It's a good day to be me

So, I have a new diagnosis, and one that isn’t entirely surprising to me.

No, we won’t start there.

Fuck this.

Today, I have had my first really real good day in weeks. But, like all days, it’s had its bleak moments. There’s never a day without some shade. But shade isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It just means the light is shining from a different angle. I just need to reframe how I’m looking at things, try a different angle.

I started a new medication last night. I didn’t expect anything; meds take time to take effect, after all. It put me to sleep within 45 minutes of taking it, and I woke up feeling refreshed and awake and not groggy and hung over. I slept 7.5 hours, only waking once, and while I know I had dreams, I don’t remember them, but I seem to feel like they were pleasant.

Tonight, I’m still good, but the length of the day is wearing on me. I have hope, though, that tomorrow will be just as good.

I’m keeping track of where I’m at with meds, increases, decreases, new meds, discontinuations… I know my doctor has it all in his computer, but the hard data doesn’t include the feelings behind the reasons for the changes. So, I keep my own record.

I’m taking a break from my NaNoWriMo project. It was causing me far too much emotional distress to continue with it right now. I’ll either write blog posts or start on something fictional to finish out the last half of the month. I’m behind by a few days at this point; I’ve never been this far behind before in all the years I’ve been participating. I guess there’s a first time for everything. It’s kind of amazing how just putting words to paper can afflict our minds in the most devastating manner. I want to finish this project, more than anything, but my mental health is priority number one. I can’t let it drag me down as far as it had, so I either need to approach it very carefully, which is difficult at best, or just set it aside until I can actually maneuver through it safely without setting off any mental landmines.

I do not know if either will ever actually happen.

I am actually a rational adult

For those of you who have read my blog in the past few months, you might remember The Notebook Theory. My notebooks of late have been of less than good quality, but every day, I pick up whatever pages I can, I stuff them in the covers of that notebook, and I trudge through until the next day.

Every day, I wake up with a glimmer of hope that today, I will find a beautiful notebook beside me to work with. And every day, I’m disappointed. I have had one decent one and two or three okay ones in the last 2-3 weeks, and I’m not sure what I was classify today’s as. It’s got some loose pages, but they’re not quite falling out yet. The cover is kinda flimsy and feels like it my come off soon, but the paper is smooth enough that I don’t mind writing on it.

I guess you could say it’s a well-loved notebook.



NaNoWriMo started 10 days ago. As usual, I am participating, but I’m doing so quietly this year. I’m writing a story I’ve been trying to write for years, but never could. It’s deeply personal, it’s my first real attempt at non-fiction, and it’s tearing me apart… I thought I would feel guilt writing this. But I don’t. I just feel an overwhelming sadness and grief for things I thought I had mourned years ago, and for things I didn’t know I was or would be mourning in the first place.

The thing about non-fiction – for me – is that I have to pull from memory. My memory is sketchy at best, and I don’t like to rely on it for accurate information. With fiction, I can refer back to previous chapters – was this character a blonde? Were her eyes green or brown? What was the name of that town again? All of the information is readily available in black and white on the computer. With non-fiction, and in particular one based on memories, there is a lot more room for inaccuracies and missed details. Important details.

I HATE feeling like I’m telling a lie. If I am not confident in an answer, nine times out of ten I will let someone else respond first, or I will say something like, “I’m not sure, but I think…”
And when I get it wrong… I feel like shit. I feel like I’ve lied and disappointed the other person greatly. Especially when they come back to let me know I was wrong.


I swear I am actually a rational adult.

I just have some… quirks.

That’s the polite way to say it, right?


You may or may not have noticed, but I now have SIGNED PAPERBACK COPIES of my books available for sale on my website! Check them out under the books button at alisoninsco.ca!
In the next week, I am going to have some bath products up for sale, too – bath bombs and shower steamers for sure, at least. That is the plan, anyway. Keep your eyes peeled!



Back to NaNoWriMo… 2018 is my 8th year participating. I won’t let it be my first year losing. I’ve switched gears once in the story already, and have taken breaks from writing  more than a couple hundred words the last few days, but I’m not really behind yet. I’ve got less than 900 words to write in 3.5 hours. I can do that in half an hour if I put my mind to it.

Writing is a release for me. I’ve been writing since I was in the sixth grade and was barely 12 years old. I have my first story in its original handwritten format, and I transcribed it onto the computer a few years ago. It’s pretty terrible in its current iteration, but 12-year-old me wrote a 13,181 word novella. One day, I will polish it up like the hidden gem I think it could be.
So having said all that, having this story take everything out of me has been unusual and actually a little bit scary.



And now I’m blathering. I’ll back to wordvomiting my non-fiction for a while. Thanks for reading me, folks. I appreciate each and every one of you more than you know.