A few times now I’ve taken an unplanned hiatus from writing and left the blog to its own devices for weeks at a time. In this post, I would like to open up about why I think it happens, and what I plan to do going forward.
Why I haven’t been posting?
The lack of my posts is the same as with anything I start avoiding: my borderline personality disorder is in control of it more than I am. In this case, it means fear and anxiety over the various things that could happen should I continue.
Things like “What if nobody likes what I write?” and “What if my articles are not ok in how I portray things?”. Do you get the picture yet? Good. This thing has gotten incredibly bad, to the point where the nagging entity in my mind is both shouting about my terribleness and about the fact that I’m even more useless since I have missed so many posts. It doesn’t help that I actually like writing and blogging in general, as that adds to the cacophony of terror in my head that keeps gnawing at me.
It fills my mind
All-day, every day, I want to go back to writing. I just get so stuck sometimes and don’t know what to do to get out of the state. I wouldn’t wish it for anybody, especially us creative folks.
To be thinking about all these bright ideas and ways to go further and make it better and more refined and polished, to be excited about it and all the possibilities… Only to be stopped by that same passionate mind starting to twindle and break at the sight of the slightest bump in the road. It is devastating. And blogging aside, my book project was halted for so long because of this same reason.
Neglecting Narcissus Blood Bank
My book. My passion project, the world that would spread over three realms and more than 10 books easily. If only I would sit down and write it.
It’s nothing like writer’s block when a disorder dictates what you chase and do with your life, even smacking you back when you try to reach for that lifelong dream of yours. This project is what I strive for in life, besides tending to my marriage, and yet it seems I’m sometimes incapable of just doing it. I’m telling you, it is all there, plot, world history, everything. I just need to write it down.
This is where my therapist comes in handy.
Of Reed and living things
My therapist is one of the schema kind, like the Life Traps I am in the middle of and need to get on with. One day we talked about my critical mode, the one always pouring the worst of the worst in my neck, and I described it like I’m already bleeding on the ground, helpless, the critical side pops in and starts kicking me more. This then prompted her to do something amazing – she took an empty chair and addressed the critical side of me like it was sitting on the chair. The child in me wanted to cry, I didn’t, but anyway. The point is the method that was used has now been integrated with some creative changes in usage in my daily life.
In short, I had a chat between myself, my Author-self, and Reed Hebburn, a man whose chapter I am currently stuck in with my novel. Wait, wait! It is not as crazy as it seems, and was supremely entertaining and also liberating. All of the relevant sides of me got to sit down and communicate. Because of this something beautiful happened in the end!
Just for the fun of it, I wish to share some bits of the conversation I had, as I wrote it down.
(ME = Myself AU = Author RE = Reed)
ME: So, guys, we are gathered here today to try and figure out what in the name of all that is holy is going on with the story. RE: I don’t much like how I’m being portrayed. AU: What you mean? You’re a complete crook, start acting like one and we can maybe move on! RE: That’s just utter bs. C’mon lady, tell him! ME: Author, are you sure there is not more to Reed than you let the rest of us believe? AU: Listen here, little lady. This deadbeat just upped and left his sister in the ghetto to fend for herself. He is an active part of a cartel. He is a lost cause, so to speak. RE: It’s not like I had much of a choice! --- AU: It’s useless, lady. All you’ll get from him are more lies -- ME: Shut your gob for a moment will you. Please, Reed. I want to do what I can to tell your story properly. Clearly, this third party has some ideas, but he is not you, we won’t ever be able to know unless you help us. Help us understand, Reed. Please. RE: I didn’t wanna go, not really. AU: Oh here we go!
After a while of bickering, the two of them started to calm down and we got to this wholesome ending:
AU: So how are we going to fix this? RE: You’ll go back, and write the truth. Stop trying to make me evil. I’m an idiot and made tons of mistakes for sure. But I’m not evil. Maybe even give me a cameo when it’s time to move on to tell other stories. I did meet the Broker more than once you know. Could tell a story or two. AU: I shall do my utmost to give you some light in the other stories. The world is always connected, my friend. RE: Oh I’m your friend now, huh? Fat chance of that happening! --- ME: Are we all in accordance then? The Author will listen to you, Reed. He will get it right. You won’t be forgotten. RE: I know, little miss. ME: Miss? RE: I will miss all of you. But it was a good run. Definitely not evil!
Ah, the tears I have for Reed. He was so misunderstood by the Author that it frustrated all of my collective self into oblivion. Writing his chapter was hell, clunky, it just didn’t feel right. And now I know it was because I wasn’t trusting myself since I was too busy playing second fiddle to my BPD.
In writing this conversation down I could relate to each of the sides individually, and get to the root of my issue. The whole chat is over 4 pages long!
Later on, I did the same kind of method and wrote down a conversation between myself and my Blogger-self. I was shorter but came to a sweet ending and I gained some real understanding of what has been bothering me and how to go on.
I look forward to being able to get back to my writing wholeheartedly again soon! And I will keep writing down these chats, I mean c’mon now, it is pretty entertaining to look at! Give it a try, you may yet be surprised at what all of your parts have to say, if only they were given a voice and put down on paper in an orderly manner.