a change is good sometimes…right?

I go about my life with a steady but unclear pattern.. if i don’t then my whole life feels like it is spinning in circles. Every time there is to be a major shift in my day to day life.. all my thoughts and patterns seem to freeze in place. i cant compute them i just wait for the new thing to be apart of the day to day untill it blends with all the other needs of my day to day schedule..

So major life change will occur in a month.. so if im silent it is because im stuck in my holding pattern.. until it becomes normal.. im opening my home up to a family member. a young person. And although we get along great, its a different thing to have someone in my day to day life. in my personal space and in my life in general. I don’t bond well and sometimes my mouth does what it wants. i lack sensitivity when my patterns are disrupted.

I hope this works out well, but im alittle scared.  wish me luck.

They are just thoughts…right?

My posts are just thoughts, not meaningful to share or world views that might share concerns for everyone. They are just my thoughts. Insignificant to everyone else, That is probably why i haven’t many followers. But to me they are more. a collection of time and feelings that amount to a life lived. For me  it was a hard life to capture in memory. Most of my life i was unaware of what i really was. I had always written things down out of compulsion, i think, to try and understand what was happening to me. to try and remember things i was told i was doing but had no memory of. As a child i felt fear of myself. i remember always crying alone because of what people said i did, that i have no memory of. So i began to except blame for everything and anything that went wrong around me. I would admit to things i had no memory of doing and just except that other people must be right and i was always wrong. it made me very insecure and very isolated. I started notebooks of endless rambling of everyday doings and how i felt. pointless… well i thought.. well into my teenage years i wrote these books of nothingness never stopping to go back and read them. they just piled up in a closet for none to read. until i did… there were things in my books that i had not written.. places and people were spoken of that i did not know. a world in books that i don’t remember. there were memories of abuse that i to this day don’t remember.

i denied these things at first. even though i couldn’t escape the truth that they were written… how do i deny that.. that amongst the things i did write , were things i didn’t.. like a novel i read the memories from these mystery parts of me and it explained alot of the things that i experienced on a day to day basis.. missing time was something i hide from my family ..i think i was just crazy or maybe i just daydreamed so much that i passed hours away without noticing.. i tried alot of different way to hide the truth from others and mostley .. myself.

I carried these books with  me right up till i moved here to oregon.. i left them in the care of my daughter, who had since read them and lost them.. but now i have this blog to carry around and i know that sometimes my entries in this blog seem empty of talent and empty of meaning to everyone else,, it is the only way in my world to hold on to and understanding of who i am and what my illness is.. capturing myself and knowing myself threw the writings of the others. understanding that as i work and live day to day that somehow their influence is pushed into my waking mind and in order to hold on to reality i most know and read.. where my feelings come from..

I use this public forum so that i am not alone in my conclusions. so that other people can comment and tell me their conclusions of what it is that i am.. so that i don’t do as i did as a child and isolate and hide.. because im tired of fighting this fight alone.