Switch

So things are progressing nicely in the world in which I live. First and for myself most important is that my furbaby Joey got a good report at the vet. He got very sick in July, just like his sister did last year. He didn’t have cancer like his sister. Instead, he had a cardiac condition common to cats of his breed. That’s now managed and his bloodwork came out good this last week, indicating he’s as healthy as a 15 about to be 16 year old feline can be. He still has a time limit because I know his kidneys seem to be aging faster than he is, due in part to his surviving the cat food recall of 2007. He and his sister were both 1 year old then and the poison in the cat food took the life of my 9 year old Spaz. Talk about trauma, knowing someone you love died because of what you were feeding him! The vet mentioned that the cancer Sadie had could likely have been caused by the poison or exposure to it, even though Lymphoma is pretty common in pets. I’ve got a friend who has recently had her furbaby diagnosed with lymphoma.

Secondly, and possibly also more interesting to others, I wrote this morning on the story that wouldn’t let go (reference a previous post). I knew it would come back when it wanted to and how it wanted. Sudden understanding of a character and a magazine article about psychopaths all helped me to get a good handle on direction and character development. I believe I’ve mentioned in previous posts that I’ve already got the basics for the second in the series.

Writer’s block is really like a switch in some ways. It can also be like an obstacle course forcing a person to climb out of that into a different perspective and practice of writing. Life has been complex for me this last few months. Bad memories and nightmares, all of which accompany depression and anxiety, basically killed any creativity I had. Now, it won’t kill my ability to quilt or do hand crafts but it certainly does a number on my ability to focus and write.

I wrote a lot and drew a lot while I was a kid. I never once had any problem with what to write or draw. It just flowed out of my childhood brain in a way adults envy. Later in life, as I started doing both as a way to verbalize and heal trauma, it seemed to me as if it was difficult to shift back into writing for pleasure. It was as if the trauma had painted everything with a stain which kept me from enjoying it the way I had when I was much younger. Drawing was one of my classes this semester and, while it hasn’t been difficult, the fact I used drawing to cope and do therapy for trauma tainted it as well and it’s been a long and challenging semester due to that. But I really enjoy it and it will definitely help with cover creation.

It’s keenly interesting to me how all of it works together: the creativity, the way the drawing and writing were used to heal trauma and also how that changed me and my perception of the creative natures of both of those. I love mysteries like that and it’s why I got drawn into the magazine article about psychopaths. Someone once told me my father was one. My childhood certainly testifies that he could have been. But there were some divergent areas which prove he might be kind of low on the spectrum. I do often think back to what life was like with him and what he did, trying to better comprehend his motivation for such behaviors. Sadly, there are some things which defy understanding. But, I digress. My subject matter was the fact that I’m writing again. There is the additional stimulation that the semester has only three more weeks until close, thus giving me time to get back to my previous household renovations. For some reason, physical activity is a must in my creative process. I find that doing chores requiring physical exertion can stimulate my imagination much more than regular exercise will. That and I really want a craft room.