I am currently sorting my minimal possessions, preparing to move, as the house (not my house) is on the market. I came across a printed copy of a blog post from a deleted blog from around 2008 (15 years ago). The blog was when my name was a pen name (now my legal name).
Only a few snippets of my writing survived.
I wrote the blog post when I was diagnosed with 'treatment resistant' depression and generalised anxiety disorder (later changed to bipolar 1 disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder, PTSD).
Note: this is not legal advice.
I was going to write these tips at the end of my previous blog post, You Need to Make Your Will. But as I tend to have a lot to say, I decided to make a fresh blog post.
I am a very intuitive and visionary person and I had already thought about this recently, before my Dad died. Yes, I can be melancholic at times.
Your writing may or may not endure, if you die. I'll tell you why, as I've learned this in my journey of blogging then writing books. I've set things up, so my heirs inherit my copyrighted works, whether they want to try to make money from them or not.
Note: this is not legal advice.
I have been avoidant about doing my will since my marriage breakup and divorce. I've been processing grief (mainly from being separated from my son by country) for years. The grief was tangled with my trauma and I am grateful that I had paid for therapy over the past 5 years, which has helped me to be able to cope with recent events.
My Dad died just over a week ago. He had a will and made known verbally his wishes, yet after the shitshow that happened (which I am not going to detail), I have made it an urgent priority to do my will. I also hadn't bothered as I own hardly anything.
After talking to a solicitor, he had me come in the next day. My will should be ready to sign and it will be lodged in secure deposit by Monday. I shouldn't have to ever do another one.
Been having a few days off from working on my memoir. Mainly because I had a mood crash. I'm trying to avoid talking too much about detail about my mental health on this blog, although I still have struggles, whether I say something, or not. My primary diagnoses are bipolar disorder (type 1) and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and I see them as medical conditions, not my entire identity. One of the reasons I moved away from my advocacy as Bipolar Courage, is that I wanted to focus more on my other passionate hobbies, especially to do with creative expression.
I want to say upfront that I believe in ethics with writing, which includes disguising people, so they aren't easily recognisable to the general public. The challenge I have with the memoir I am currently finalising, is that some might have a guess at who the characters are, as it involved social media. Hence, I have filtered certain stuff out, including obvious identifying features. This is so I can tell my story, while also respecting others privacy.
I usually only write about people, if they had an impact on me in some way. Either I really liked them or they were highly irritating (some people are in both categories).
I'm having a bit of time out from working on my memoir, as I'm burnt out out with it at the moment. The main reason my book projects take so long, is that I need lots of breaks after intense sessions of working on them.
In my last blog post, I wrote about brats. I had a therapy session with a clinicial psychologist today and I mentioned how I observed the brat to be a role played in a dynamic where one didn't get enough healthy attention as a child. It can be a situation where a sibling needed more attention. My psychologist said it can go two ways. The brat or the perfect child.
I was the perfect child. I see this as a role. I'll try explain a little more.
I tend to write a blog post when there's something I want to expand on a little but not include in my current book projects. But I may revisit the themes later. I can touch-type reasonably well, a skill I learnt as teenager. My hand writing is usually very messy and I tend to journal more in my own form of shorthand and loose mindmaps.
The topic for this blog post is bullies and brats. Just to get some ideas out that are going through my head, so that I can get back to focussing on my current book project. Linked to my memoir but this is not directly going into my memoir, as I want to focus on the storyline.
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.