In sorting through and trying to deal with the trauma I've been in, I've realized a couple things.
I was always a storyteller. I unfortunately was convinced that I would never make money writing, that it was something I could do in my spare time (guess what, you cant), and I need to get a "real" job. I'm good with science and my dad really pushed medicine on me. I could do it, learn it, understand it, and everything, but ultimately it wasn't giving me the joy I found with writing early on. I did find joy in helping patients, working behind the scenes to help people get their diagnoses, and I helped a lot of people.
So now I cant work, because I'm sick. I have some kind of issue with my collagen because I sublux my large joints often, and every single joint in my body cracks. The joints in my ribcage pop and get put out of place. I can easily move my patella around quite easily which I recently found out not everyone can do. When I worked at the Clinic I subluxed my hip at least once AT WORK, and had to look up a video to try to put my hip back in right when I took a bathroom break to fix it. There's also this cool thing I can do where if I pull a drawer open, my index finger and pinky will shoot electricity straight to my elbow. I was also suffering from being constantly on the brink of passing out. I stopped seeing out the periphery of my vision because it was always just a constant creeping darkness. Compression socks have helped but there are still days that no matter what I do to fix my BP it doesn't work, because my veins are just not elastic enough to go back to normal anymore. I was literally working myself into pieces. Still, I miss that job a lot, the friends I made especially.
I'm looking into housing that we can afford on my partners income because I clearly cant work anymore, I literally fall apart. But I at least still have my writing. I'm going to finally finish my novel, but I suck at writing all the time so I am trying to write a little every day until it becomes more routine. Hopefully I'll be able to finish my book this year.
I abandoned my own dreams so easily, which is sad, but I was in a lot of pain for a long time and suffering alone without much help. At least I have all the time in the world now to write my heart out. I have even taken up other things that I always dreamed of having, like a garden. I would be incredibly happy to have a greenhouse because I want to grow a devil's hand tree and some other tropical plants, for spiritual stuff. I want to grow mexican marigold because I want to make a real Dia de Los Muertos altar this year, so I can spend time with my deceased friends and family.
Before I get to cracking on my novel, I think I want to do some short stories on Aztec gods. I have been reading into Aztec mythology again and I would like to write a story about them kind of like how Neil Gaiman did American Gods. The complex mythology is something that no one really talks about, and its so cool, how could you not? I was also thinking of trying out some public domain stories and what I can make with them. I just want to write more and I have been saving creative writing pins to play with in an attempt to write every day.
For my next EMDR session I think I want to work on some of the racist stuff I had to deal with as a kid and now. There's enough racism I deal with on a daily basis, and it was pretty bad when I was a kid. I could also work on my traumatic relationship with the piece-of-shit-who-shall-not-be-named, or my sociopathic ex Jack, or the trauma of just working through the american health care system. I dunno, maybe I'll roll some dice to decide.
Hopefully in the next few days I'll be writing in this every day. <3