Journals38
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Like a baseball to the face
5 min read
So, the last several months have been an interesting experience for me. Some of you know already, but back in March of this year, I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. Whee (not). Things actually haven't been too bad, though, because 1: I have awesome people helping me out, and 2: I really haven't been worried about it the whole time I've been going through chemotherapy. In fact, I've rather been quite cheerful the whole time.
It's kind of hard to explain without going into a giant story time that I'm not sure I feel like posting here. But to sum it up, for the past several years, I've been in this giant anxious/depressed state that was hard to get anything done with. I was actually to the point of feeling suicidal, though I never got so far as trying to harm myself. Then some things happened last year, including me going to a self reliance course, getting out of the relationship that was apparently causing me a lot of the depression, and getting myself a modest job that was allowing me some income and feeling like I had some worth again, even though I sort of dreaded going, just because of the whole 'PEOPLE!' aspect of it. (Let's face it, unless you one of the lucky few, you're just plain going to have to work/interact with people while working.) I even have my own car, now.
Things were looking so good, in fact, that I decided I was going to try going back to school this year. I'm only four classes away from finishing up an art degree, and about the same if I want to finish an English one, as well.
And then last March I went and finally got this lump checked out.
I'd known it was there for about a year and a half before that, but as mentioned, I was suicidal. It felt like it wouldn't matter if I died, so if it was something that might lead to that, I didn't care. Unsurprisingly, it's cancer. Breast Cancer. Stage 3.
Most people probably would have been freaking out at that stage. Especially since I'm so young to be getting it (I'm only 30, after all). A lot of people seem to think that it's the end of the world. But if anything, it was... a relief, I guess. This wasn't just some 'in my head' problem. The suspicion I'd had for over a year was confirmed. It was kind of liberating, actually.
Granted, going through the chemotherapy for the last three and some months has been a bit of a drag. For the first four rounds, I was feeling generally sick and tired for days after each one, and had this perpetually awful taste in my mouth; for the last four, I'd get this wonderful (read sarcastically) aching in my muscles and joints. I've got some bills to worry about, I had to stop working because my job and chemo just wouldn't have mixed well at all, but I've had a lot of support the whole way. I've had time where I can just be chill and no one expects anything from me for once. I've written thousands of words of story, hundreds of thousands, even, because the pressure is off. The only things I have to worry about (for the most part) are keeping my appointments and where I want said story to go. (It's seen a lot of editing, and there will be MUCH more to come).
And the people who see me at church are always saying how I look so cheerful. I'm so happy, so strong, so upbeat. I've been divorced and have cancer for crying out loud, and I'm feeling better than I have in years?
Yeah, all I can say is that I was seriously broken for a while, and I've found a way to start picking up the pieces. That's really the only thing that I can see that would cause that.
My only gripe is that with surgery, radiation therapy, and another surgery after that sometime probably mid-November, I won't be able to start going back to work and school until next year. I had sort of been looking forward to finishing at least one of those degrees sooner than later. Guess it wasn't quite in the cards, though.
So, I'll keep writing, and sketching character designs, singing songs, playing Final Fantasy XIV, and working on recovery. Who knows, with some luck, Outcast might actually take off, and I'll get a decent income. But I'll have to figure out how to sand out the flaws and rough patches before I'll be comfortable with sharing it with the world in general. Feels like I'm on the right track, though.
Up, up, and away! *dodges another baseball*
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I think I can, I think I can
1 min read
Been plenty of ups and downs in the last month, but I feel like I'm starting to get something of a rhythm. Averaging around 3k words per day, when I do write, and not counting any sort of world building I do with my partner in crime. There have been plenty of shenanigans, for certain.
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Back in the Mountains
1 min read
After spending three years in Florida, I have at last returned to Utah, where it is cold and snowy, but the air is crisp and dry. Gonna take a while to get settled in, but overall feeling good about the move.
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Half year later, ten pegs down
2 min read
The hopeful feeling I had at the beginning of the year has, in case the title of this journal isn't obvious enough, has clearly abandoned me.
Anxiety, depression, loss of motivation, some paranoia, lots of time spent immersing myself in absorbing tasks, exhaustion from the stress, etc., etc., the classic artist/author/poetic dysfunctional expectations.
For the purpose of being able to explain how all of this affects me, properly, I've been... documenting it, a sort of journal/discourse. I'm trying to convince people that it really is a problem.
And that seems to be what my current problem is. You see, I don't want to remember this stuff. I don't want to feel it. But when I can't explain it in an interview or examination, when I can't remember half the stuff just sitting there when the questions are asked... They don't agree with the assessment. They determine that I'm fine, and that it will be easy to live a normal life.
Ha. Right.
But, as I said, I'm recording it. I'm looking deep into the raw abyss and describing how it leaves me. I picked up my pen the first day after putting serious thought into trying to find a job, what I could find around here. Retail. Food service. Nothing much else, unless I took a job at Disney with my husband.
I almost threw up just considering it all. Even now I can taste bile. My hands always shake.
Writing it all down is converting it to permanent memory. I know now that this fog of memory where I can hardly feel the past two and a half years, that it seems more like the time I've spent where I am, has been me suppressing everything. So if I've been in even a mildly anxietal state this whole time? It clicks. It fits.
My main point, is that just writing it all down is making me feel worse. And for now, I can't take even the small disappointments too well.
Try not to pity or feel depressed yourself after reading this. I just needed to tell someone, and this is a good place to start. I hope to get things settled soon. I could really use some really good things to happen.
Kaze out.
Anxiety, depression, loss of motivation, some paranoia, lots of time spent immersing myself in absorbing tasks, exhaustion from the stress, etc., etc., the classic artist/author/poetic dysfunctional expectations.
For the purpose of being able to explain how all of this affects me, properly, I've been... documenting it, a sort of journal/discourse. I'm trying to convince people that it really is a problem.
And that seems to be what my current problem is. You see, I don't want to remember this stuff. I don't want to feel it. But when I can't explain it in an interview or examination, when I can't remember half the stuff just sitting there when the questions are asked... They don't agree with the assessment. They determine that I'm fine, and that it will be easy to live a normal life.
Ha. Right.
But, as I said, I'm recording it. I'm looking deep into the raw abyss and describing how it leaves me. I picked up my pen the first day after putting serious thought into trying to find a job, what I could find around here. Retail. Food service. Nothing much else, unless I took a job at Disney with my husband.
I almost threw up just considering it all. Even now I can taste bile. My hands always shake.
Writing it all down is converting it to permanent memory. I know now that this fog of memory where I can hardly feel the past two and a half years, that it seems more like the time I've spent where I am, has been me suppressing everything. So if I've been in even a mildly anxietal state this whole time? It clicks. It fits.
My main point, is that just writing it all down is making me feel worse. And for now, I can't take even the small disappointments too well.
Try not to pity or feel depressed yourself after reading this. I just needed to tell someone, and this is a good place to start. I hope to get things settled soon. I could really use some really good things to happen.
Kaze out.
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Glimmer of Hope
2 min read
Somehow, suddenly, I've achieved some form of normality in my life. Not sure what caused it, beyond a small adjustment to my medications. It feels like it must be more than that.
The consequences of this? Writing. Lots and lots of writing.
In a move that I never thought I would take, I have taken Demonslayer, stripped it down to its basic structure and started writing it from the start with a fresh take. The pacing has changed; old ideas have been discarded or re-visualized. Even older ideas have somehow cropped up, as well. Concepts from my first pages written in Jr. High have, quite accidentally, surfaced in the flow of ideas, though all of them carry the new flavor that my writing has gained.
This has left me with something of a dilemma, though. I've made several revisions of Demonslayer in the past, mostly in the form of additions to the storyline. They've kept the same script though all of them. This new Demonslayer, this new tale written in parallel, is far too different. Simply replacing the old story with the new doesn't feel right. It seems unfair to the loyal friends who have believed in me thus far to make them buy another copy of the same title with different content.
In light of this, I plan on giving this new world another name. I might keep Demonslayer somewhere in the title, as a nod to what I've burned down and breathed new life into.
Perhaps now is the time to let glow the long yearned for name to rise from the ashes of Kaze's story, reborn.
Phoenix Fire.
The consequences of this? Writing. Lots and lots of writing.
In a move that I never thought I would take, I have taken Demonslayer, stripped it down to its basic structure and started writing it from the start with a fresh take. The pacing has changed; old ideas have been discarded or re-visualized. Even older ideas have somehow cropped up, as well. Concepts from my first pages written in Jr. High have, quite accidentally, surfaced in the flow of ideas, though all of them carry the new flavor that my writing has gained.
This has left me with something of a dilemma, though. I've made several revisions of Demonslayer in the past, mostly in the form of additions to the storyline. They've kept the same script though all of them. This new Demonslayer, this new tale written in parallel, is far too different. Simply replacing the old story with the new doesn't feel right. It seems unfair to the loyal friends who have believed in me thus far to make them buy another copy of the same title with different content.
In light of this, I plan on giving this new world another name. I might keep Demonslayer somewhere in the title, as a nod to what I've burned down and breathed new life into.
Perhaps now is the time to let glow the long yearned for name to rise from the ashes of Kaze's story, reborn.
Phoenix Fire.
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