I love this. It’s got me all excitable & fidgety & smiley!
My life has been pretty ‘normal’ or ‘non-descript’ until around 8 years ago & suddenly, with no warning, turned into something the size of a Hollywood script - so far-fetched that it probably wouldn’t actually get made into a movie because it’s too unbelievable!
I’ve been told time & time again to write about it all, however being a creative I can I think, but I’m an artist not a writer. My head goes to tangents that only I understand & I can’t tell where to stop or what to edit. And I would waste a lot of time and effort &, no doubt, talk myself out of publishing it because it wasn’t good enough. I kinda joke a lot too, taking the piss out of myself or my situation but I then run the risk of offending someone else who doesn’t get me or my humour & I would hate to do that. Or I wouldn’t get it finished because I’m too easily distracted – actually, the chaos hasn’t actually ended yet, so I couldn’t definitely say even if I’d survive the ending – haha.
See I’m off already.
Where, how & what do I do to find a writer who may want to take my story (so far) and do it justice. And NOT because I’m a wannabe, or I’m full of my own importance or need my 5 minutes of fame. Not at all, in fact, I toyed with anonymity because a lot touches on subjects that don’t make comfortable reading & could or would upset or offend. But it’s a ridiculous idea because as soon as it’s read by someone who ‘knows’ me, my cover would undoubtedly be blown.
The pros outweigh the cons though, and I want to make positives from the negatives & use it to help other people – even if it’s to just lift their day. For example, by reading & thinking, “Thank Christ I’m not her!” To others who need real – ‘I’ve-lived-through-this-subject,-not-the-same-way-but-I-can-maybe-help-you’ type of help instead of google or some psychiatric report on maybes or ifs or a ‘what you should do’ handy tips article by someone who’s never walked that road. (That really riles me)
I wrote stuff in my head down, and it didn’t hurt as much after a while. I broke my whole person & had to face fears I never even knew existed. I took pictures, I created art & read & read & read to understand – or try to – what the fuck had just happened, then snowballed into, not just bad luck or wee hiccups but, colossal shit that could warrant being a story on its own. And not just once. Over & over & not yet finished, as I said before.
Being able to read others survival stories similar or not gave me hope & inspiration & a way to see past my own nose. I needed to be afforded the ability to cope with other people’s opinions, actions or beliefs so I could move forward. And if I can, I would dedicate the rest of my life helping others to do too. Because if you are unfortunate enough to hit rock bottom – aye, right down in hell – with no safety net underneath or rope ladder above, the realisation that real friends are very few & far between, it’s shit. In fact it’s super bad stinking shit. Some you’d think would help, actually see your weakness as their chance to kick you while you’re down, others just revel in the ‘fame’ & gossip & like you are an unmissable live TV show & the rest don’t want to be involved & prefer turning their backs, therefore what they don’t know can’t wrestle with their conscience! I’m gonna stop there. Phew.
And now my finger is tingling with repetitive strain looming, I realise I’m proving my point about waffling on with my complete irrelevance!………
In fact, can I even ask on here? :/