I must be honest and say I feel pretty miserable right now, I haven’t all day, I’ve been up and down though. I’ve had like 4 prominent flashbacks our the last 9 days and they’ve zapped me. I think I’m miserable mostly because I’m so tired. Exhausted in fact. I feel a bit burnt out…
I’m sure I will have more energy soon, in the scheme of things my head and I have been so calm this time round. Especially since the new year began. I say new, it’s not so new now.
I’ve felt down a bit, but it’s not been major, especially in comparison. I kinda can’t be arsed to be stressed, I don’t have the energy for it so I’m just doing my thing.
The weather is warming up so I’ll be heading out a bit more soon, I’ve been out and about but to usual places and my best friends house in the city.
I think I’ve automatically fallen into only being able to have people I truly Trust with my full self, and that don’t judge my crazy in the hardest months, which are now coming to an almighty close, and I didn’t burn anything down, YAY!!
I jest, I haven’t ever burned anything down, yet.
I keep thinking it’s later in the year than it is and kicking myself about still being unstable, and then my brain reminds me My birthday hadn’t even passed yet, so don’t panic, sort of thing.
I feel less miserable for writing, already so fingers crossed this is just another momentary lapse for my mood.
We shall see.
Section 3: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI): National Council on Disability
I found this looking up bits to do With PTSD and CPTSD (a bi yearly search for new research and information that can help me with my more chronic symptoms.)
This is one of the first articles I’ve found that defines PTSD as a primarily physical disability.
What a break through this is being recognised
You know, the idea of sanity is a funny thing, and often misinterpreted. The idea being if you are questioning your own Sanity, then you are pretty sane.. It’s when you have no idea regarding your own behaviour the worry should set in, but it wouldn’t for you/me personally because in the moment we wouldn’t realise.
Since I realised just how ‘sane’ I am, I think I’ve never been so unsure about my sanity. Don’t get me wrong, I no longer question it, not like I used to, but it’s an uncertainty that I’ll realise I’m too certain, too sure for my own good.
I have to really pay attention to my own actions at times. In this case regarding my ability to accept new ideas and information, because I live such a knowing certainty that I need to check I’m not just avoiding change and remaining stagnant.
Yet I remain sure while considering new ideas.
The certainty is the foundation on which I live, act, love, the new information is the change in the here and now, the one word or interaction that has the potential to swing your whole perspective whilst remaining on the same Twiist of angle, the same sphere of existence.
The same fundamental universal spheric cycle of life.
Made up of lots of little cycles that all together make up multilevel span of consciousness.
With so many opportunities to expand your cycle, change it, spin it, maybe even turn it into a figure of eight existence. A duality in time.
An unwitting choice of changing, a subconscious manifestation if you will, can make you question your sanity.
I used to make choices unwittingly, now at least 70% of my ideas, words and actions are conscious and subconscious because they are not just a surface decision, they are something I am certain is right for me.
Recently I have been questioning my sanity, uncertain as to why I am so certain about the path that lay ahead, despite the fact I am unsure what will happen next, what choices lay ahead, I am certain I will do the right thing, I have confidence in my choices. The ones that lead me here.
That’s not to say I’m not sad about some of them, but I am sure I did the right thing at the time.
I am certain there is nothing more reassuring than self reassurance, and I believe in my hope, because my hope spurs my determination to not end up in the gutter, No matter how beautiful the stars may be..
I am, after all, stardust just like you.
Why would I be in the gutter when I can be around shining beautiful existences and choices and beings?
Why would I settle for anything less than happiness after the long drawn out journey I have walked to get here?
I wouldn’t, and neither should you.
The last few weeks my headaches have, not returned because they never left, but are making their presence ever felt.
This time last year I was in bed with migraines up to 5 days a week. I got to the point where I made myself find remedial tasks and activities that I could undertake whilst in the throws of it. I was starting to sink into quite hardcore depression approaching the end of February.
They remained ever present and intense for a few months, then dulled again. Toward the end of last year they started causing me problems but only when I was super tired.
Over the last few weeks/months it has become daily again, inducing dizzy spells and disorientation in me. I can feel the pressure in my head.
Sometimes it’s a migraine, others it’s around my ears/nose canal area, then the back of my head at the base of my skull. The pain is quite often in clusters, and when it’s bad I can’t bloody think.
I end up retreating to the bed purely so I can lay down and make my muscles relax which reduces it a little.
Practicing Reiki or meditating, any kind of concentration is so difficult.
So, I’ve been going to the docs about them coming on two years now, I have an appointment next week. I need to push this and the insomnia again. Both top of the agenda because they are what affect me the most, silly every day things like making food for myself, bathing, Erm, I can’t think of anything else. See… I cannot think!!
I think I can write like this because I’m in the practice of doing so, how ever there is little thought involved in this particular post.
Moaning doesn’t really need any thoughts behind it, does it now?
When my heads like this, I do and say stupid things and I react quite Slowly to things. I just end feeling like I’m stupid when I know I’m not and I know I shouldn’t care what people think.. But when my heads fuzzy and painful I just become intolerant, alert, defensive..
It does my nut at times..
Today I awoke with a new vigour, I’m not sure how long it will last. I’ve readjusted to just going with the flow so I’m just riding out what I need to with as much ease as possible.
I’m like 90% sure the flashbacks are about to become prominent again, all the signs are there. I’m going to pre-empt my persistent forgotten memories and sit down and just try to write myself through them.
I’ve done this before but I don’t believe I was in a stable enough mindstate, nor possessed clarity of thought at the time. I couldn’t control the reactive results of memories flashing in my eyelids, baring in, in they are the first time I see them probably since I experienced them, which I probably wasn’t that aware of anyway. I obviously knew what was going on but as far as specific occasions go, there are but a few but I remember things beginning and ending on a more regular basis.
Writing things down will trigger the Shit out of me but I’m kind of fed up with waiting for therapy. I can’t do a lot with out It, but I may be able to achieve more than I realise if I do it safely. I can’t let myself obsess over any memories or details, and I must be clear to recognise when to stop.
Half hour/45 minutes MAX is recommended, I can manage the extra 15, because I’m in the habit of processing things this way, I seem to have an active filter I can almost control.
But, my partner will be there, I will be ready to do things to prevent detachment like touching my legs, or my partner touching my feet to keep my nerve responses in conscious action rather than slipping to physical memory. (The body is a complex things, it’s mad so many aches and pains for us all are mostly physical memory, if we learn to live without them they can be managed and even expelled, makes sense though.. It’s your body being protective of itself.)
On with the nerve wracking scribe, let’s hope I play this right.
Roller-coaster rides of emotions and energy levels.
It’s getting to the point now that I can predict how many weeks away my birthday is, not by date, or position of the Stars and the Sun in the sky, but by how extreme my mood switches are, how regularly I’m dissociating and how weird I’m getting with cleanliness and mess and all that shiz niz.
I’ve said previously it’s because it’s around the time the bit with mum and brother not just mum, not just brother. Anyway, if I wasn’t 100% sure of my yearly cycle before before, I bloody am now.
The Fibro, pains, brain fog, difficulty eating, increasing of impulsive thoughts/behaviour, disorientation, dizziness, blah, blah, blah.
I’m not struggling as such, as with other things it’s all been a lot less intense than previous years, it just gets a bit much being like 24 hours a day and such.
However, the 24 hours a day for how ever many weeks is a huge improvement from all day, every day, period.
Just gotta hang on like usual then.
On and up.
I have a decision to make.
Therapy is still months away and I’m quite concerned I will lose steam for my recovery before then. I was ready months ago, I’m ready now.
I’ve mentioned in a previous blog that my mother has offered to pay for therapy, and stated I couldn’t accept it because I couldn’t accept her and its not fair.
Well, what if it’s actually not fair to not allow her to try to make a mends.
A part of me feels this will be an easy get out clause of responsibility, but I often think the pain I know she experiences for not having her in my life is immense in itself.
The problem is that she hasn’t really changed as a person and I can’t handle a lot of her old behaviour, it triggers the shit out of me.
But then, if therapy helps me to reduce my sensitivity to triggers, you know maybe even unearth the foggy memories will I finally be able to have some kind of relationship with my mother?
See, it’s a difficult one.
You see, the thing is that I also tend to harbour guilt for ridiculous things. Now I don’t carry her as much as I did but I don’t need to be getting issues with mum paying for counselling half way through, quit because I can’t have her have that position of power over me again, of me Letting her.
The power of a raw wound being picked at needing proper medical care.
I’m not meaning to sound ungrateful, at all. There’s just so many reasons not to.
But, there are now becoming more reasons to do it as well.
I think this is one I’ve gotta give my brain time on, let it reach its own conclusion.
About a week then.
I’m warning you now that I am super tired and probably just going to ramble for a few paragraphs.
I’ve stated in the past that I started this blog as an outlet for myself, primarily above everything else. There is not a more successful outlet for me than writing freely, without reason or purpose other than just the element of words barely forming in your head before you’ve already typed or written.
This is very much how I write my poetry, and why in fact.
I write a line sorts of bits and bobs around poetry.
I have a play on the go, a very long term I pick up when I’m inspired will-be-perfect labour of love.
Sometimes I write from direct inspiration, like a saying, word, place, person. I practice writing prompts to give me a break from my own mental creative process.
I love the act of writing, I could do it all day long. Well, I do do it all day long. Mostly for a release.
It’s like pressure builds up inside me, all the creative energy I don’t dispel on a strong fluid note for like 2/3 days (I still write but casually, for the sake of it at times, but it’s just not the same)
Writing is a part of who I’ve become. Who I have grown up being, it has been the only true constant in a life of uncertainty.
I know who I am, where I’m heading, what I’m feeling because I write.
I seem unable to utilise it now, but in the past when I have been confused about something I write about it in what ever form and the confusion clears, like physically cloudy head, you can feel the pressure.
If I don’t write I get wrapped up in my own head, I become irritable, impulsive, emotional, confused all like last Summer.
I lose my identity with in my own mind, in the chaotic thought patterns and habits.
When I write I see clearly through all of this, because I must connect to my own truth, exactly who I am to write.
Especially my fire related stuff, if there’s fire mentioned then you know I’m on a full on creative trip, the insane, beautiful, divine journey into the depths of my imagination.
I love my imagination, my ideas come from it. Not my notions, my pure unadulterated ideas.
They stream, like the words, running through my mind at a million miles a minute.
Especially when I keep up with Reiki and listen to the right music.
I’m learning a lot about my preferred writing conditions. Don’t get me wrong, I can write anything anywhere, except maybe Erotica at my Nan’s house, but I think I could be forgiven for that one.
I try to get out and write elsewhere to retain mutability with my environment. How ever, I love having a desk, with ALL my writing projects in.
I just get them out, put them away. Sounds simple, but believe me when you’re a little old fashioned and work with paper and pen ad much as I do, storage is everything.
It’s like getting a good wardrobe for your clothes, it doesn’t feel huge then when your clothes are sorted and the furniture is clear, you realise how cluttered it was making your head (a well persons version of a basic OCD trait (no, that doesn’t mean you have OCD).
I think I’m doing that with my mind at the moment, but of spring cleaning and clearing out short term chaos.
I’m doing well. I’m quite good at organising my own head.
If only I could remember all those fucked up things that happened to me, I could break them down and tidy away the chaos in my mind, to clear room for peace. but then would I write as I do now?
I wonder, quite often, how ‘right’ those little niggling feelings, awareness, ideas and almost premonitions we all get in weird ways (Trust me, you do even if you don’t realise it) are?
Are they manifestations of what is right for us, or what we want to be right for us?
The determination to get what we want, is it because it’s what we are meant to do, or simply just what we want?
Most of the time I’m a firm believer that yes, mostly they are right, as long as you are not just guided by your blind ignorance. You must be careful which part of yourself, or indeed other people, you listen to.
Anyway, most of the time I’m a firm believer.
However I break on being firm about things partly to be able to consider new ideas, proposals, perceptions, approaches. If I am “firm” on something, how am I learn if it is right or wrong for me if I don’t compare it to what could also be considered in the same, if not a similar, respect?
Am I guided, are we guided by our own stubborn selfish natures , or are we beings of vision?
Is every experience really a life lesson? Do we learn, or fool ourselves into believing we have learned so we can “move on”. Fundamentally an illusion as we all “move on” every minute of every day. What we may currently trying to move on from, we actually moved on from straight after it happened.
So, why do we get stuck with time. A particular time, and place when all they are is a past experience?
Well, I have a tendency to be highly sentimental with a few particular things, times and people.
With each I have a strong association with said thing/time/person(s) because something in my current life is relevant to what it is/who they are/when that was, each shaped the person I have become.
I suppose some parts of history hold our identities as much as any future does, so in essence we are clinging to ourselves. Well, what we believe to be ourselves, at least.
You see, tied in with this is the idea that anything other than us could represent who we are better than we can. Sounds silly right? Yet, we all do it every day when we cling to our phone, rucksacks, handbags, cars, friends, family..
We are not who we are without them.
Yet, I know we all are.
I know situations can change people, but it’s not really change, because it’s you, it’s who you are already reacting to something new.
If the slightest thing changes it feels like a new experience yet we repeat cycles, sometimes even at an hourly rate, without even realising you are Spinning.
Even new reactions are based on old ones. Do your actions really speak volumes? To who? What do they say?
I think to each of those questions my answer would be, “50/50″, rather than “phone a friend”.
Half way there.
So half of my actions represent who I truly am, the other half are who I am trying to leave behind, well lead forward, develop, mould and shape.
So, yes I stick with my original plan, our little knowing, as long as you can see the notion came from peace rather chaos, and love rather than fear.
So, insomnia has been pretty rife recently, as in days.
I’m not particularly frustrated other than I’m not writing half as much as I should be to keep my mind well attuned.
It doesn’t have to be any type of writing either, all of it oils my brain and literally releases what feels like physical mental tension.
I mean, at the end of the day the brain is a muscle. My brain carries a lot of stress with locked up memories and continual thought, when I write I don’t think. I don’t need to, when it flows it just flows.
It makes me feel fluid and adjustable and ready for life.
Don’t get me wrong even if I’m not writing, I’m writing 2/3 pieces a day plus other little bits like Twitter poems, this blog.
But when I am writing to my Flowing steady capacity it’s like 30-45 poems in a week., blogging every other day and writing I’m my journal, plus writing prompts, trips out to write.
I’ve often wondered why I started writing. It’s too long ago to remember, but I also can’t remember a time I didn’t write.
Except 5 months when I lived in a squat up North with minimal possessions, mashed off my face for pretty much the whole time and even then I scribble lots.
People have said to me “don’t stop”. It occurs to me I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
My answer, every time to the “5 things you’d take to an island” have always been:
1 solar panel
2 mp3 player
3 my pen
4 my journal
5 (a million) ink cartridges
Writing is who I am, which is why my writing identity is so much of who I am.
I don’t know about other writers but my pen cannot lie, if it doesn’t make sense it doesn’t flow and lies or cover ups, or what ever usually don’t make sense. I’ve found in my own experience, at least.
I just want a day to sit and write as The Twiistd. She hasn’t had a chance to be present often recently.
Life just gets in the way.