Thursday, November 30, 2017


I didn’t sleep well last night despite taking an Ambien. I didn’t go to the office until I was contacted with a payroll problem. After that I went home and ate little green pills . The feedback I’ve received from some of my pre-readers has been disappointing and necessitate major rewrites. One pre-reader is always later than the rest, I believe I’m going to stop sending her chapters if I don’t get a response over the weekend. I think they don’t realize that I largely wait for the their feedback to keep writing. Maybe I need a break from writing.

Wednesday, November 29, 2017


Last night I went out for a retirement dinner for one of my favorite coworkers. I will miss her voice and the funny thing she says. She had over forty years of service credit. I saw my psychologist. We talked more about the people who have ghosted me and feeling like a failure as an author. I didn’t tell him about l___ blowing on my face. Like my psychiatrist he agreed I should be taking my Klonopins as prescribed rather than not taking them at all. I’m going forget my ghosts and travel alone and not invite anyone to come.

Tuesday, November 28, 2017


I talked with my psychiatrist for forty-five minutes today. That’s long for a psychiatrist appointment that isn’t an intake. I shared with her feelings I’ve been having that I haven’t even shared with my closest friends. It’s hard to separate the feeling of safety with her with love, but sometimes I want to collapse at her feet. We decided the pros outweigh the cons with me taking Klonopins, which I haven’t been taking for fear of getting a DUI. She introduced the idea I may have PTSD from watching Ashley die in the hospital. If true, I may never heal.

Monday, November 27, 2017


I think my mind is deteriorating. I sent out this email to the office that went over stuff that was already decided against in October 2015. People in my office know my memory often fails me. My old psychiatrist told me it was because of my meds, and my boss would rather me be forgetful than suicidal. But I wonder if it really is from meds. I'm older now. Maybe this is just the decline into dementia. I have a lot of pressures between work and writing, so maybe that is part of it. I'll probably forget writing this post.

Sunday, November 26, 2017


I did it again. I wrote so long and forgot to eat and had that dizzying experience again. I hope I’m not becoming diabetic. I had a blood test recently and it didn’t indicate that so I’m probably just being my usual hypochondriac self. At least I was able to rule out listening to Current 93 for days straight, as I listened to various versions of Five Years by David Bowie on repeat the entire time I was writing. Chapter Nineteen was short at 1,500 words; Chapter Twenty was even shorter at 997 words. I don’t know if it’s good.