Thirty-First - Stream of Consciousness

This is a stream of consciousness post. I am trying to write because I am on a self-appointed deadline and I want to finish my books early so I can perhaps publish them early but I don't know if it's possible. With my fiance moving in, my daughter moving back in with me, I will be heavily distracted. If James gets a job during the hours that my daughter is at school, I will perhaps have six hours to myself to create but will that be enough? I am a skilled enough typist but the problem is arisen where my mind is not as quick, not as sharp as it used to be and I wonder if I have enough brainpower to manifest a story, the poetry, the short stories, as quickly as I created the first three chapters of my novel. I am doing my best, but I am succumbing to doubt. Am I an author? Will my product be good enough? Will people buy it? What is my motivation for writing? I've wanted to be an author ever since I was little. I thrived when it was writing time. I feel blessed that I was enrolled in schools that encouraged creativity, imagination, and innovation. I hope I can achieve my dreams. I cannot imagine the joy I will feel as I publish my books. I will officially be an author when that happens. No one will be able to tell me different. I will be create my own destiny. I only wonder if I have the strength. 

Post-traumatic stress disorder and mental conditioning thrust upon me by other parties, namely my family, have crippled me. Am I intelligent? Everyone says so. Even my detractors have always told me I'm smart. It's funny how some people claim I'm manipulative and successful at getting people to do what I want, but I am also stupid. That makes no sense. It takes some sort of cunning to manipulate people, and while I know I possess some small part of it, I have no desire to manipulate people. I want people to want me - my company, my body, my friendship. If I have to manipulate them into giving that desire to me, I no longer have value for the relationship. It's really very simple. I just need to get all these racing thoughts out of my head. 

I despise bipolar disorder. I take my medications faithfully and I do my best to surround myself with peace and calm, but sometimes the manic episodes sneak in and I can't shut up my mind. I wish my novel flowed as easily as this post is flowing. But I am so self conscious about how the end product will be received that I second guess every word I write. What am I to do? I suppose I could turn to my Ativan, but I really don't want to abuse it. I just need something stronger. It is when I am like this that I fear my future. Notice how I went from declaring my destiny as my own to create to fearing my destiny as if it's out of my control. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.