Planning revenge takes a bit of obsession, I'll admit. To properly pull off the kind of revenge I can find satisfaction in, especially the broad scope part, I had to do some pretty deep thinking. What will be required of me executing my strategies? For one thing, I'll have to climb out of my comfort zone into a very uncomfortable spotlight. If I'm going to discuss my personal history and feelings with the world at large, what will this do to the people I care about? Will they stop talking to me? Is stepping out worth the risk of losing family while I'm still learning to keep and grow friendships?
Believe it or not, the hardest part was believing I could do this, not because it felt so unreal, but because I had become so disabled I could barely even piece together a single sentence. This idea of a book felt like something I'm making up, creating a patchwork of truth from slippery memories I had locked away and had really never talked about before. I quietly watched other authors launch from near oblivion into fair bits of success, and realized the goal absolutely must be success or I might never have another chance to get past the sticky pull of my depression, much less the plethora of daily challenges. Every day through bitter tears of crippling pain, crushing depression, and most of all alone, I whispered "I can do this." And every day I have made some kind of progress, sometimes a millimeter at a time, sometimes feeling so fail I could barely imagine going on, but believed I must even if there was no hope and people might think I'm only making up a lie. Because it is my truth.
Through the never ending haze of overwhelming interruption, I learned to develop some very stimulating patterns of thinking, and repetition slowly honed my sword. This had the odd effect of surging me forward with a passion that felt like my soul exploding, and from there it got much easier.