The “cool” bit I’ll leave to Mr. Eastwood and his poncho.
The “crazy” I’ll handle myself.
Despite all my best intentions of putting some hot flesh to Book Two’s bones this weekend, I’ve done little more than work myself up into a right tizzy about the whole thing.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I can handle a tizzy, been handling the suckers all my life. However, most tizzies of the literary ilk have some basis in fact, i.e. character rebellion, storyline stump or, my least favorite, author ineptitude (when said-author has lost the ability to string two sentences together, aka writer’s block *shivers*).
What is plaguing me this weekend, though, is just plain screwed up brain chemistry.
I’ve got an appointment with a new doctor on Wednesday and while I view this as a HUGE step forward in battling the lingering panic embedded so deep (so stupidly) in my life, certain rebel parts of my brain (OCD!… OCD!… OCD!…) disagree on this strategy and have set up camp in my brainstem.
These little OCD buggers are driving me and my logic / rationality / sanity to absolute distraction. I’m not so much as worrying about the appointment as I’m thinking CONSTANTLY about it.
Like every second.
And the occasional half-second.
I can’t concentrate on a darn thing and it is so beyond aggravating that there simply aren’t words for it.
And since there aren’t any words for it, I’ll just say:
Acclaimed author of 17 novels (my dogs and mother adore me), World traveler (I’ve felt the Sahara Desert between my toes… still gobsmacked over the stars in the Sahara) And survivor (of three dirty-fighting gremlins named Anxiety, Panic and OCD)… My name is Chloe Stowe. Hello. If you’ve found your way here, you’ve most likely arrived on the coattails of my blog, The Words and Madness of Chloe Stowe. Started in 2012, my daily rantings now number in the thousands. Ranging from humorous to moody, poignant to absurd, these tiny tidbits of thought began as a way to get my name “out there.” It has long since morphed into an effort just to “be there” for anybody out there struggling with words or madness, like me. Quick biographical sketch of me? Nerd turned nut at nineteen. In my sophomore year at Auburn University, I was taken out at the knees by severe panic attacks. Chronic anxiety soon joined the dogpile, followed shortly by OCD tendencies. Oh, it was ugly. I eventually had to quit school and soon quit life, as well. I spent a good chunk of my 20’s not able to leave my room. Twenty years later, it’s still can get ugly in my head. Thanks to meds and doctors, however, I am able to lead a better life, now. I still can’t work outside the house, but I can live and smile and write. So, here I am. Broken, but stubbornly present. I hope my voice proves company to someone lonely out there. Thanks for reading! Chloe Stowe