Raise your glass

This weekend my world has changed,  dramatically. I’m not ready to speak about it properly, it just means things are about to change for me in pretty much every part of my life.
The way it happened was a bit rubbish really,  I’m hurting that’s for sure. The thing is that while I’ve been hurting I’ve been planning,  I say planning,  I mean realising what comes next.

At the moment I’m going to have to remain flexible and take each day as it comes. I’m planning on a loose level, however the time span of approaching events is yet another aspect of my life I have no control over.  More waiting. It’s cool,  I actually feel conflicted on this front. I’m hurting, but the feeling I have otherwise I swear is that stretched out moment of the feeling of freedom.  I’m looking forward to the rest of my life, and the opportunity to expand on any previous plans has now,  sort of,  become limitless. Ugh, I just sound elusive, however it really is how few specific details I am able to consider right now. It’s good,  I’m able to let my imagination plan what it likes,  not in an unreasonable manner but fuck it,  right? There’s nothing wrong with being unrealistic occasionally.  Well, what I’m talking about specifically is upping and fucking off to Portugal.. yeah,  that old nugget. I don’t know what draws me there, it was first suggested to me when I was twenty one and living up North. I was sick of moving around a single country and my friend had looked into starting a business there. Obviously,  there’s a lot to consider to make it a possibility and I’m miles off even planning it properly,  but there’s nothing wrong with having a goal, right?
The thing is,  everything is pointing me toward keeping the city lifestyle,  so I wonder if I’d be best turning my sights to somewhere like Barcelona. This is considering the street poetry, which will come with me,  obviously.

I dunno,  it just feels like my goals are just moving further away as I approach a reality built around these goals.  Then it occurs to me this is just another cycle of life,  we set a goal,  reach it, set another goal.  Thing is through all of my ideas about what will or won’t happen,  only three have remained so important to me that I consider them as often as possible.
The first is being well, I mean I will never be “well” as such,  but learn how to live with the one or two OCD symptoms I have not yet mastered or utilitied to my advantage (PTSD should be sorted with EMDR plus recovery time).
The second is to simply remain true to myself,  my instincts & retain some self respect through out my on and off self punishment.
The third is to get the fuck off this rock, somewhere hot with beaches. Hence Barcelona,  a city by the Sea, and Portugal,  which has a gorgeous run of beaches all along one side.

Some people have told me that’s asking a lot,  I think who is that asking a lot of, myself? I think not.  I am the one person I can ask for what ever I might want,  because I am the one that can or cannot make it so.
These are relatively long term plans,  admittedly. I need to allow myself to just hover in the future for a while,  as the past is pointless and the present isn’t that great.

At the moment I’m just going with my own flow, mainly creating a fair amount. Although I cut off creativity way before bed last night and had an accidental film marathon, it was lovely just relaxing.
I’m just trying to give myself space,  although I do feel the freedom it hasn’t kicked in physically yet so I’m giving it to myself where I can.

I am excited for the future,  and a little bored of distracting myself while I wait for the close of the curtain on this scene. The extra positive part is that everything I occupy myself with has a goal in common, I have realised quote recently. The goal itself has not yet materialised,  it’s just come to my attention that so many of my actions are contributing toward furthering the stretch of the poetry project. Yes,  definitely exciting!

So, to the future then…

It’s just all pointless drivel

I’ve got a hospital appointment in six hours to have my jaw looked at (longish story and too brain dead to go into detail). My brain switched off hours ago yet that part of it is still alive and kicking. Insomnia is really starting to piss me off again,  it’s getting in the way of a lot at the moment.  Usually something gets in the way these days that’s related to me personally,  I change things until I’m happy. Obviously if I could do this with the sleeping it would be sorted by now.
I dunno, there’s just no point in me moaning about it,  nothings gonna change until after therapy.

Ugh,  at the moment that’s all it feels like life is, before and after therapy.
It’s T-E-D-I-O-U-S, to say the least.
I’m this ball of everything and nothing wrapped around a fat fucking question mark, with lashings of certainty,  determination and contradiction. Fun times.

You know it’s come to the forefront of my mind that I’m obviously Eager to get out there and create a firm foundation for the street poetry,  my poetry and art,  link it all and make it my full time gig in the long run.  Well,  quite often if I can’t create,  if I’m restricted I start to destroy.  I can’t help it sometimes.  It occurs to me each time I have done this it’s always worked out better than I could have imagined.  I feel Iike a ticking bomb at times,  like it’s gonna take one thing and I’ll fuck it all up over night. 
Don’t get me wrong I’m doing this regardless,  but my planned destruction is the side of me that is capable of meticulous planning,  attention to detail,  all the right things needed to do things properly,  rather than pour petrol over all that I have built and watch it burn to the fucking ground until the smouldering embers are carried away on the breeze, just standing there by the way the flames dance across the walls of my city.
I’ve had fire on the mind (don’t worry,  I’m not about to actually set anything alight,  hopefully, ha). I feel more changes approaching, in me,  again. 
I swear sometimes I can feel the shift… It’s bizarre,  well not really but kinda.

Writing,  art,  socialising,  relaxation,  meditation,  fucking working out,  all the usual bullshit takes the edge off but I just kinda feel like it’s getting worse.
I’m not worried, how can I be when I don’t know what’s coming? I dunno that sounds weird reading it back to myself but I cannot express this any other way than I have,  not as well at least.

Ugh, I’m just rambling now and the brain is trailing off in all directions   … SO many directions in fact that I’ve also had to revert back to keeping three things on the go at any one time,  although I’m making myself stop the more intense things after a certain time of an evening.  How long that will last it another matter. I just love it,  I love creating plus it distracts me,  it’s all bloody processes.  I’m always in a process of something,  every thing is always developing into something further… Moulding through time into one long flowing life process.

Like the process of shifting my brain to a state of near relaxation,  which is required now when I just don’t have the concentration to write, or draw,  or read,  or cut, so I listen to music,  doodling and smoking and generally fucking about on the net catching up with stuff like project related art, poetry,  the coming blog,  blah blah. 

Ah man,  something has gotta give, somewhere regarding mental health.
I fucking miss being an adult

Thinking ..

Back in November when I ceased the regular writing I was on a bit of a creative negatory front in general, staying there for what ended up being a few months.
During this time I began  to turn my attention to other creative endeavours and bringing to the forefront many childhood favourites to chuck in the old activities box.
Gradually over the last three or four months I have dabbled in various forms of visual art, now each of these endeavours has come into direct play regarding the progress of my street poetry. It’s all becoming one continual motion.
It’s funny isn’t it,  we talk of endings and beginnings yet neither really exist.  Writing didn’t end, then painting begin. ,  I painted as a child,  now as an adult alongside the poetry.  Really everything in life,  every moment blurs into the next,  all moments really exist for are memories.  Experience on the other hand,  experiences occur simultaneously, the end of one experience could be just two thirds of the way through the next, this just isn’t possible with moments.
So why do we hang so much on one moment in time when only you define that snippet,  the moment is merely concept. Where as experience can be shared,  or had alone,  they are a series of moments. 
Now if you watched a TV series you wouldn’t reach a conclusion regarding the nature of the series,  the content,  relevance,  importance from just one episode. We would consider this,  think about it,  watch another episode to find out more information surrounding the idea.
It doesn’t make sense really does it,  we hold an episode or series on television higher on the scale of importance than our very own experience of the world around us.

Tuesday Ramblings

I’ll just get straight to the point.  My mum’s been texting me,  and it’s throwing me off a bit. This is my greatest conflict and the only thing capable of spreading conflict to other areas of my life. Saying that,  I’m not budging, I can’t. I promised myself I would take everything as and when at my own pace. 
This is was has kept me stood firm in particular convictions since I made the decision to stop other people ruling my life.  I don’t mean people who don’t have a huge affect on your life,  like friends and such,  essentially you choose how far you let them go,  it’s the ones that are in your heart,  firmly wedged for what ever reason.

At the end of the day she is my only mother and always will be.  I’m just very protective of her,  I worry about her because I know who she is. It’s difficult to explain without using direct current examples and although I write about my childhood and such I feel it’s unfair to discuss anything that doesn’t directly involve me. She’s still a person,  and well,  that’s it really. Fundamental human rights,  right?

Well I just spent a lot of time looking after her,  not a carer as such but I was giving her advice on her love life when I was like eight.  She’s always confided in me,  things that make me think back now and all I can do is put my face in my hands at the lack of logic in most of her actions. (It’s not just that, it’s just so much we’d be here all day, I’m sure I’ll get there eventually.) I don’t mean individual logic m,  group logic,  logic based on society or information or anything even remotely non-sensical,  not even thinking-out-of-the-box type logic.  Bizarre,  unbelievable,  a whole range of other words that I don’t believe could possibly do this attempt at a description any kind of justice! Words cannot express,  despite the fact they just did (I always think that when I hear that saying).

My mother is an enigma, wrapped in a quantum equation,  written in nadsat (A Clockwork Orange language,  the book is written completely in Nadsat, love it). Last Summer I promised myself I would cut the parents out because that’s what was best for me. When I revert back to what is essentially Stockholm syndrome (no word of a lie),  the whole empathising with your abuser,  it’s fucking difficult to stop myself contacting them.  I cannot allow myself to do that,  if things work out with my folks it’ll be because I’m well and we have reached agreements for all the right reasons,  not because the way they hurt me breaks my heart under all frustration and judgement. I will always love them, not a day goes by I don’t think about them.  It’s just it occurs to me I don’t consider them on the front of parental love,  I worry about them  I worry that can’t look after themselves,  I worry they are keeping their emotions locked up and not talking to people about them.  I worry they are hurting and alone, feeling abandoned by the world,  me included.  In their lonely moments what occurs to them?

I’ve spent so much time alone that it just doesn’t seem to bother me.  Don’t get me wrong,  I’m very social,  I love spending time with my loved ones because I love the memories they give me.  On the rare occasion these days,  that I cannot handle being alone,  it is these memories of these very, very few special people to me that I think about,  and write about.  It’s these times that comfort me.  My family though,  my parents aren’t great at being alone for long periods of time.  It’s then I think about,  quite simply it makes me frown,  a lot.
I’ve accepted this is a state I cannot avoid, enabling me to entertain the idea of them without breaking on my decisions, it still hurts like fuck though.

I did falter,  I nearly replied just because it’s rude not to,  but I can’t just keep pleasantries with her.  I’ll admit I’m angry that I have to push myself to go through Dragging up memories I could do with not staring me in the face just to be able to move on with my life. 
Usually, I’d make myself see it as just life,  but I’ve got to allow it at times and now is the time to be considering these things. Let’s be honest,  I’m about to partake in one of my favourite films as a kid.  It’s like when Atreyu (Never ending story) has to see his own true reflection,  I’m about to stare all the ugliness trapped under this bullshit right in the face.  That which made me who I was,  which in turn made me who I am,  which in turn will make me who I will become.
Who I will become,  now that is someone I’d like to stare right in the face. Something in me has changed in me again,  this idea doesn’t scare me anymore,  which is what makes me so afraid. Like maybe I think I’m riding in on this dark,  beautiful black stallion in titanium armour,  with kevlar lungs, a graceful Japanese blade and the heart of a warrior. Then I wake up in a reality where I’m riding in on a clapped out old mule in a linen suit with a can opener.

That’s just it you see,  how much of this is blind faith,  how much of my life do I survive utilising my own imagination and perceived intense connection to everyone and everything around me? Does it matter? Yes and no,  it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t cause ripples rocking other people’s boats,  however it matters if fuck with other people’s lives in the process. This is why I isolate myself,  it always has been.  I don’t wanna hurt people,  I think I’ve done it so many times I just can’t do it anymore.  There’s a lot I don’t fuck up on in life,  people are not one of them.
This is born mainly in the notion that refuse to end up like my parents,  who hurt each other,  me &  my brothers,  my mum’s parents hurt her,  I just want to end the cycle.  I swore to myself a long time ago I wouldn’t be that guy.  Yet I have been so many times.
Then it occurs to me with further thought that people come to rely on me, some people in some respect. I forget that I am not totally unreliable,  so I just think well what difference would it make,  in the long run what if they don’t see it that way?
I was having a conversation with my neighbour the other day,  my mental health was briefly discussed and I stated that the lower I am the more I seclude myself,  especially emotionally.  When I am someone who is usually quite emotionally available to completely withdraw from life must seem like a strong statement.  Well it is,  just about me,  not them.
It’s not that I haven’t thought about this, this again relates to therapy.  Some parts of my thought patterns I can’t adjust alone so I do what I usually do,  what I can when I can. This I seem unable to change right now, it’s frustrating but I can’t let everything frustrate me otherwise I’ll just be fired up and someone will be at the other end of this. This needed to change, it’s in the process like all of this, switching between mindsets. There’s so much more, things I’m set on, certain about.   Now is the time to prepare for these.
Now is the time to match each word with action.  I see the path before so ridiculously clearly when I remember to actually look,  even glance at it.

Seriously,  it’s a little amusing what I realise when I write sometimes.  Just having that extra space for the thought processes,  a little like an extra R.A.M. and memory space. 

As for the initial and repeated subject of my folks I’ve just accepted this is the way it’ll be with me while I’m in this perpetual state of hanging around,  waiting for therapy,  waiting for my own flat.  It’s cool though,  this perpetual state of waiting has fueled the fire on other fronts I’ve pushed forward on.
As long as the fire is burning,  there’ll be no problem. Even on the down days,  you just have to keep going at whatever speed you are,  no matter what. I am truly learning that living a life aimed in all the right directions is the very best thing you can do,  and try your hardest to enjoy every step, in any way, no matter how simply.  If you can’t manage enjoyment,  at least feel,  feel everything you can and give yourself a Roller-coaster ride.  No ups without the downs,  it’s not physically possible. 

The Element of Self care

If I’m honest insomnia has been heavily present recently,  it just hasn’t been surrounding negative thoughts so I’ve just been going with the flow. 
When this happens it’s important to take extra care of your body giving it the right kind of energy and relaxation to prevent long term damage to the nerves,  organs and systems. Primarily the digestive system. 

When we sleep our bodies take the opportunity to process toxins,  fats,  etc and releases what it doesn’t need.  When you don’t get the required 6-8 hours you’re body lacks the necessary time to essentially reset itself. It’s important that the brain be considered when addressing self care issues,  just as much as the digestive system.  The two are extremely closely linked in through the Vegas nerve,  which is effected quite intensely during time of stress. 
Bare in mind stress isn’t always negative,  the same process occurs whether we get excited about something than when we get angry, its all adrenaline at the end of the day.

This has been a prominent issue for me very recently.  I’m spending more and more time immersed in my own creativity,  which has meant more time in chunks spent not coming away from the corner,  I just can’t help it.  I enjoy it,  what’s the problem,  right?
Wrong.  Any periods of longer than 10-14 hours means you must allow space to give your body and brain a break.  During times of high stress,  high levels of physical or mental activity,  challenging or otherwise,  it’s so ridiculously important to regulate food intake,  rest time,  fun time,  chill time,  blah,  blah.  So much more so if you can’t sleep,  you must make up for problems elsewhere.  The best thing is once you push yourself into a routine,  it’s easy to fall back into once you fuck it up,  which will happen,  many times.

The whole element has been brought to my attention by my friend who is also my masseuse.  She too has gone through recovery,  although not for the same thing. 
We met when I started getting quite bad migraines and the doctor’s just kept trying to put me on more medication. I contacted her originally for a quote on an Indian Head massage as this has been recommended to me on several occasions when discussing long term solutions for headaches & pains brought on by the nerve damage commonly associated with PTSD diagnosis. That was two years ago, and she has become a regular part of self care within my household. 

You see when I couldn’t find the therapy I required in the mental health services I spent a hell of a lot of time researching symptoms, causes, ways to reduce pain damage,  etc.  Especially surrounding insomnia and it’s many side effects. 
As the body doesn’t have time to process toxins and drain the lymph nodes around our body, a massage is the perfect thing to help your body out.  The pressure points around the body,  when utilitised,  trigger a release of these toxins. When you are active the body retains these in the muscles,  which is a common cause for our aches and pains,  which we then mask with painkillers and such while it all builds up.  A massage even once every other months does wonders,  along with realigning your posture and essentially performing a factory reset on your muscle tissue. 
Have you ever noticed at the end of a day that your shoulders are hunched,  or you hold yourself in a particular way when in stressful situations? Well that is physical memory,  I guess like memory foam, ya know great on a bed,  crap when your body is supposed to be flexible and capable of many varying movements.  When you get into a habit of holding yourself a certain way It’s difficult to always acknowledge that you need to just stretch it out and let the blood flow return naturally.
Quite often I make the mistake of forcing it with exercise when a gentle stretch 3-4 times a day does wonders for reducing pain,  physical and mental stress,  discomfort in the joints,  etc. I must stress don’t start doing this if you have particular physical issues as you could make them worse,  get on the net and have a look for stretches suitable for your condition.

There are so many elements of self care I so often forget because I feel so much better than I ever have.  I must remind myself even the most well individual must perform some level of maintenance to stay on a decent mental and physical level. I must also remind myself I possess more tools than most to utilise in the routine,  purely because I’ve had to really.

I keep forgetting I’m not over the final hurdle yet.  I must pay more attention to the little things,  I certainly know better!

If I’m honest insomnia has been heavily present recently,  it just hasn’t been surrounding negative thoughts so I’ve just been going with the flow. 
When this happens it’s important to take extra care of your body giving it the right kind of energy and relaxation to prevent long term damage to the nerves,  organs and systems. Primarily the digestive system. 

When we sleep our bodies take the opportunity to process toxins,  fats,  etc and releases what it doesn’t need.  When you don’t get the required 6-8 hours you’re body lacks the necessary time to essentially reset itself. It’s important that the brain be considered when addressing self care issues,  just as much as the digestive system.  The two are extremely closely linked in through the Vegas nerve,  which is effected quite intensely during time of stress. 
Bare in mind stress isn’t always negative,  the same process occurs whether we get excited about something than when we get angry, its all adrenaline at the end of the day.

This has been a prominent issue for me very recently.  I’m spending more and more time immersed in my own creativity,  which has meant more time in chunks spent not coming away from the corner,  I just can’t help it.  I enjoy it,  what’s the problem,  right?
Wrong.  Any periods of longer than 10-14 hours means you must allow space to give your body and brain a break.  During times of high stress,  high levels of physical or mental activity,  challenging or otherwise,  it’s so ridiculously important to regulate food intake,  rest time,  fun time,  chill time,  blah,  blah.  So much more so if you can’t sleep,  you must make up for problems elsewhere.  The best thing is once you push yourself into a routine,  it’s easy to fall back into once you fuck it up,  which will happen,  many times.

The whole element has been brought to my attention by my friend who is also my masseuse.  She too has gone through recovery,  although not for the same thing. 
We met when I started getting quite bad migraines and the doctor’s just kept trying to put me on more medication. I contacted her originally for a quote on an Indian Head message as this has been recommended to me on several occasions when discussing long term solutions for headaches & pains brought on by the nerve damage commonly associated with PTSD diagnosis. That was two years ago, and she has become a regular part of self care within my household. 

You see when I couldn’t find the therapy I required in the mental health services I spent a hell of a lot of time researching symptoms, causes, ways to reduce pain damage,  etc.  Especially surrounding insomnia and it’s many side effects. 
As the body doesn’t have time to process toxins and drain the lymph nodes around our body, a massage is the perfect thing to help your body out.  The pressure points around the body,  when utilitised,  trigger a release of these toxins. When you are active the body retains these in the muscles,  which is a common cause for our aches and pains,  which we then mask with painkillers and such while it all builds up.  A massage even once every other months does wonders,  along with realigning your posture and essentially performing a factory reset on your muscle tissue. 
Have you ever noticed at the end of a day that your shoulders are hunched,  or you hold yourself in a particular way when in stressful situations? Well that is physical memory,  I guess like memory foam, ya know great on a bed,  crap when your body is supposed to be flexible and capable of many varying movements.  When you get into a habit of holding yourself a certain way It’s difficult to always acknowledge that you need to just stretch it out and let the blood flow return naturally.
Quite often I make the mistake of forcing it with exercise when a gentle stretch 3-4 times a day does wonders for reducing pain,  physical and mental stress,  discomfort in the joints,  etc. I must stress don’t start doing this if you have particular physical issues as you could make them worse,  get on the net and have a look for stretches suitable for your condition.

There are so many elements of self care I so often forget because I feel so much better than I ever have.  I must remind myself even the most well individual must perform some level of maintenance to stay on a decent mental and physical level. I must also remind myself I possess more tools than most to utilise in the routine,  purely because I’ve had to really.

I keep forgetting I’m not over the final hurdle yet.  I must pay more attention to the little things,  I certainly know better!

Also

I just read my previous entry about feeling flashbacks coming, and I haven’t had any flashbacks.  That’s actually really quite positive,  although that’s not to say I’ve not been having them in my sleep.  For now I’d rather that because once therapy starts it’s 12 weeks of flashback bullshit.  There’s still a possibility I will actually be fine,  but there’s just no way of knowing really.  I think that’s the scary bit,  if someone could say to me definitely which way it was going I be fine either way,  I can prepare myself for anything.  That’s always been the problem with therapy as well,  it’s the not knowing. 
Anyway,  cool to no flashbacks.  Woo!

Update from the frontline

I noticed I hadn’t posted for a while so it kinda dawned on me I’ve probably not been venting my repetitive thoughts and such as much as I should.

On the mental health front I’ve had the usual ups & downs, this week, however, has been easier as I’ve been writing so much.  More on that in a minute. Continuing down the road of the crazy I’ve been on the case with therapy,  calling them and now I’ve written a letter as well.  When it comes to the whole issue regarding the disorders (see that, I can’t own it again… Not “my” but “the”) I have exercised patience at every step.  At this stage if I don’t do what I’m doing I’ll be a name on a pile for another year and I am so beyond ready for this.  I’m ready to just live my life,  ya know, alas all good things come to those who wait.
That’s the problem you see,  I used to wait for everything and then spanning 2011-2012 I learned a harsh lesson in the importance of acting on your words which just kicked me firmly into action. Now I find myself once again learning the importance of patience in several areas of my life, not that this is a problem, I’ve spent most of my life waiting for things. The mental health front,  however,  is back on and once I again I’m wading into a pile of dead bodies left from the last battle,  in full armour with an arsenal beyond most people’s comprehension.

Now,  writing.  I am beginning to write like I was back in September,  however it is less intense,  which is good.  Last year I was probably writing more than I ever had,  and I was attempting to Twiist the purpose of writing from a mental health coping mechanism into just writing,  about anything.  It occurs to me I wrote so well (in my opinion) because I approach little without the enthusiasm of a four year old (or me) in a ball pit, of course I was writing so intensely. 
During the down time between November and about 6-8 weeks ago I was concerned as to why I couldn’t achieve that enthusiasm,  whilst retaining awareness that in that time I’ve been diagnosed with OCD so the writing was indeed a compulsive mechanism.  As I’ve spent so much time and energy being aware of when my brain reverts back to coping mechanisms I no longer allow myself to get that involved in anything I think will result in the old insomniac cycle.  That’s not to say I don’t have it anyway,  and the restlessness contributes, it’s just really,  really different, I’m different.  But I haven’t been in a cycle for a long time,  so the effort is clearly paying off. (So much to moving on from mental health, right? Oh well.)
The writing I’m managing at the moment,  a lot of it I’m keeping behind closed doors,  the bits I’ve taken too that I got right first time (always best first time,  otherwise the more tries in one sitting,  the worse they get).  I think I have finally written something for the musician in Austria,  and it works.  With the beat,  the theme,  her style,  my style,  I finally fucking nailed it (I hope). Now I need to look into hiring a recording studio to put my voice on it and send it to her, we will go from there. This, of course,  means I shall have to step up the spoken word practice.  There are a few spoken word open mics coming up in September so I’m gonna regrow my stage balls and get myself back out there.

Momentarily at least,  all is pointing in the right direction,  let’s hope it stays that way.

Paternally speaking

For the first time in a long time I woke up this morning missing my Dad. It’s been on my mind since,  usually I’m able to just push it away.. but we all know the more you ignore something the more it’s gonna come up and bite you in the arse.

I was angry,  and being dragged down by it.  Anything to do with them brings back the massive weighted rock in my stomach. 
There’s little I can’t do to change things in my life,  this is completely out of my control.  There’s just a ball of all the crap from all the years… it actually brings that physical sensation of not being able to breathe,  or struggling because of the weight on my chest.  Forgetting to because my body is held in that moment,  those moments… Whatever.

You know,  I’ve dealt with brother issues,  dealing with mother issues,  don’t tell me there’s daddy ones on top of that.

I know that feeling though,  it means a series of flashbacks is about to come barging their way into my existence and just ruling me for how ever long they do. It varies each time.

I guess it’s a good thing I can pinpoint this, I didn’t used to be able to. 
I thought for a while that if I could understand when I was more likely to trigger that I could avoid them.  But they are still memories trying to process so they come no matter what you do. You just gotta sit back and take it like a bitch, which just isn’t me.  I do anything I can to reduce long lasting effects though,  it rarely works,  what else can I do?

I wrote about 7 diary entries on Monday,  after giving my thoughts paperspace it was easier to breathe.
It turns out communication,  writing,  talking and such bring the memories out of the limbic system where they can never be processed, into the cortex to be processed,  labeled and filed away into the memory bank. 
I utilise this as much as I can,  but rarely in the throws of it all can I pick up the pen or make much sense at all,  purely because the memory is in the limbic system,  triggering releases cortisol which essentially blocks off access to the cortex,  you are all fight or flight.

Anyway,  I’m going to write when I need to and just do what I need to,  once the flashbacks have passed it will be easier to process all of this… I hope. 

None of it changes the situation though does it? I need to learn to let go,  with this whole part of it,  and move on. 

This is so fucking tedious.

From Sanity to stardust, in one certainty

Another big problem at the moment,  combination of little confusion,  being certsin of where I stand,  yet I clearly have misplaced my certainty. 
I need to stop worrying about coming across as vain and just continue to appear that way,  blind faith is the only way to get some things done.. Blind/gut faith in your own certainty. 

” 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.  “

http://wp.me/s2Wrb4-821