Yes, very much Unwell.
I’m okayer, but it’s been week after week of getting stomach-punched by PTSD, and Easter was a round-house kick to the head (imagine what will happen when Father’s Day gets here).
I’m going to see if I can schedule visits to my bartender better around the holidays. Also, I’ll see if I can take up writing one of my more light-hearted serials during this time, which tends to absorb me far more than reading or non-fiction writing. Though I feel like I’m betraying time spent blogging, especially as this is… what… rewrite #5 of this piece of fiction? Perhaps I should just get it out there because otherwise I think it will never get out there. ((I can never publish these pieces with any publisher due to severe conflict of interest. Y’all who don’t have this conflict of interest, get your fiction stuff published officially! Mine is a special case.))
But I have really no other idea what to do, given that I don’t want friends to see me like this—especially since my episodes, while rare, can scare them. I have lost friends over this aspect of me, because the issue of whether I can control it or not is always in question for them. Some of them think if I could just have not thought about things, I wouldn’t have ruined the time spent went with them, so therefore I must want to ruin things, deep inside me.
As @mogrith (Paul Wirtz) comments, though, my episodes have about as much of such “meaning” as an epileptic fit for an epilepsy sufferer.
It kind of is crazy-making. I have to think about things in order to heal. Life sucks. If I just forget all the time, this will never go away.
So I go forwards with this; I can’t really go back. And I will do it—not out of hope, but out of the desire to not lose dignity in going down the path of eventual insanity.
By the by: indeed, watching characters in fiction lose dignity affects me more than their deaths or their suffering. What I love about my bit of fiction, that I wish didn’t suck so much, is that even when dignity is lost—and it must be, because plot cares nothing for dignity—I know how the character can earn it back, or at least that they will. Even if in real life, such a thing would be totes unrealistic. Some creators are too cruel to go back from the edge, which is why I’ve stopped watching Joss Whedon works, and the Simarillion is difficult for me to read.
Anyhoo, I go on, and on, and on. And preserve what dignity I can.