I’ve been trying to write on the beginning of my book about Fibromyalgia and as usual, I get stuck on editing and re-editing details concerning my marriage. It’s like I get so lost in the details, I never get around to telling the story. I constantly overthink what I should and shouldn’t say about the causes of the disease and my beliefs concerning my particular case. I believe that, like a lot of diseases, this disease is somewhat genetic, can lay dormant, and can be triggered by stress, tragedy or depression. Knowing this, what was the ultimate cause in my case. Was it the difficulty of my childhood? But it lay dormant. Was it the stress of my marriage that caused this disease to come and ultimately destroy my life? Was it purely genetic? Does how I became one of its victims really matter? Well, in the huge scheme of things, no it doesn’t matter, but it would be very nice to know. I want to know because it’s like finding out who committed a crime against you even though you know they won’t be prosecuted. It’s a need that won’t change anything except how you feel on the inside. The type of life-altering event that will let you know that you are not the crazy one!
Nothing is as great a detour to creative thinking as a past that you would be better off not thinking about, or better yet writing about! I want to be as honest and candid as I can possibly be. I’m not the type of a writer that’s organized with my thoughts or writing. I don’t even do outlines. I tried that once and as far as I got was my outline. So I won’t put myself through that again. I do know writing about my marriage exhausts me and causes me a few hours of being in my feelings. So I need to find the quickest way possible to get through this part of my book.