I know it’s been awhile since I posted last. Recovering from such an onslaught of personal attacks against me personally and the blog itself really took a lot out of me. I wondered for a time if I’d even return to it at all. And then I realized, this was my fucking house and I can pretty much say what goes and what doesn’t on it. Let’s start with the beginning shall we.
As with any mental illness I deal with a lot of anxiety. And the controversy stirred up by well meaning but ill advised friends generated more of it than I realized. It paralyzed me from returning to my beloved blog. In the process I have neglected it. And myself to some degree. Even with the great news and the good time coming up this weekend (I am sooo going to rock Fandom Fest/Fright Night) my anxiety had gone up to levels I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Anxiety at its worst has cost me jobs, because I simply could not function in regular work environment. My physical health deteriorated to such a degree I had to train myself to have enough endurance to conquer Fandom Fest. And I isolated myself in the house because I did not want to deal with any kind of crowd. They are projecting over 30K people at Fandom Fest/Fright Night. While that’s good for business it was starting to freak me out. Then Hydra is rearranging, so that means previous contracts are jettisoned because they can’t afford to put them out. Which is fine I had another home to take them to. Bounty Hunter, on the other hand, which hit #9 on the Amazon Bestsellers list this last week remains are part of their stable as do Gunpowder & Lead Book 1 and Set Fire to the Rain. Bounty Hunter is the book I adapted to screenplay format and is a finalist Fright Night.
So all of that is taken care of and my tally of 31 contracts remains intact. But my anxiety was robbing me of much needed sleep, and instead of happy Amy there more negative attributes of my bipolar disorder were heightened. Irritablity, anger, nastiness. Just crap people shouldn’t have to deal with. With Fandom Fest days away I went to the doctor and begged him for help.
He said the only thing he could do was place me on an anti-anxiety pill. Which, if you know me, and you don’t, I have resisted for quite some time. It seemed I was taking a lot meds as it was for the bipolar disorder and I didn’t want to have to take any more medicine. Now I know some eschew medication, claiming it’s harmful for you, and in a since it’s physically hard on your body. But I remembered what I was like when first diagnosed with bipolar disorder and lithium saved my life. Eventually the side effects were too harsh I was moved off of it to Depakote ER which saved my life a second time. In time the doctors found the right combination and I’ve been able to put my life back together.
As it was I was sleeping one hour, waking up and trying desperately to go back to sleep unsuccessfully all over again. Until finally, desperate at the anxiety I was feeling light of recent events I let the doctor give me the lowest dose of Adavan he could. The result has been miraculous. I sleep better, I’m more relaxed, and I’m writing again.
I know there’s this terrible mentality that some in Hollywood perpetuate psychiatry is the devil’s playground, and that all you need is love. And while love is part of the formula for sanity if I didn’t take the meds I would be a lost soul. I have been so depressed in my life at times I didn’t get out of bed. Or worse, wanted to die.
Abuse of any substance is bad for you. But I am closely monitored by my doctor. Where I once required weekly therapy and 4 week intervals with my doctor. I no longer need the weekly therapy and I now see the doctor every 12 weeks.
Fandom Fest and Fright Night are going to be huge and I have my doctor, my best friend Missy, and yes, watching Cowboys & Aliens and Casino Royale to thank for getting me through my latest crisis. Thank you and once again you are invited to GEMINI’S WAR release party. There will be a rock band, a costume contest, giveaways, and light refreshment in the Brown Room on the second floor of the Galt House in Louisville, KY. I know, I live in the real world. You don’t know me, and in reality you have no idea this blog exists. But a fellow artist, and yes, fan, can always hope, right?