Tag Archives: Mental Health

Review for The Day Of The Door by Laurel Hightower

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I have a few reviews incoming. I thought I’d posted them here, but it was only on my substack, which doesn’t get any traction. I’ll post them here. I’m sorry for flooding your inbox.

Before this review, I knew this book was about childhood trauma. I did not know the depths it would take me to. I continue to deal with childhood trauma from abuse, physical, mental, and other.

I feel a bit of a kinship with the MC, Nate Lasco. I dealt with abuse, not on the scale of his siblings and himself, but enough that I understood where he was coming from. The pain of dealing with childhood trauma is something I work through daily.

Laurel does such a fantastic job of writing trauma. It’s one of the reasons she’s one of my favorite writers. Writing trauma of any sort is challenging. It can come across in many ways, but Laurel does it and makes it feel real. You think about what Nate and his siblings went through. Having lost a brother, not to violence, but knowing I can’t talk to him when I’d like, something that Nate mentions in the text, is traumatic by itself.

Nate hasn’t spoken to his mother since a scene at the opening of the novel. Reading that opening will give you the reasons why, but I don’t want to spoil it for you.

He and his siblings went through something traumatic. Something that changed the paradigm of their family.

Having dealt with a parent who treated me the same way, I found myself loathing the meeting. It brought up a lot of thoughts, things I didn’t want to go through. This book helped me deal with a few things I didn’t want to.

Our lives after childhood are influenced by that childhood. How we deal with our adult lives is different. Nate and his siblings deal with this.

While reading this book, I thought of the Netflix show Haunting of Hill House. The trauma in that show and how the siblings deal with it is similar to how the Lascos deal with it. Also, my siblings and I have dealt with some of our issues.

This novel pushed me to some uncomfortable places. Laurel posted on TikTok about comments she’s received about the book. Dealing with trauma was something she brought up.

Trauma follows you into your adult lives, relationships, and careers. It’s how it works. How you deal with it matters.

The sequences of fear in this story, from the coming together of meeting their mother to the grief of their brother and the scenes in which the reality of the haunted aspects of their lives come together, struck a chord with me.

I loved this book and gave it five stars on Goodreads. It’s one of the best depictions of adults dealing with their childhood trauma. I suggest anyone who’s dealt with childhood trauma of any sort check the CW and TW for this book. I would suggest anyone who’s working through their childhood trauma to read this book.

Getting back to normal

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I found myself straying away from the point of this blog. It was meant to help me deal with the world around me. I know why it went sideways. I was chasing my writing. I should have let it develop on its own.

I used to talk about depression, dealing with it, and trying to escape it.

I have a book coming out in October. It was challenging to write. Here’s where I get a bit personal. With the healthcare system in the United States, I should have seen someone about a specific situation. I had a severe mental break ten years ago. During and after that break, I dealt with delusions. I would hear things, see things, and for most of those years, believe untrue things. I used what I dealt with to write the book coming out in October.

I didn’t seek professional help because I worried it would impact my wife’s and my health insurance. We had great health insurance in Las Vegas, but sadly, we’re using my wife’s now. It’s not as good as what he had in Las Vegas. But no health insurance is decent when it comes to mental health.

Gerald’s journey in ‘The End Is All I Can See’ is similar to mine. He has dealt with other issues, but writing the book was cathartic. I found myself diving into my head, seeing the world through those lenses. I haven’t been diagnosed with what Gerald deals with, but the signs point to it. My delusion was something like the Truman Show. I completely believed the delusion. It wasn’t until I said something to my wife that we sat down and discussed it. It continues to raise its head. It’s usually when I’m stressed or worried about how I’m perceived. This perception led me to believe in the delusion. There are times I’ve wished for it to be real. This plays into the delusion. With my writing, it’s an ever-present thought. If the delusion were absolute, someone would care about what I do. Someone would care about my writing. It’s all any of us want. For someone to care about us. This makes my depression worse. I constantly worry I’ll head down the road on this delusion and have a psychotic break. This is my greatest fear with the delusion.

I would like the delusion to stop. I have weeks where it’s not there. Then it pops up again.

I think it started a few weeks before my mental break. I’d taken a pill for something. A few hours later, I heard a woman screaming for help. I ran around our house and outside, looking for her. My wife was worried as hell. A woman, completely naked, her skin all bloody as if she were pulled from a Clive Barker story, stood outside our closet. I didn’t say anything to my wife about the woman. I knew how mad it sounded. I knew how absolutely ridiculous the idea of the woman being there was, but I saw her.

I haven’t seen her since, but it’s something that has stayed in my head.

I had to get that out. I hope you’ll read the book when it comes out.

Renewed focus

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I’m sitting in my favorite reading chair, staring at bits from Twitter, and waiting for my mind to adjust from the pills I can’t take anymore.

It’s not the writing. It’s the constant nightmares. Every night, more than a couple of times I’ll wake up breathless. I don’t remember them or I’d write them down. I only know I’m scared. I’m tired of being scared.

I pulled my collection from Amazon yesterday. I’m working on getting Disunion off of Ingramspark, and I’m reevaluating where to go from here.

Today, as I read, log into World of Warcraft, and figure out the next steps I’ll keep you updated here as well as on my Substack.

Know that I’ll continue to write though I may go absent for a while on social media but this is where you can find me.

Have a pleasant, whatever…B

Emotions, endings, and decisions.

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I haven’t written a word on here in a few weeks. Today felt like time to say something.

I’m dealing with some severe mental issues and its taken me out of my head. I write because its the only thing I truly enjoy anymore, but even that has been difficult.

I have a novel out with my editor, a novella out for consideration with a publisher, two other novellas sitting on my hard drive but after the last three months I’m not sure I want to do this anymore.

Once the novel is done with my editor I’ll go through it and submit it to agents. I don’t know what else to do with it. If that doesn’t pan out I’ll self publish it. The novella with publishers is one I hoped would do well, but after almost a year of it being out, my hope is dwindling.

I’m having all kinds of feels for my writing and while I’ve struggled with depression before, this time feels different. This time is more difficult to pull myself out of it. I’ve had so many bad thoughts over the last three months and I’m beginning to wonder if the lack of my writing going anywhere is a part of it. When you’ve written 12 1/2 novels, 4 novellas, and hundreds of short stories with nothing to show for it, life begins to look different.

Am I writing for the right reasons? Is my mental health worth this?

I’m beginning to wonder about those two questions more and more.

Why do I write? At first it was to prove to someone that I could do it. As I continue down this road of being an unpublished author, that’s no longer the reason. I like stories. I like to read them, to create them, and maybe I’ll continue to write in my free time but only for me. I’ve reached the point where I no longer feel a benefit to myself for my writing.

My mental health is the worst its ever been. I’ll be in California with my wife and kids celebrating my son’s high school graduation next week. The following week I’ll be looking for a therapist because I can’t do this by myself anymore.

If I decide to continue writing after those first few sessions of therapy I’ll figure it out, but I’m leaning towards stopping. It’s not enhancing my life anymore. It’s drudgery and it’s screwing with my head.

I will be spending tonight watching my son graduate from high school. I’ll be considering whether I continue writing over the next few weeks. I am leaning towards quitting.

Removing the Negatives

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I’ve had a rough time the last week or so. I don’t know why that is, but everything feels like it’s falling down around me and I’m the only one paying attention.

I know this is my depression issues setting in. Then there’s a bunch of family drama that I have zero time for. People that won’t get vaccinated, that kind of shit. My daughter can’t get vaccinated so I’m wary of anyone who refuses the vaccine. They’re also the ones who don’t wear masks.

But I digress.

My depression issues are something I’ve explored on here more times that I can count. With its reemergence comes the time to evaluate where I’m putting my energy.

I think about these people I care about too much sometimes. When they act a certain way, I try and discount it because I know they’re intelligent, but yeah, no time for that shit.

I’ve cut people out when they’ve shown who they are before, and I have no problem with cutting out others.

These are the negatives I’ve dealt with over the last week, as well as the fraud police showing up every time I open my laptop.

I finished a short story yesterday, and another last week, but they’ve been in my head constantly.

I have a novella that I need to finish editing this week and its been difficult to manage all of this.

There are times I’ve thought of quitting, considered stopping writing because I’d like to help out my wife and kids more money wise, and I’m really not enjoying bartending lately. No one is wearing a mask, no one appears to care about those of us on the front lines.

Hell, I bartended last summer during the darkest moments of the pandemic because I had to.

This mental health break I’m taking from events has been nice, but I’m so tired of worrying whether I’ll bring something home to my daughter. The stress of that will lower when she can get the vaccine next month, but damn I’m tired of people not caring.

I’ll be limiting the negatives for the foreseeable future. No bullshit texts, removing those I’m following who don’t offer me anything, something I should’ve done a while ago.

Removing the negatives starts with identifying where you’re stress lies. I know it’s from family bullshit, so I’ll be limiting that.

I know it’s from the fraud police, I don’t know how to fix that, other than to work on myself and my goals, so that’s what I’ll do.

Have a good week.