Chronic Rants

I was recently diagnosed with CPTSD, and while it’s not a surprise, I’m still adjusting to this new way of thinking about my mental and physical health. At the same time, I have been writing a book, and it touches on many (all?) of the experiences that led to my CPTSD.

This is my fourth book. The first got as far as a finished first draft, but never published. The second was published. The third was scrapped after about 12,000 words. And this current one, well, I’m not sure if I should continue it. I’m writing about the rotten things people have said and/or done to me related to my chronic illnesses. I’m using it as an opportunity to call out the bad behavior, offer examples of what to do better, and offer reassurance to folks with chronic illness that they’re aren’t alone in dealing with this crap. It’s a decent book so far, though I have a long way to go (it’s only 13k words so far) and the first draft is very rough.

Writing about these incidents has been eye-opening. Suddenly I am remembering both long-buried details and entire experiences. Seeing everything in one place is making me realize just how bad my past experiences have been. Sure, I knew that a few of them were particularly horrible, but seeing them all on the page, it’s impossible to ignore that the “death by a thousand cuts” that led to my CPTSD was building up for ages.

In many ways, writing this book is healing. I’m getting to explore my past, and talk about how I would rewrite it if i could. But it’s also difficult, painful, and at times triggering. I’m being careful not to write about the more difficult parts on my worse days, but it’s still tough.

Beyond that, I realize that if I publish this book, I will need to read these stories countless times. I will need to reread the book throughout the various stages of editing. Once it’s published, I will need to read sections out loud at events, though at least I can choose which of those to read. When people ask questions, I will need to reread parts to remind myself of what I wrote. This rereading will probably be useful in distancing myself from the events, but it could also be painful.

I continue to waver. Some days I feel like it would be healthy to finish this book, whether I ever publish it or not. Other days, I want to hide away from it all. I’m sure that I will be having many conversations with my therapist about this. In the meantime, it’s on my mind and in my heart.