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eorzean-capitalist · 5 months

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Hypergraphia.

I've been on a journey since Nov. 1st. A wild one.

I decided this year to do NaNoWriMo again. I've completed it two other times, albeit a very long time ago. 2001 and 2003. I've tried a few other times, but never successfully and it's been a very long time since I've thought about trying again.

But hey, I've been off antipsychotics for 6 months now. I figure I can write again. Maybe sustain enough of a momentum to cross the finish line again.

If I knew then what I know now, I may have decided not to. Maybe I would have anyway. Hard to say.

I did some prepwork. Decided I wanted to write a ghost story about a house haunted by the ghost of a disabled girl, killed by her father in the 1940s. I was calling it Astrid's Attic. Made a basic outline. Created and fleshed out some characters.

But then Nov 1st rolled around and I found myself staring at a blank google doc with no idea how to kick it off.

I had music on. A Skid Row song I used to like back in the early 90s was the next track. And I dunno. It was like lightning struck. A memory from my childhood roared back to life and the words jumped onto the page.

Only it wasn't Astrid's Attic. All that prep work, the outline, the idea of it, just vanished as I drew from ancient memories of a 14 year old in the early throes of mental illness and the storm of adolescence.

I'd started this strange world of psychics and secret societies. And a fake rock band was my vehicle at the time to tell the tale. The characters were an amalgamation of the bands I listened to at the time. Rock and metal from the 1989-1991 era.

But this time, I wasn't 14 and struggling to find the right words to convey the thoughts in my brain. I wasn't writing with pen and paper, filling notebook after notebook with whatever my brain was vomiting up with the limited vocabulary and writing skills I had at the time.

Now I'm several decades older, I type something ridiculous like 160 words a minute, and I know how to craft a narrative.

So 12 days later.... I'm over the finish line and my brain is not done. Oh no. By the end of November, I dropped everything into a word calculator. Over 200k words. The main story doc itself, and miles of notes and brainstorming I did over the month as I worked out the details.

Hypergraphia is a weird thing. A blessing and a curse. Because since embarking on this journey, I can't do anything else. I can't think of anything else. My days are either spent writing, or thinking about writing.

I could put a stop to this. I've already told my therapist what's going on and we're trying to figure out how to contain it. Direct it. But it's really gd hard. I could go back on a low dose of antipsychotic.

But I don't really want to. At least, not till the boys' story is finally told. The demon sleeping in my memory since 14 finally exorcised.

I think I owe younger me that much, at least.

#writing #hypergraphia #schizophrenia

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ramblngz-of-a-lunatic · 1 month

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What started off as planning a hair dye idea turned into filling a page with lil doodles

✨ Pastel goth hypergraphia ✨

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marcogiovenale · 26 days

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hypergraphia / miekal and. 2024

Hypergraphia is a behavioral condition characterized by the intense desire to write or draw. Forms of hypergraphia can vary in writing style and content. It is a symptom associated with temporal lobe changes in epilepsy and in Geschwind syndrome. Structures that may have an effect on hypergraphia when damaged due to temporal lobe epilepsy are the hippocampus and Wernicke’s area. Aside from…

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#art #arte #asemia #asemic writing #asemics #écriture #hypergraphia #ipergrafia #Miekal And #scrittura #scrittura asemica

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craycraybluejay · 8 months

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i LOVE how you write, it makes my heart feel like it’s about to jump out of my chest and run for the hills.

I'm actually trying to post today's dream diary entry right now. I don't share most of them as I have hundreds, and many are far too personal or difficult to share, but I consider them some of the best and most genuine of my writing.

Thank you, I really appreciate your enthusiasm for my writing <3. Do you want to know a secret? I have a much easier and more pleasant time writing to speak than speaking aloud. I'm not bad at it necessarily, but it makes me a little uncomfortable, and I tend to stutter, swap parts of words, and otherwise mess up. My hands keep up with my mind a lot better than my mouth. So, when I write, you are getting the most real possible part of me, if a "real me" exists, of which philosophically speaking I am a little doubtful.

Do with that what you will, lol

#anon response #fan mail #writerblr #writers on tumblr #thank you anon #<3 #i come out of the shadows covered in blood- don't say a word to anyone- and find the nearest thing to write on #that is who i am #hypergraphia #words words words #if i experience any romantic love at all it is and will be for the intricasies of written word #you may think you are looking at a text but in fact it is looking at you

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antonballdeluxe · 2 years

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poetry i wrote while unstable

i get hypergraphia sometimes. here is the result of it.

my face and my brain

is a one-way glass only

i can't see through glass

live through it live for you

strings on my arms like violin you play

my vitals and head stable

hold onto my wrist and wipe away the blood and tears

and vomit because oh boy

is there a lot

every day my head is flooded

it takes the thoughts in my hands

washes them away

sometimes i miss those thoughts

sometimes they are just soggy junk though

but everything is precious and made to be lost through great floods

rush through the head, two-toned knife drug

the great focus the gruesome flood

i shall sweep with knowledge and become the dust

that anxiety and dread turns into tornado

mirrors act a few bits after we do

does your mirror scream at you, too?

when i smile it makes a scrunch isntead

something isn't right on the other side

or maybe mine

i don't know

but it has a message for me

just can't speak it through glass walls

or maybe i'm the mirror

is that why others look at me with

the same frown? the same

ignorance and silence

the mirror gives

i am behind the glass wall after all

seperated, elaborated, my heart

stammers made of reflective

breaks and i am

a ghost in the mirror anyways?

one day we'll all be ok

dancing through forests with our frowns going away

butterflies speak and birds will tweet

but until we reach the merry ending play

i think it's ok

to not be ok

#poetry #hypergraphia #schizotypal #stpd #schizotypal personality disorder #nephro.pdf #nephro.txt

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a-cypress-tree-draws · 2 years

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Day 20 - Hypergraphia

For those unaware, hypergraphia is a compulsive disorder that involves obsessive writing. The lines on her are all quotes taken from famous books. It was kinda fun to play around with different fonts and writing styles.

#digital drawing #digital art #inktober #drawtober #character drawing #Day 20 #hypergraphia #tw hypergraphia #tw ocd

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litmichs-blog · 4 months

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Van Gogh's Health: What Was Going On?

Interesting findings about famous artist Vincent Van Gogh

Van Gogh’s Mental and Physical Health Van Gogh, the famous artist, had some medical conditions that doctors have been trying to understand for a long time. Let’s take a look at some of the possible reasons for his mental and physical health issues. Temporal Lobe Epilepsy One possible condition Van Gogh had was temporal lobe epilepsy. This caused him to have seizures. Some doctors believed that…

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#and depression #anxiety #attacks #Bipolar Disorder #depression #Hypergraphia #Lead Poisoning #medical conditions #seeing light in circles #sick #Sunstroke #Temporal Lobe Epilepsy #the famous artist #Thujone Poisoning #To help with his epilepsy #Vincent Van Gogh

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russellmoreton · 6 months

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Camera Obscura : Reflections and the dark room. by Russell Moreton Via Flickr: pictify.com/user/russellmoreton

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hypergraphistwriter · 4 months

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#hypergraphia #journal writing #writing #writer #asemic writing #art #asemicart #fountain pen ink #creative #asemic art #micro writing #micro

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inlovewithaspiderguy · 7 days

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L&O svu 10x12 was unexpectedly terrifying to me like I’ve watched a season and a half and this is the one that scared me the most of them all

#law and order svu #10x12 #the hypergraphia was like the most scary part #i don’t know

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eorzean-capitalist · 3 months

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Brain demons: Hey when you finish this, wanna make it a TV script for funsies? Me: Please let me go back to other things. Brain demons: You're so cute. But seriously, start looking up how to do TV scripts.

#writing #hypergraphia

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xenole · 8 months

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#I've been hit with a sudden bout of hypergraphia #my boss sticks up all my post its #i think its funny

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woonietune · 1 year

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Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated, for I was only wiping countertops with my left hand and weeping into my collagen supplements, not being dissected by first-years at the medical school

Lots of catching up to do. I haven’t posted in a while. I got sick. I mean, I know I’m always getting sick, but this time I got so sick that I lost a lot of the use of my right hand. I couldn’t pick up one of my fluffy chickens without the owies--and I have a high pain threshold. I thought maybe I was having a stroke--or a bad case of hypochodria but once those things were ruled out, no one knew what it was. It wasn’t Covid. It wasn’t some weird autoimmune thingie (as of yet--I suspected that--but it wouldn’t be that). Maybe my allergies had evolved into some Godzilla version? I couldn’t sweep a broom across the porch. The inflammation was so bad I couldn’t wear my rings, and worst of all, I couldn’t type.

I couldn’t get an appt with my PCP for three months (because this is the way things are in the USA in a state where Bobby Fuck U Jindal let five private insurers compete for Medicaid clients and basically set into motion the now standard Republican model of Let Disabled People Die Who Needs Them). Anyway, I did see a nurse practitioner who sent me to get x-rays in one hospital and to get bloodwork in another--and the results came back that there was nothing wrong with me. I was reporting pain 8/10 but was told to take Tylenol and that the doctor would see me in three months.

That was back in December? I don’t think I’ve gone ever without writing for 3 months. I paid out of pocket for some acupuncture (never had it before--it was cool beans) and got some relief; I adjusted my diet, already vegetarian to as sanctimonious a vegan, anti-inflammatory diet as I could manage, and I felt a little better. I used Google Voice to chat with fandom friends. Google Voice told of the adventures of Dog Food, the great warrior, and Wound, the former assassin of Cooks Up a Wrong, and I was miserable. I wanted to write. Writing was my only real down time. Without it, my brain was in the wilderness.

During my no-writing period, I had two ear infections, my therapist gave leave, the family got mild Covid infections (during which time my arm felt oddly better), and I knew instinctively I had to rest. I picked up a heavy detergent bottle and got the owies bad the next day, so I let the house go to hell. I spent a lot of time lying in a dusty room I couldn’t clean (this was before the maid from Hell--I’d never hired a maid before in my life, but when I did, whoever hexed me made it so I got one that made already made beds and put the flat sheets under the fitted sheets, didn’t wash the cleaning foam out of the bath-tub, left large swaths of rug unvacuumed, broke several little minatures--I superglued them back but STILL--and left the kitchen floors grimy and put an envelope marked IMPORTANT on the kitchen in a super secret place among a bunch of bookshelves), and I let my mind wander the way it had when I was twelve or so....

Why am I trapped in this consciousness? Why can’t I be in the mind of that person or that other person? Or why can’t assume the presence of a tree or a cloud? Why am I me? And did I choose to be me? And where am I going?

Agnosticism on any issue was the default, and if I wasn’t writing, it wasn’t only my right hand that was hurting, it was my brain. It hurt from awareness.

The maid from Hell cleared away some of the dust in the house (not much), but mostly she kicked my head out of its dusty sophomoric philosophizing. I was so mad over her bad house-keeping that I got up and started to clean my own house with one hand. I didn’t do a bad job, and my disabled family helped, even if they did turn some white clothes pink in the wash. Nobody died. The house never had a chance to grow black mold.

When the PCP appt finally rolled around, the doctor examined my arm this way and that and guess what? I had a torn bicep! She recommended physical therapy but there was a waiting list (of course). I went on YouTube to get some practice videos, and there were all these muscle guys who lifted weights there who’d torn their biceps. I don’t know how I’d injured myself, but I’m always doing things I’m not supposed to. I mean, besides picking up 40 lbs dogs. I overestimate my strength and think I’m stretchier and younger than I am. I haven’t done yoga since before the Pandemic, so I must’ve just thought my arm was a squeegee pole or something and strained to clean a cobweb in ceiling corner, who knows.

I was prescribed super antihistamines for my allergies, given meloxicam for pain (lol), and told to rest (lol lol lol). Eventually I could type a little; then I could type a little more; before I knew it I had written more than 100K words in less than a month in a little fandom mini-arc, and my fandom wife was busy whipping my crazy manuscripts into shape because my writing was as out of shape as I was. I’d lost 10 lbs when I’d caught that nasty stomach flu everyone was getting (and I mask and take hazmat-like protocols nearly everywhere because my greatest fear is infecting someone high risk--I’m only moderate-high--and killing that person--I know all kinds of very sick people). My wife was sick too, and I don’t know how she does it, but apparently she can find a backwards quotation mark with a fever 101 and point out a paragraph that needs “more” even if she’s been puking for days and can’t stand up in the shower.

Fandom people are crazy. But we love what we love.

And we love writing for our historically inaccurate historical dramas.

I’ve actually been typing too long already.

This was supposed to be a master post of fics I haven’t uploaded in the past few months.

I’m back in bed, not sick so much this time as overwhelmed by all things overwhelming, and I want to write, but at the same time I want to just lie here and cry.

This world is a terrible place. It’s been blasted with meteors and nuked several times over, and the blood of a million wars have seeped into it, and the Ice Age has come and gone, and here I am, wondering if I’ll get a chance to swim in the ocean again before I die or maybe catch a coffee with a friend or see my dad who can’t fly here because of his bad lungs. Does it matter if I have words? Or are words the greatest illusion of meaningfulness--they’re just blabbity, and they disintegrate into cyberspace just like that stuff--remember paper?--paper used to fall apart when we picked up hundred-year-old books that had gone untouched.

Actions matter. What we model for our children matters. Decency and kindness, compassion and persistence. Charity and hope, all those things that sound like dull bells until they are live faces with stories in front on your own.

But I don’t get out much anymore. I’m scared of the outside. I don’t march anymore, and my family needs me at home. The animals need me to refresh their water, and the old cat needs me to cut his pills twice a day, and oh, some people need to get over this “don’t enable disabled people.” It’s not enabling a disabled person who has broken legs if you hold his crutches while he sits in a car to go to a doctor’s appointment. You don’t know all the circumstances. Parents of disabled children--well, many of them, research hard and try many things, advocate hard, make phonecalls every day and we thank you for your judgement very much. We live in fear every day that our children will die in the system when we’re gone.

Some days I feel all I have are my words. These words that are nothing. These words that are my playing around. I was diagnosed with cataracts not long ago. I am afraid of going blind now. But some surgery in a few years, they say--I’ll be fine. I hope so. I may not be fine in other ways. I knew there was something wrong with my eyes. I have optical migraines. My fingers don’t move they way they used to. My brain feels young--younger than ever, maybe twelve, the age I was wondering why I couldn’t share consciousness with a fish in a pond. Later, maybe when the bipolar was kicking in, I felt that I did share consciousness with it. And who will tell me I am wrong? The world’s great religions--not just my own with it’s Sh’ma Yisrael, the World is One, but so many others, speak of the great inter-connectedness of things.

Are the words in the way, or are they little stepping stones? Or are they both?

I don’t like to touch or hug people very much because of childhood traumas. I save my hugs for my dearest ones and my animal companions, but I throw words around freely, like chicken feed. C’mon and get it... or let it settle and rot in the earth, along with the blood and paper and other forgotten things.

My time isn’t over. This blog will last until... there are new technologies. I thought Tik Tokers would be the new talkers, but it doesn’t seem to be the place. Novelists haven’t disappeared; neither have poets. And despite Elon, Disabled Twitter is still going strong. There’s no telling.

So I’ll keep telling. I still have secrets and untold things. And many pockets full of untold stories. More later. The little fictions (oh this last one is 12k... sorry. Whoever reads it gets a cookie. A pretty Korean one from the palace).

#I was sick #what do words matter #maid from hell #sophomoric philosophy #at the current time I have no therapist uh oh #that's fine I have a support system and a medicating dr #master post of stories coming soon #Cooks Up a Wrong is Heuksa Chorong thank you Google Voice #My fandom wife is really wonderful #I'm not dead but dying #we all are ok?#I have hypergraphia look at my puffy fingers go

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obstinatecondolement · 1 year

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CW: lots of mental illness stuff below (I'm okay, my brain is just very fast and full of bees)

It's funny how I went from, "Yeah, obviously 🙄" (expressed more politely) when someone very kindly suggested that I might be bipolar to, "... oh my God."

Like, specifically this is about the hypergraphia. I have been writing and re-writing thousands upon thousands of words a day for close to a week.

It doesn't seem like, clinically speaking, a huge amount from my completed word counts that I've been recording, but I cannot stress enough how long I have been spending editing and re-wording the things I am "working" on. It feels so important and I can't make myself stop editing and re-editing the same 300-400 words for five hour stretches minimum. It's kind of a problem!

I think it was the fact that this person made the parallel between how I'd been Posting™ a lot more often on Dreamwidth*, and the way I was expressing myself, and pressured speech, because like... I do that too, but I write a lot more than I talk out loud even at the best of times and it never really occurred to me that various symptoms that are typically expressed through speech might have analogous writing related symptoms. I mean! To be clear, I didn't think it was Fine Actually that I was so laser focused to the point of letting myself be in pain from needing to eat and go to the bathroom for hours because I couldn't tear myself away from the thing I was writing, but I thought of it as being more an "inappropriately fixated on a task" thing rather than as something related to speech or communciation. My knowledge of psychological and psychiatric terminology is deep rather than broad and I don't want to confidently state that I'm experiencing a particular symptom that I haven't fully understood the definition of, but like... yeah.

I'm also getting really caught up on expressing what I'm trying to say in a way that can't be twisted by bad actors (who are apparently all fucking djinn or something, because instead of just treating me badly they ironically do exactly what I've said they can do) or misunderstood. This is not a new problem either. Relatively recently I got caught in a loop of trying to explain what I meant by something to my sister and she said, "You know I'm not actually trying my best to cancel you?" And that's the thing! I keep acting like everyone I talk to is waiting to jump on the slightest ambiguous or poorly considered wording that could be interpreted as me saying something different to what I am trying to convey. And they categorically are not! I'm not a big enough deal on the internet to have people plotting my downfall!

But anyway. Apparently hypomania typically only lasts about a week for most people and it's been at least five days now. So like 🤞😬🤞

*Part of it is figuring out how to do stuff in HTML. I'm finding that sometimes when I'm getting really stressed and upset, figuring out how to do, Idk, anchor links or embedding an image that's also a link, or even just doing a Lot of random angled brackets shit calms me down again, or at least refocuses my attention. So, um, HTML as a compulsion maybe? Fun. Even my mental illness is nerdy though, how embarrassing.

#rxlist dot com says that hypergraphia has been called the midnight disease #which like #very on brand for me

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