and working two jobs and being stabbed with tiny needles for PT and the shadows of upcoming surgeries (not for myself this time, thank hell, although I kind of wish it could be me so I wouldn't worry so much, especially since I'm so far away and cannot help my father as he rehabilitates his hips, but that's another entry for another time). However, since I cannot journal as much anymore because of my judas hands, blogging seems like the best alternative to working out some of my woes.

Here goes nothing -- Day 1.

Sigh. Where do I even begin?






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