uh oh i'm accidently turning on wss again uh oh i'm accidently going back to the beginning where no one is dead because this has become my comfort movie i guess

Hi! You always reblog really nice posts about mental health and writing, and I wanted to ask for advice! I’m struggling to focus on my writing. I spend the day thinking about scenes I want to improve etc, and when I can finally write I start doing something else, and then I waste my time with stupid shit on social media instead of doing what I wanted so badly! Do you have any tips that help concentrating? I turn off my Wi-Fi at times but my brain just keeps telling me to go check twitter or whatever, and I fall for it every time. :/ I write so slowly I lose a lot of nice stuff I make up in my head, I really wanted to get better at this. I love your blog, hope I’m not being annoying!!! Xxx

I am so sorry for the late response to this. I've been wrapped up in offline things and wanted to give you the proper consideration you deserve. You are absolutely not annoying - I'm sorry I've left you hanging for so long!

In terms of concentration, I don't know that I'm the best person to ask. I have an ADHD diagnosis and my meds help me focus. That's the simple answer, which I don't think is what you're hoping for.

BUT that being said, even with my meds, I also do the social-media-instead-of-writing thing and I completely understand how frustrating it is. I have ideas! They're good ones! But they evaporate the second I open the document, and to console myself, I seek out the instant dopamine of tumblr and pinterest, feeling guilty the entire time.

My question for you: are you trying to write everything in a straight line, or are you making notes for whichever scene is currently in your head? If I love a scene but I'm not there yet in terms of the overall story arc, I'll write that as it comes. I think of it as quilting: I come up with scenes like fabric squares, and then I can arrange and stitch them together as the narrative dictates. Sometimes they don't fit, and that's okay. Not all the fabric gets used in the quilt, but the simple act of writing benefits the whole. No writing is wasted.

There was a post here on tumblr that changed my entire outlook on living with ADHD, and it also applies to writing. I can't find the post right now, but it had to do with "junebugging": instead of forcing yourself to do a specific task, ie the dishes, you put yourself in the vicinity of the task, ie the kitchen, and putter around until you eventually get your hands in the sink. In the past, I would have been vicious to myself, cursing myself for my failure to just do the fucking thing, but if I'm a junebug - big and striped and a little dumb - I can bob around the lightbulb, occasionally harmlessly bonking against the glass in my single-minded pursuit of light. It's not my fault my executive function is fucked. It's just the way my brain is wired. Might as well embrace it.

It works for my writing too. If I'm not feeling particularly linear, I'll open the document and poke at what I've already written, or I'll brainstorm new stuff, or stitch some scenes together. I'd love to say I do this without judgement, because my therapist would be proud of me, but although I've gotten much better, I am still working on the whole "radical acceptance" thing.

And radical acceptance: it's hard. It's really hard, but it's so, so necessary. It can be true that you desperately want to write while also being true that you would much rather check twitter. These are not mutually exclusive. I want you to let go of that guilt, if you can. Like we say in my support group, if being hard on yourself worked, it would have worked by now.

Look at your writing. Ask yourself what is stopping you, what's got you snagged like a sleeve on a doorknob. Are you not sure how to proceed? Does the scene in your head not fit with what you've already written? A piece of advice I got years ago: if you're having a hard time writing a scene, the problem doesn't exist with the scene itself, it exists three pages back. It's like trying to solve a maze: sometimes if you get stuck in a corner, you have to backtrack and find a new path. This might mean getting rid of something you've written - don't delete it. Don't delete anything. Open a blank document and copy/paste it in there. Label this document "bits and pieces". You might be able to use those bits - those quilt squares - later. Another piece of advice: what exactly is the story you're trying to tell? I'm having issues with my novel. It's ostensibly a murder mystery, but the mystery part wasn't coming together until I admitted it wasn't really a murder mystery, but a love story between the protagonists. Admitting that let me change my focus from the whodunit - which I hadn't connected with and felt forced to continue - to the developing relationship, with the whodunit as the vehicle. Now it's working a lot better.

The last thing I'll say is that you might be burnt out. That's okay. Muscles can push against a weight for only so long, and creativity is the same. Are you dreading opening that document? Take a break from it. Junebug. Work on something else. Take a shower. Clean the sink. Read something else you've written. Read something written by someone else. A farmer can't work the same field all the time without the soil getting depleted. It needs some fallow time and maybe a nice cover crop to recover. This is part of the process.

Be kind to yourself, my friend. I hear a lot of pain in your voice and I want you to know that it's all right. It's going to be all right. Even if you're not writing right at this second, you are still a writer. You will always be. Every writer that ever lived has gone through what you're going through. You're never, ever alone.

Take care, and let me know how it goes.

Camp NaNoWriMo Week 2 Progress

Week 1 of NaNoWriMo went by pretty smoothly, so now it's time to move into week 2! My goal for this next week is to at least finish part 2, or get halfway done with it. I think it's a good goal since my parts are typically ≤10k words, so I'll stick with it!

Project Name: The Shifting Tides (side blog is @the-shifting-tides-wip)

Goal: 30k words

Tagline: Sometimes we must fight for a future we ourselves cannot see.

Genres: Fantasy, LGBT+, Romance, Adventure, Young Adult

Week 2 progress under the cut!

Day 8

Words typed: 1,104

Total words: 8,586

Times updated: 1

I know it seems like I wrote a lot of words, but it took me about 3 hours to write. I was feeling a little bit burnt out and tired due to preparing for the holidays this weekend, so I just didn't do very well. Regardless, I still surpassed my word count goal (979), so that's a plus!

Day 9

Words typed: 1,152

Total words: 9,738

Times updated: 1

Next update I'll (hopefully) be ⅓ of the way completed with Camp NaNo! I can't believe I've made it this far, as I honestly expected myself to completely give up by now.

Either way, our main cast has finally met each other. They aren't on very good terms yet, on account of the fact Saran and co. are being held prisoner by the pirates, but next chapter I expect Saran to warm up to one of the pirates!

Day 10

Words typed: 1,010

Total words: 10,748

Times updated: 1

I finally reached it! I have 10,000+ words out of 30,000, so I'm a third of the way to my goal! This is the part where Saran meets one of the other pirates, who he'll eventually become friends with in the future. She's an important character, one I'll be introducing us to in a post that'll be coming in a few days...

Day 11

Words typed: 1,819

Total words: 12,567

Times updated: 2

I wrote half of these words in the morning, and then the last half after dinner. I feel like it went well, but honestly this was the worst day. I just returned to college after a break, so I was really burnt out.

Day 12

Words typed: 472

Total words: 13,039

Times updated: 1

I know, I know. I didn't update as much as I should have. But honestly, it was a really long day at college. We had a big campus-wide event going on so I didn't even get back to my dorm until way later in the evening (about 10:30). So I was TIRED. But I'm still on track! I have to be at 13k words by tomorrow, which I will be!

Day 13

Words typed: 1,261

Total words: 14,417

Times updated: 1

I definitely write a lot more than I did yesterday, which I feel good about! Tomorrow is Friday, which means I'll have a lot more time to work. I wasn't having a lot of fun writing, but I still got it done which is a win in my book.

Day 14

Words typed: 963

Total words: 15,263

Times updated: 2

At with that, we've reached two weeks of continuous updating! Tomorrow I'll be halfway done with Camp NaNo, and I couldn't be more proud of myself! Technically, I reached half of my word count goal today, which is awesome!

@the-wip-project

Just something...

Not giving this one a number as I just feel like writing but with no structure or great wisdom. I'm kidding myself, of course, if I think there's great wisdom in the numbered posts. What I meant was that there is no plan today, just writing what comes to mind. I used to have imaginary friends when I was younger. I used them as a way to employ the rubber duck method where you try to explain a problem to someone in the simplest terms possible and in doing so you find the solution. Maybe I just created them as someone to blame my stupidity, my compassion on. At the time, I thought I could only be smart by being a cold and calculating machine. I created a whole world that I could dip into and, with my imaginary friends forming a sort of secret organisation, fight all the evils of my mind. All the evils were of course personified in personifications of Death from various media, such as Davy Jones, Moby Dick, Dracula (not a personification of Death but very evil none the less), Rattlesnake Jake and at their head, a cloaked skeleton. Of course, my council was formed of my favourite characters from various media, occasionally being changed over the years- Dekka Talent, Klaus Baudelaire, Moxie Mallahan, Edward Nygma (Gotham version), the Doctor, Pietro Bergamo and Hornet (from the Thief Lord). Anyway, enough about the chaos that my mind once was. I've never really told anyone about all that and I've only really told a drop in the ocean of the world in my mind. Maybe I just created it to seem too smart. I was a very arrogant little shit and I still am in a way, just less of the little. I still have my diary from back then. I kept it so that I could get back into my mind from when I was a teenager so I would "be able to understand when I had kids". What a load of shit. I only keep it now to see what I have risen above. But sometimes I think I haven't changed a single bit. Here I am, still writing to my future self, confessing bull shit secrets to an endless abyss just to make myself feel like someone is listening, like someone gets me! But alas, the one person who ever thought like me is about to emigrate and I pushed her away anyway. I can't do relationships, I get into them for the novelty, the change, the thrill of it. And then it fades (the honeymoon phase I think it's called) and feelings and emotions are shared and suddenly I can't deal with the trauma (usually theirs) and put on some reflective music, write in my diary/ blog and then slowly drift away from my flirty/ cheerful side until all that they see is the raw, cold side of me. The side that can't stand talking to other people, let alone telling them how I feel or about how I used to create imaginary friends to blame all my mistakes on. Maybe I'll meet the person for me. Maybe I'm better off alone until I can change myself to be more compatible and trusting. I was once told we all need therapy, just to different degrees. Funnily enough, my views on that change far too often. Right now, a cup of tea, sad songs and a good book are all I need. Maybe a log fire and rain pitter-pattering down the window. I can't stand it sometimes. Why are emotions so demanding and complicated? My mind says stay focussed until you are sorted, my body says just have fun and my emotions demand love and something to totally trust so everything can finally be poured out. Basically, my emotions want to do exactly what I'd hate to happen to me. I fucking hate my emotions. Sometimes I wish I lived in a house in a valley with books and a cosy little village just down the road where everything I have ever needed is. Other times I wish that I could indulge my darkest fantasies, none of which would be wise to mention here (think Breaking Bad but with more plutonium) and other times I just want to lie in bed with someone who I know accepts me and who I can cry with, who I can laugh with and someone who knows when to hug me, when to make me some tea and when to simply sit down in the chair opposite, say nothing and leave me to read. Once again, I fucking hate emotions.

CALI-BLOG!

Blog title: "Introducing Me, CAYLIE VEGA!"

Written in: July 29, 2020

Edited: April 10, 2020

Hi fam! So this is yours truly, Caylie Vega aka Caliversustheworld. And yes I'm a foreign invader from outerspace who's quite obsessed with writing, daydreaming, reading, making cartoons/arts, binge-watching animes, and listening to music especially rock. I used plenty of pseudonyms before settling down to my new name (Caylie Vega aka CVTW), due to some "personal" reasons of course.

Moving on from that part, I started becoming a writer since I was like 9 years old. I am a certified bookworm and I wanted to write the idea that just popped out of my head, so my first story was like written in a stolen piece of yellow paper from my parent's room, and it was a tale about a certain magical angel mermaid whatsoever. Let's just say that she was a product of both Angel and mermaid blah bla blah. That story was followed by another children's masterpiece which was entitled, "BEA THE BEE" and had some cute illustrations in every page. And just as when I fin'lly reach my last year in Elementary (writing for academic purposes since 4th grade isn't counted) I wrote another fairytale story again, and this time was about a statue princess. Innocent as it may be seen, those pre-writer works are all just made out of unutterable boredom, no aspirations involved. What truly moved me to dream of becoming a published author someday is when I discovered about the glorious existence of electronic books. Teenfiction e-books are totally different from the usual non-fiction/academic books I used to read during my boring childhood. The context is awfully written and there's so many loopholes and grammatical errors like adding some unnecessary things like emojis or exaggerated sound effects like, "BOOOOOOGGGSHSHSH!" "SPPPLUUURTRT!" "SKADOOOSHHHHH!!!!". I also noticed that the authors are prefer informal character point of views instead of using the omniscient perspective. However, It's not like I'm criticizing those minor flaws but I rather find it amusing in a way that I like how funky and deviant it is from the standard — it's like eating ice cream in a new flavor. In simpler terms, I fell in love with e-books like how should girls my age fell in love with their first love.

And because of that stimulus, I began to aspire writing novels — solely for fun and curiosity. However, if you think that I've already published a lot of works already because I started from that age, well that's a big mistake. In fact, I haven't. I do but can't even finish one due to my "writer's block" syndrome. Having this as a condition is one of my greatest challenges in this endeavor. It makes me frustrated enough to doubt myself, if whether I was born to become a writer or nah. Year by year, I always come up with a lot of good story ideas (a whole village of 'em) but none of them are finished or even written in the first place, 'cause it's either I keep them hidden in the darkest part of my mind or I always ends up stopping after losing all the enthusiasm in the middle of writing it. I know, that feeling is horrible. I also wanna smack myself but what else can I do anyway? I'm emotionally vulnerable, I easily get inspired and fired up like how I easily get tired and depressed at the same time. Whenever I get the chance to read other people's works, I always tend to feel frustrated with my own when I shouldn't be comparing my chapter 1 to other people's chapter 50. Guess I should've known better.

I kept on asking why God seems like preventing me to do it, until 2020 happened to me. Amidst this life-changing global pandemic, I have learned a lot of things not just from my own self-realizations but also from the online communities I recently joined in. I finally understood that making novels isn't meant for me during my younger years because it's waiting for my growth as a writer now. Before, I thought writing is just a hobby, but now it feels like a permanent career opportunity that I would love to do even when I grew old. I used to think that novels are just written for fun, now I am seeing it in a better, professional perspective. I wanna be a writer whose works give positive impact to my readers. I wanna be a writer whose works are written beautifully like how great painters do their crafts. I wanna be a writer whose works passed the ethical and moral standards of my target demographics and also to our community. (but If I'd still crossed some borderlines, I'd always put a warning about reader's discretion)

So, I decided to break the barricades and write a story for real starting this year — without stopping halfway anymore. I also tried to assess what could possibly be my mistakes from the past (of why I'm feeling the WB syndrome) so I can make a new strategy that I can use against it. From an innocent-writer-wannabe, I finally graduated as a plotter novelist. Yes, I plot my stories now before drafting them. I'm also setting a writing schedule daily so I won't miss the deadline I pinned for myself.

Anyways, thank you so much for reading aliens! Watch out for my next update while stay safe from COVID19. Keep invading and get crazy romantic! 🌷

@its-whitetomorrow

I appreciate that you take the time out of your day to read my witterings, and respond to them in detail, but I'm somewhat intellectually limited and it takes a while to write an answer.

The final one is a bit of a problem. The original post is long, your bit is long, and my addition is probably twice both put together.

Did you know Tumblr has a limit: no more than two hundred and fifty text blocks per post? I discovered this from experience, unsurprisingly.

I think the only solution is to split it across several posts.

I wasn't going to say anything, but I suppose I should.

I started this blog last May, to relieve the boredom of my main embarrassment, whose only likes (all three of them) were from porn bots.

It wasn't even meant to be about Pokémon. I'd left the fandom years previously. It was odds and ends, but I happened to find a few silly screen shots so wrote a couple of joke remarks, not expecting a ripple of interest.

Within a couple of hours I got more notes than t'other's managed even to this day. I had the idea this was where I was more at home, so I started taking it seriously.

My pseudonym was just daft thing I'd made up previously, to reflect that, whilst still in love with old days, I'm not exactly pleased with how it's gone.

I thought it might stand out as memorable, plus I like acronyms, so it affords me the opportunity to call myself 'T.A.P.'

In the early days the focus was on the 'maniac' aspect. Anger as a description didn't fit at all. The farther back you go, the more stupid and clownish it gets. It's not been like this all the way through!

Seriously, it used to be an entertainment blog, designed to make people laugh. It's all ages: no swearing, no porn, nothing to put anyone off.

(This post under discussion contains the only profanity I've ever deployed. I thought saving it up might add some oomph.)

I mean it, it's was all light-hearted ridicule. Every so often, there would be a slightly cutting remark, but mild compared to now.

Then, last September, someone I spoke to regularly, who assured me we were friends, suddenly cut off all contact.

At first I wasn't aware of it, but by October it became too glaring a silence to ignore.

I thought rifts started because of massive disagreements, but as far as I remembered our last exchange ended normally.

I found out by accident that the reason for it was because I am repugnant and morally inferior and so swollen with my own ego that the existence of others doesn't register. Instead they are but soulless droids built to worship the great T.A.P. mollusc.

Well that was news to me. I had no idea I came across like that. As far as I knew, I was on my best behaviour when we interacted.

I was polite. I tried to be ingratiate myself. I kept talk to the fandom. I didn't pry. I attempted humour when the opportunity arose.

I thought I'd done all I could to be liked, but apparently I hadn't. It was a revolting experience for them, for all of saying they loved me and I was 'honey'.

It really, really, really got to me, and the feeling hasn't abated, if anything it's worse.

As I said, I don't know what I did wrong, and because I don't, I can't mend my ways. If I am this repellant waste of flesh I'd like to change, but if I'm not told my offence, what am I meant to do?

If what I thought was the best I could be wasn't good enough, and instead was so sickening I don't deserve their presence, then I have no idea how to interact with people.

Maybe every time I respond to someone, thinking I'm at worst, civil, is really grotesque conceit, because my arrogance is so extreme I'm not even aware it's there. In my head it sounds normal.

It'd be too easy to scoff that they were the one with the problem, but, given all the arguments that happen in life, it can't always be someone else's fault. It's got to be you at least once.

They obviously think they were justified, so who's to say they weren't?

You may say not to let it worry me, that I should just get over it, and you'd be totally right. Being bothered makes me feel pathetic and petty on top of the rest, but this is me you're talking to, not a sane person. Self-hatred is more instinctive to me than breathing.

I always dwell on the negative. If one hundred people were assembled, ninety-nine of whom declared me the most wonderful being ever to live, and one remarked I wasn't all that special, it's him I'd remember. 

It's called ghosting because that's what happens. There comes a moment when you accept that, no, it's over, rejected again, and it's like realising I'd died, and had been gone for a while.

Except I hadn't noticed the process, so I was always dead in a way, and they spoke to the silvery silhouette left behind, until that too dispersed into untraceable nothingness. Again,  the silence is my fault for dying, not theirs.

I feel there's no point in messaging anyone, because I'll only disgust them too. Some blogs encourage contact, and when I see it I always think:

Yeah, but they don't mean YOU.

If it's another person I already spoke to, I can't shut up. I bombard them with text in the hope they know I don't think they're a menial droid. Every one I immediately regret, and wish I could take back, because that will irritate them until I'm just a sad, nagging past.

The Ghost-Maker used to reblog 99% of my work. This dropped to nothing overnight, so not only am I worthless, but so is everything I do.

Posts G.M. didn't like got 0-5 notes. Ones they did had 20+. Many a time, it took their reblog for anyone else to notice.

It was like others used that blog as a filter to pull the fool's gold from the murk of this one. Once their favour evaporated, so did a lot of the goodwill from elsewhere, so it's was as if Tumblr agreed I was scum.

Saying that above just shows they were right, because it takes one smug bastard to believe their existence registers with anyone else.

Please don't think I'm demanding likes, that my stuff deserves them, although as I'm arrogant I am. It's just that 99% to 0% is a bit of a fall.

Up til then, I held back much of what I thought about the current state of the anime, as they liked it, but now I have no reason to stop.

If I'm to be accused of all these vices I might as well have them. I'm dead, so who cares what I say? No one listens to a ghost.

It's not that I'm unconcerned if I upset anyone, it's just the truth that I don't matter enough for what I write to be valued enough to offend.

As a ghost, I think of this blog as invisible. It's there, but not really, so how can anyone mind?

Incidentally, the first week I was here I got blocked by someone who hates all fans from the Nineties. I don't care about that, as they sound like a cretin, and I'd have to be defective to gain their approval.

I just want to say I find that moronic. I don't hate new fans at all. I wouldn't block someone because we disagreed.

Blocking denies people access to your blog, stating they don't deserve your ART. That's arrogant to me.

Blocker likes Ghost-Maker, but...

Ever since around October, I've progressively become angrier and angrier. Whenever I'm here or Pokémon enters my head, it just reminds that I'm pond slime, about the most crude, malformed half-life freak you can envision.

I don't like being here anymore. I keep intending to leave, the site and the fandom, and set fire to it all before I go, wipe away the slug trail to spare people's stomachs.

I kept quiet until now, but holding it in just made it more intense. If I may describe myself in ridiculously flattering terms, I feel like a shaken champagne bottle, but the cork is welded in, so the only option is for the glass to shatter.

If anyone's reading this, wondering where the fun went, well this is why I flipped. The red mist won't clear. I can't see beyond it.

I won't name Ghost-Maker, because I don't want to start anything, plus most will take their side. They may see this as they still rifle round these parts occasionally for posts that aren't mine.

Well done, Ghostie. You're the lucky one. We'll never meet and you haven't seen me. Pity the poor sods I've encountered. There must be vomit trails across the land provoked by my vile condition. I wasn't aware of this until you let me in on the secret.

There's an English television presenter called Caroline Flack. She killed herself yesterday and everyone loved her. I feel guilty that I'm alive and she's not.

Post # 6 - It is what it is

I'd be lying if I said I haven't spent the past half an hour with tears flowing from my eyes staring at a blank screen wondering how I'm going to get everything I've got floating in my head out. I suppose listening to Coldplay live in Argentina probably wasn't the best choice of music to set the mood. I'll work on that one in the future...

Where do I start? It's been a question I'm often asking myself at the start of these blog posts and it's certainly not the easiest one. What do you guys know? There's been so much happen since my last post on Thursday night.

Friday July 26th: I saw my doctors around lunchtime who came in quite concerned. Whilst they were confident my lymphoma was one called DLBCL (Diffuse Large B- Cell Lymphoma), some tests had come back with suspect results that it could be a more aggressive and harsh type of lymphoma called Burkitt's lymphoma and if confirmed, chemo was starting that night with no time to waste. There was also one marked in the middle (a cross of the two) called Burkitt's Like Lymphoma which is treated similarly to DLBCL. Whatever it was, I couldn't change it. I just wanted answers and if treatment needed to start, let's get it underway!

Adam, my incredible haematology doctor sent off another test of my gall bladder to finally get the confirmation I was after. It was urgent. He had to know. It was reassuring of Adam to state "Justin, we need to know what this is. Preliminary results are due back later this afternoon and that will hopefully rule out Burkitt's. if it is Burkitt's, we'll start chemo tonight and I'll be with you every step of the way - even if I have to stay back a few hours."

I know doctors earn a fair coin on a lazy day, but how many give you that much confidence that you and your health is important to them? I'm going to have it a guess and say not many but alas, I am so incredibly lucky with the team of doctors I have.

4:00pm and Adam strolls in the door heading straight for my room. My heart drops, similarly to what it had when Michael dropped the news I had lymphoma. "Good news. Preliminary results are back and we're confident it's not Burkitt's. You can't rule out anything in life, so there still is a small chance it could be. We're happy to wait for the final results on Monday, figure out a treatment plan from there and start Chemotherapy next week. Spend Saturday and Sunday on day leave and I'll see you next week."

This was news to my ears. In a time of what has been negative or no news, I could spend the weekend with family relatively freely and forget everything was happening for a few hours each day. My Uncle Bob and Aunty Denise were down from Tasmania to see me, as was my Aunty AJ and cousins from Bairnsdale so it all felt like it fit into place.

Friday night saw me considerably more relaxed with this news...that was until Collingwood started and it was the demolition it was. Slightly humorous side note, the nurse came in around 9pm for my nightly observations. Naturally, my heart rate was up a bit more than normal watching the football (118BPM - normally between 70-85BPM). This caused the nurse to call in the team of doctors who wanted to put me on an ECG machine for the night and monitor my heart. I assured them it was because Collingwood were on and if they gave me an hour, I'd be okay. It took some convincing, but it finally worked. Back they came an hour later and it had gone down - crisis averted.

Saturday afternoon and evening was wonderful. I went down to dads for dinner and was fortunate enough to spend some much needed time with family over a beautiful dinner and good laugh.

Sunday was much the same. I went home, mum did a fair chunk of washing for me as I spent it being me. Seeing Courtney, napping in my own bed and even headed over to Fountain Gate and got some much needed new clothes and other miscellaneous items - something that seems so simple but is such a luxury when you've spent the past 15 days in hospital.

Monday July 29th: They say the more you think positively, the more positive news you shall receive....or it goes something like that right? I woke up this morning the most upbeat and best I'd felt in weeks. I felt fine. I felt no pain, almost like I'd woken up from a shitty hotel! In all honesty, I felt like I'm abusing the system however I keep being quickly reminded how much I need to be here. Did I wake up so positive because I lived my old life for 16 hours over the weekend? Is it because I was hoping to hear a reasonably positive outcome with this lymphoma test? Probably a mix of both if I'm honest. But whatever it was, I was hopeful.

Adam came around at roughly 10:00am. Didn't really have much for me in terms of news but more of an outline of the day. If they hear the results of the test they were waiting on, they'd write me up a treatment plan ASAP and get chemo started this afternoon. At worst, I'd be starting it tomorrow (Tuesday). They just needed that definitive answer of what type of lymphoma I have - an answer I'd love more than anybody.

Either way, we agreed i'd need a PICC (Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter) line in which basically is a long-term cannula. It runs from the inside of my arm right up and around and stops basically just outside my heart. This is for easy access for the chemotherapy and even an easy exit for blood tests - something that's proven incredibly difficult to take from me over the past few days. Additionally, these lines can last up to six months verses the three days you get from a cannula. There were too many positives to say no to!

This wasn't scheduled for any time in particular, so 1:00pm came around and I was about to be taken to get the PICC line in.

Just as I was about to leave, Adam came in with a few words I'm all too familiar with. "Well, the pathology tests we were waiting on have come back inconclusive..."

Woah. Wait. What? How do tests of my gall bladder that was removed six days ago come back inconclusive? How does one of the main sources not have enough 'data' to tell them what sort of lymphoma I have? I was just stunned.

Adam continued "As a result, we can see some signs of Burkitt's lymphoma and that's what we're going to treat you for. You're young. You should be able to handle it and it's better to over treat you than under treat and be stuck where we are at the moment. It's an intense 16-day chemo treatment that will totally wipe out your red and white blood cells as well as your platelets. We foresee you being in here for another 3-5 weeks, depending on how well your body goes getting these levels back up to normal post this first treatment..."

I honestly say this but that's all I remember from this conversation. I was hoping I'd be heading home this week but looks like that definitely won't be happening. Today marks day 40 of the past 55 days in hospital (day 15 of this stint) and if I go off the longest suggested time expected, I have another 35 days to go. That honestly crushed me.

I got taken down to get my PICC line in - quite an easy process. Very similar to putting in a larger cannula, just a whole lot longer and uses local anaesthetic as well as being guided by an ultrasound and X-ray. I'm lucky enough to have two ports, which will hopefully speed up some of my medication and how much they can pump in. Does it feel weird? The only weird part was feeling it slide down past and near my heart - but that's okay now!

By the time I return, dad made his was in to try and help process the news. We get Adam in to once again explain the process. In layman's terms, I'll be starting an intense and high-dose 16-day chemotherapy program kicking off tomorrow (Tuesday) morning. Most of the time across the next 16 days, I'll be hooked up via IV drip getting whatever medication is required. I think I saw I have rest days on days 7 & 8 which I suppose will give me two days to look forward to. At the end of the day, it's something I'm not certain on and will be a day by day process and constant learning about what's going into my body to help fight with me.

I do have one request for you all. With my body not producing red or white blood cells or platelets over the next few weeks, I do request if you are planning to visit however are sick to stay away those extra few days. With my immune system going to be at the lowest it's been, I don't particularly want to pick up something I don't need. Additionally, as much as I'd love flowers, they're also banned due to the infection risk of the spores mixing with the chemotherapy and causing some dangerous damage from the inside.

At the end of the day, if you're not sure please message me and check as I'm not entirely sure myself about everything. I'm constantly learning as I'm going.

How am I feeling? I'm nervous. I'm nervous at the unknown. How will this affect me? How bad am I going to feel? Will I lose my hair? What will my energy levels be like? In advance, I do apologise if over the next few weeks I'm not myself. Truth be told, that's because I probably won't be.

In a way, i'm finally excited to start my treatment first thing tomorrow morning (after yet ANOTHER lumbar puncture). I was so envious of both people next to me getting their first rounds of chemo today. I know mine will be intense but I just can't wait.

I've learnt so much about cancer and chemotherapy over the past four days and I know there's so much more to learn. Today I learnt I'll be incredibly highly cytotoxic, which basically means all needles and anything used on me need to go in a separate bin just for me. Additionally, I'll have to get used to the good old double flush after the toilet to ensure all waste is disposed of. Mouth ulcers are a big issue with most chemo patients as well. I'll have to start brushing my teeth after every meal and taking a special mouthwash 3x daily to assist with keeping these under control. There's plenty of other little things, but they're two I least expected.

Everything really hit me last night....not like it did tonight though. I just had twenty minutes to reflect and it just became a sudden realisation. What I'm going through is real. It's not a 'joke' anymore. It's not something they're looking at as a potential cause. It is the cause. I have a legitimate medical issue and it's finally time to fight lymphoma. All well and good to be talking the talk like I have been - it's now time to walk the walk. This sits well with me. If I give somebody my word, I do whatever I can to get it achieved. Unfortunately for the lymphoma throughout my body I've given it my word and it's time to fight it. Round one begins tomorrow morning.

I leave tonight feeling a whole lot better than I did when I started tonight's post. I didn't learn from my words earlier as Coldplay live from Argentina is still playing however I'm in a much more comfortable mind space.

My best friend of a lazy 20 years, Dylan visited tonight with his partner, Jacqui. One phrase popped up more than most and they made me aware it was a common phrase coming out of my mouth.

"It is what it is."

I can't control what's happened to me as "it is what it is." What I can control from here though is how I fight lymphoma. Thanks for the visit tonight guys, I appreciated the two hours spent here in what's been an incredibly tough afternoon.

Much love.

Juzz xx

Write or Left 01

Photo by Hey Beauti Magazine on Unsplash 

If you went out like me, I hope you take the day to recuperate before work or school 'cause I'm sure we're all looking a lil busted today. If you didn't, I'm glad you welcomed in the year safely.

With the help of a planner and supplemental pages found online, I intend to make this year for this blog the most meaningful. In addition, my Goodreads challenge has nearly doubled to 30. I was one shy of 25 so I figured why not make a real challenge since I saw what reading I was capable of with working full time and managing the site. I'll be allowing myself to read older publications, but I'm still reading 2019 titles each month too. Before I introduce them, I just want you to know that just because it's a new year, you don't have to set goals now. You can set a goal to accomplish at anytime of the year, so never feel obligated to do what society has marked as a reset date.

An Anonymous Girl by Greer Hendricks & Sarah Pekkanen

* Jessica Farris signs up for a psychology study for a quick and easy cash payout, however she becomes the victim of an obsessed and manipulative psychiatrist.

The Plotters by Un-su Kim

* Reseng is one of Seoul's top hitmen until he takes pity on a target and then find himself a target in the organized crime world he comes from.

Confessions by Kanae Minato

* A teacher is traumatized by a tragedy that befalls a middle school and she offers her resignation, but not before she gets her revenge on the student body that is to blame.

You won't find my thoughts on the picks here, instead they'll be posted to Instagram. I didn't intend to start the year off so dark...yet here we are.

The most important feature this month is the creative writing focus. I was semi-transparent with you in November when I participated in NaNoWriMo, but I want to make that part of journey more visible this year. Every writing month is based off of the previous month's GoScribbler box and they started me off with my favorite part of writing -- characters. I'm the queen of creating characters and scenarios scenarios and never writing them down. I've got two OCs I've held onto dearly for years. The first is Constance Faye. Sometimes he's a medical examiner and other times he's a funeral director who's widowed and communicates with spirits. The other is Elliot Roman Crow, a Southern slick-mouthed grim reaper or liquor store owner prone to possessions and is haunted by an entity that destroyed his childhood.

Because Elliot's character is 2 years old, he garners attention than Constance, who I've carried for almost 5. I want to equally split my writing between the two in order to get reacquainted with my first because there'd be no Elliot without Constance. In the days leading up to the new year, I had three where I wrote down scenes involving Elliot, so I better bring that same energy into writing these next 31 days! I take the easy way out and always place the two in scenarios where I know how they'll react so I’ll be challenging myself to create unexpected events to bring new complexities to their characters.

A long term goal is to find a plot somewhere in my writing to ultimately lay the foundation for a novel. During these odd numbered months I want to establish and nurture the confidence needed to do such a thing. I've amassed 3 notebooks just for this year. One for writing these posts, one for my random writing bursts and one for when I finally begin a writing project. Also during these months I'll share at least one small piece of my writing with the community on Instagram, so I need to write and polish something decent enough to be seen by others.

Next week we'll take a late look into my GoScribbler box, but until then I hope you've found some good books to start your year off with, drafted up an idea that you're ready to write about or accepted resolutions you're ready to take on. I can't wait to see what we all accomplish in the next 12 months!

Happy reading and writing, 

A

Hi I wanted to ask you a question about being bisexual. I think I might be but I'm not sure, I've never kissed anyone. I think I kind of have a crush on my girl friend but I'm not sure if I just crave affection and intimacy or ?? I was just wondering how did you know?? If you can't answer any of my questions it's cool, I love you and your blog

well i sort of grew up learning that you’re either straight or gay and that’s it. i was super religious in high school and believed at one point that being gay was a choice, so while journaling about religious stuff at age 16, i remember writing “if i wasn’t a christian i’d be a lesbian.” which, like, what the heck that’s so ridiculous lmao. 

so i knew i liked girls probably around the age of 15. i had a “people i’d date if i were a lesbian” list, and during my freshman year i was friends with a senior girl and she and i,,,,,,,,were really into each other. she’s my first real life crush that i can recall. my dad was actually the one who pointed it out to me and guessed that i was gay because of my relationship with that girl. 

toward the end of high school i thought i just needed to have a “lesbian experience” in order to “get it out of my system.” (i’m cringing just writing this shit btw.) so after graduation my gay best friend and i (oh, my best friend of 12 years came out to me during our senior year of high school and that kickstarted my conversion away from homophobia) went to a gay club and i danced with a girl and was like hooray there it was, there was my gay experience, now i can go be straight for the rest of my life.

cue college. by the time i got to college, i was finally beginning to accept that not everything is black and white, you don’t choose to be gay, and just because i liked boys doesn’t mean i couldn’t also like girls. i didn’t plan on doing anything about it, though. it would just be a little secret i kept locked away for the rest of my life. aaaaaand that’s when i met my college girlfriend. 

she was also super religious and had absolutely no clue whatsoever that she wasn’t perfectly straight. she would make that joke from parks and rec about us being “tragically heterosexual” and by that point i really should’ve corrected her but i wasn’t out to anybody so i didn’t say anything. the thing about growing up super christian is that u learn all these rules about how to interact with boys, what age you’re allowed to date, how long you’re allowed to kiss them, whether it’s appropriate or not to be in a vertical position with them, nonsense like that. what you DON’T learn is how to set those same weird boundaries with GIRLS. so my gf and i would sleep in the same bed together and cuddle all night long but we were both girls haha so it was cool and we could still wear our purity rings. 

we danced around each other for almost an entire year before finally sleepily making out with each other in the middle of the night in my dorm room bed. and then we didn’t talk about it. for an entire week. until it happened again. 

that was really what pulled me out of the closet. she and i had the same group of friends so we couldn’t exactly....hide...what was happening. so i finally started using the term bisexual to describe myself, and unfortunately since i was super christian i moved in christian circles and had a lot of christian friends and,,,,,absolutely none of them responded well to my coming out. hence why i’m not super religious today. 

idk if this answers your question at all, but i guess i knew because i was attracted to girls similarly to how i was attracted to boys. it took a lot of yanking and pulling to get me out of the closet, though. college helps. having a gay friend helps. a curvy, short-haired latina girl helps.