Feels so nice to have energy tonight. Yes, it's super cold - but I enjoyed going back to work and had a great day. The kids' school district has cancelled three days in a row. That's rare and notable.
We're already in for a big temperature swing - to the 60's maybe. That's Kansas.
Time has just slipped away from me. I really need some structure or prompts. It's been a month of daily writing - I really enjoy the activity. I feel like it's a great way to check in with myself and address some of these tiny hazards I face. The writing feels boring to me though and that's because of how much I love to write fiction and/or test theories as I escape life pressure. It's so damn hard to write about myself and background.
Writing itself has been a destructive curse on my life. Why? Through writing, I realized I had PTSD. I had disassociated so much in life, powering through one day at a time - I neglected all those inner feelings. When I began writing fiction - I was so damn obsessed, I wrote every single day. In a way, it was a daily journal - I wrote down whatever was floating through my mind, every single day - at all times of the day/night. That kind of commitment, being in that frame of mind, I paid attention to minute details and patterns as I weaved them into the storylines.
I began writing in 2018. The guidance to writers - write what you know. It started out great. It didn't take long before it all began to get dark. Which to my surprise, just fueled even more obsession and escapism as I solved my character's endless problems. My characters ended up having so many problems, it made sense to just give them an intelligence agency. Or rather, they taught me about intelligence protocols. It's hard to say for certain because I can talk to my characters like they are real. And that feels weird to write in public to strangers but as a writer, that's pretty normal. I spend a lot of time in my imagination.
It's 2025 now. Hard to describe that kind of mental journey and all the things I learned on that journey. Probably never will be able to explain it. No one should ever test their mental limits that way. But I did. I'm no longer a writer. Learned too much I suppose.
Or rather, I'd much rather solve problems in real life and that takes effort - like this journal.
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