I've been working on the manuscript for my second memoir, Bipolar Courage: are you sure you're not autistic?
The book is mainly about an intense online connection with an autistic man, whom I have called Maxwell. Xavier is my son who shares a diagnosis of Asperger's Syndrome with Maxwell. Leo is Xavier's father. Patricia is a psychologist (she said she's honoured to be in the book, by the way). All names are changed, of course.
I've just written a draft section that might be still be condensed or even have some edited out. I wanted to share the extract here, under 'Maternity Ring.'
Two unexpected blog posts tonight, while listening to music and culling digital files. I managed to delete a whole heap of raw videos from a hard drive. Copied over a few nature ones from a few years ago, in case I make a composite video or two for my channel (waterfalls etc). I do more visual type stuff when having a break from working on my books.
I have destroyed various awards etc over the years. When sorting, came across this, which is (nearly) the only thing connected to an award I won over a decade ago. There's actually still a YouTube video of me made by someone else, but it's in my old name, so I don't want to link it. I requested media to take anything down about me under my old name, which they did. These awards don't even exist anymore. I destroyed the certificate after someone lied that I paid for it.
Currently listening to music, while deleting raw videos (most of which went onto my now archived vlog as Bipolar Courage. No intentions of writing a blog post. Listening to music makes tedious tasks less tedious. Decluttering my digital files now and again is like decluttering my mind. I have privated a good chunk of the videos, which mainly serve as a library for myself, when I want to check on various themes when I am writing.
I let the songs choose themselves, just skipping if I don't like something. 'Don't Speak' (No Doubt) was playing when I got up to these photos. My old laptop smashed with a sledgehammer. It's symbolic why I did it. I might detail in my novel exactly why I did it. (Clue: diagnosed with shut down presentation of PTSD).
I did a bit of work on my memoir this past week. Then, tonight, I decided to have another sort out. Some things got burned, some put into another location. It's like sorting out my mind, as I've processed things. Whatever I have kept has the potential to be used later, creatively.
I'd lived in the same house for 18 years and then after that, I moved house a lot. I can't be bothered working out the number but it's probably over 20 times. I never actually owned a bed before, on my own. Any bed (and the odd couch) I'd slept in was either owned by someone else or was co-owned. I got married in my early twenties (now divorced).
Divorce is a painful thing to go through but on the flip side, I don't need to try please someone else at my own expense. I don't see myself getting married again. I can't even be bothered dating. I am too busy with my own projects. It's actually freeing to have this mindset.
Today, for the first time ever, at the age of 50, I bought a bed. All by myself. My own bed. I'm really adulting now (best I can with my disabilities).
Disclaimer: the author of this blog is not an expert by profession and her opinions should not be taken as expert advice.