04/15/2014 - 12:58 a.m.

So I'm still working on the book. (Half Past A Quarter Til Never) and as many times as I've started, restarted, edited and did it again, it just seems to be going nowhere fast. Thankfully the poetry manuscript is going a little better than that.

As I've been gathering my research materials and going through my journals I seem to find myself seemingly transported back all those years, and quite honestly it's a bit disconcerting. Even though I know for fact (documenter proof no less) that I was not Bipolar or 'crazy', however you want to look at it, I consider how easily one could fall back into those old patterns and start that cycle all over again.

I suppose a lot of it is stress, which seems to have always been a precursor for anything in my life. Typically I've thrived on such, but as I've gotten older (hello, I just turned 37 last month, a bit of a milestone really when you consider the fact that I thought I'd never live to see thirty...) I don't thrive in that environment, I actually tend to shut down it seems. This afternoon for instance, I found myself laying on the sofa just staring out into the distance while the kiddo played..just thinking.

I suppose another thing is the fact that I do deal with chronic pain now and nothing has really helped much, it gets old after a while, and yes, it IS depressing. To a certain degree. But I have a few choices, I can let the pain run my life, or I can plod along as best as I can, pain be damned. Obviously I plod. :) I could sit here and wallow in self pity and oddly I have a feeling if I did that, I really WOULD start that whole cycle up again and I DEFINITELY would not want that. But I can see how it could happen. So no wallowing and feeling sorry for myself is allowed.

I know that I'll feel a bit better once I actually FINISH the book and I can finally put all that shit behind me once and for all. I know, I know, why keep pushing it, after all, it's been 10 years right? I guess part of it is wanting to set the record straight and another is maybe I can prevent the same thing from happening to someone else. If one person can save themselves from a horrendous misdiagnosis that nearly cost me MY life, then forcing myself to relive and write down those memories, no matter how painful they may be, is totally worth it in the end.

Then we'll move on to something else. I have another book in the future planned, it's a work with two of my best friends about Mommyhood. Butterfly Waffles and Other Obsessions.

We're getting there.

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