Obsession vs. Addiction

Obsession vs. Addiction

Am I an obsessed writer or am I addicted to writing? I had to do some research on this one. Let’s see what I discovered.

Obsession – the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc. – Yes, I’m an obsessed writer.

Addiction - the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, *as writing, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.  YES, I’m addicted to writing!

* I took out, as narcotics, and replaced it with as writing.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder – A disorder characterized by repetitively repeating actions over and over, compulsively.  Meh!

The phrase obsessive–compulsive has become part of the English lexicon, and is often used in an informal or caricatured manner to describe someone who is excessively meticulous, perfectionistic, absorbed, or otherwise fixated. Although these signs are present in OCD, a person who exhibits them does not necessarily have OCD, but may instead have obsessive compulsive personality disorder.

Aha! My discovery led me to believe I am OCPD! OCPD is a chronic non-adaptive pattern of extreme perfectionism, preoccupation with neatness and detail. And I’m addicted to writing, seeing that when I’m not writing, it seems to cause me severe mental trauma. Each day I wake, I go to my computer, not to surf through the web, not to play facebook games, it’s to WRITE.

It has been in my blood since a young age. I began with pen and paper, journals and notebooks and yes, I have many saved notebooks cluttering my basement storage bins. It’s funny, I went through my bins a couple of weeks ago, to see what I managed to bring with me when I left home ten years ago. Lo and behold, I left with not much more than the clothes on my back, a few cherished nic-nacs, and loads of books and writings!

Being the sentimental fool that I am, I cried over the things I didn’t manage to bring with me, but I also cried over the things I DID manage to bring. I think I’ve told you of the time I left home, my son and I, for a safer haven away from a mentally abusive relationship. I left all my once cherished material possessions behind, and moved forward in life, whatever that entailed.

My writing is the only thing, locked up safely in my heart and soul that no one could ever get me to leave behind. Instead I dove in and never looked back. While I have family back home, they all but left me out here to fend for myself, and I’m okay with that, I had to grow up some time.

Now what I do with my time and my life is write. That is the only piece I obsessively control and will never let go of. While material possessions can always be replaced, what you have inside you can never be replaced, only crafted and finely tuned.

So to you my fellow writer’s who can casually use writing as a hobby, my hats off to you. But to you who are addicted to writing; waking, living and breathing the written word, then you know what I mean when I say I’m addicted to writing! As to my OCPD, I love being meticulous and a perfectionist in my writing, so all is well in the written world of words for me.

Computer Woes

Even if happiness forgets you a little bit, never completely forget about it. ~Jacques Prévert
***

As one blessing comes in, one must go. It seems the computer is doing it’s crazy little game playing that I’ve come to expect upon start up every morning. I wake at 5:30 in the quiet peaceful stillness of the morning, the ultimate time to get some writing done, but by 7 a.m. I am still sitting here trying to get this thing to work.

After it finally decides, “I’m warmed up”, it works for everyone else and the muse has slid into the back of my mind, I’ve forgotten what I wanted to write, and so yet another wasted morning of writing has slipped through my fingers.

I remember about nine years ago, when the computer first came into my life. I hadn’t owned one or ever dreamed of having one. I had never used a microwave, my clothes were hung on a clothesline and life was simplified, and I never sought out more. The writing I did was with a pen and paper, and the only markets I sought were poetry contests in the local paper.

At that time, I had not seen the inside of a library for decades, my son was the center of my world and life went on. Although I craved for more, I had no idea that there was a world out here wanting me to embrace the colors and all the beauty. I assumed life was what you make it, and my life was made to be a domestic goddess, a household engineer if you will, or simplified, a housewife.

My husband at the time didn’t ‘let’ me work outside the home and with every job I did obtain (working for family who had business’) my husband became more and more paranoid, untrusting, and downright obsessive. I wanted to run to the hills but I had no license to drive, so where were my two feet going to take me? Not far I can tell you that.

To make a long story short (yes, I’m writing my memoirs) my life changed the day my brother-in-law gave me a computer, FREE! It was then that my writing took off. I searched google like it was an infinite library of sources, I wrote and wrote and spent way too many hours on this thing! So much so, the obsessive hubby tossed me and my son out!

I didn’t turn to my controlling family, I turned AWAY from Baltimore and headed to Texas! Guess what, there was a world out here waiting for me to embrace the beauty and all the magnificent colors of God’s palette. And embrace and move on I did.

Eight years later I sit enthralled in the writing world. I’m allowed to do my work, write, and no one is obsessive about my use of the computer. The ex has not seen his son for eight years, nor paid one red cent child support, which goes to show, I did the right thing in getting out and saving my son. But God also showed me, I was saving my soul.

Now if only I could get this thing to work! *BANG* *knock* *KICK* *pull* *TUG*
Just trying to ‘reboot’!

***

Freedom has its life in the hearts, the actions, the spirit of men and so it must be daily earned and refreshed - else like a flower cut from its life-giving roots, it will wither and die. 

~Dwight D. Eisenhower

Changes II

Job 17:12 They change the night into day: the light is short because of darkness.
***

There are times in life, where life changes, the story changes, things happen and the conflict in your story arises. I remember the saying, “Life is stranger than fiction.” And now as I come to this leg in my journey I believe it.

I remember being a very hidden and isolated person about 8 years ago and for 20 years before that. My life consisted of waking, eating, sleeping and moving along while writing with a pen in my hand and a well worn out notebook on my lap. My how times have changed.

Some people don’t like change and some people embrace change. The new me has accepted the fact that without embracing change we leave ourselves vulnerable to all sorts of insecurities. We become introverted not allowing the extrovert release.

Is it in you or your character to be molded by change? Had I not accepted change so readily, I would be back in Baltimore doing for others, waiting for a new day, never being allowed the freedom of thinking on my own. I like thinking on my own. My freedom has allowed me that.

But with this freedom comes downfalls. I have to be open to the realization that downfalls are all a part of the story. How can we ever expect to have a happy ending if we don’t allow our characters the chance to grow through change and conflict. My life has been a whirlwind of change and conflict. Sure I was getting stagnate back home and I had a God slap moment where He woke me up and said, “Is this what I created you for?”

I have to be willing to listen to that little voice of God inside my head, whether it is a story’s direction, my life’s path, or knowledge of what and where things are supposed to be placed.

F2k has changed. I like the change and embrace the change, but it is outside the realm of the inner compulsion to leave everything right where it is, don’t move, kind of instinct. My story has changed, life is changing and as Summer swells, the world is moving fast and I need to hold on to something or someone.

Beau’s mom has bought a house. She’s moving in a couple of weeks and even at her age, she needs to embrace change and all that entails. He couldn’t see the house, but we went over to look at it anyway. He felt his way around and I could feel his heart skipping beats with each new thing he couldn’t see but wishes he could. He’s excited for her, don’t get me wrong, but he also aches knowing that this is not in his routine of the way things are, and were always supposed to be.

I’m sorry honey, but life is an ever changing ball of wax. Sometimes it melts away, sometimes it molds itself into solid lucidity, and sometimes you may even touch the fine fabric and appreciate all the changes the wax went through to get to this very moldable point in its existence.