I don't know why?

I am in one of the happiest places, I'm on holiday. The same hotel complex we have visited for the last six years. We are recognised by the staff and we all in turn know thier names. They have watched my children grow over the years from buggies to the now confident key caring independent selves.

It is a safe place. We all know what we can eat and where, what pool is what temperature and what restaurant plays the football. Yet amazingly there are still incredible things to be discovered, first times that neither I nor Zippy thought would happen.

Example 1.

Zippy and I are sharing a bedroom for the first time, not just sharing a room but we have zipped our single beds together! Zippy and I have swapped places - he has lost three stone and now does not snore and I have started to snore (LOL - I'm getting my own back).

Example 2.
I am wearing 'just a swimming costume!'. For those of you, who have been on holiday with me, will know I usually wear at least one pair of cycling shorts, one costume and a knee length dress.

It all amazing!!! It's all victories and moving forward moments. BUT! I need to be truthful to myself and have a blog rant to get tensions OUT!!!. Also because I can't be bothered to drink to relax as my liver hurts. Yes my liver is protesting or maybe it's my gallbladder (humph) so I need another way to go RAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! SO here goes!

I love swimming and playing catch with the kids. Finding myself switching ages, I get caught in different memories. Wearing Just a swimming costume, something I have not done since childhood, also messes with all my senses. I love it and feel free, the wind hugs you and the sun strokes you (body memories start to fight); Ages switch and flip through my brain and body.  

Back to the present those are my children, I am not a child. I organise everything, fold all the towels, make the bed, and clean the kitchen; my age returns. Then fear creeps around and I realise I have no control over my food but this year there is an abundance in our fridge, thanks to the lovely Mrs P, and we have food vouchers. I switch ages again and talk to all my selves reminding them we are all safe and will not go hungry. Coming back to 2016 I try to remeber what my children have eaten, what they might need to eat, whether thier behaviours are hunger based, over stimulated based or sleep needing. 

It would be lovely to get rid of all this ridiculous worry by having a pint of a large bicardi and coke, as this option is not available I leave you with the following;

What about sun screen?

When did we last all use sunscreen?

Check, check no one is burnt...

How many calories have we consumed?

What's the time?

Where in the day are we?

Who is with me now?

How old are you?

Where did you go?

Is there anything I can do to help you?

Climb back, climb back.... Don't run from each other, if we run we will just keep colliding, Who are you? Where are you from? How can I help you? Would you walk with me? Can I introduce you to my own children? Who are you? Where are you from? ...... Roll over!...... Oh it's just Zippy. That body heat is not a threat. That breathing is not going to kill you. In fact the heat is OK too. It's not going to be something you have to endure and survive... Walk with me my ages... Walk with me.... Let me walk with you in the heat that is to be enjoyed and celebrated and maybe I say thank you to me clever liver for helping us all dance through our panic and fear. All my ages, all my voices - we are safe! Let's rebuild and keep mapping a new memory path whilst respecting and grieving the old.

Films one and two.

 One year a very important event happened. I think I was about nine. Our church farm was going to be sent two films. Naturally we were all excited! We were one of the fortunate families in Zimbabwe to have a Betamax video and occasionally we would go to drive in movies. These films however were going to be for everybody. Even better than that these films were apparently going to

help save people. Now you didn't have to go a hundred metres to realise that there was a lot of saving to be done. As a country we were three years into a six years drought and our dam was drying up, the crops needed rain, people were getting extremely thin and our cows were being rationed for their dried husks.

I was so excited we were taken to our church building on town after dark and the little hall became rammed. The Pilgrims Progress began. However as Christine stumbled through his journey I didn't understand it at all and it just became more and more upsetting; he was having a horrible time and even when he was doing things that he thought would make him happy - they even end up hurting him. My stomach twisted more and more and I cried. It was a horrible film! I couldn't understand how on earth it was going to help anyone.

Sticking out

I once watched a series of you tube videos looking at how different communities embrace harsh experiences. For example if a whole set of people have experienced an earthquake then they journey together in the path to processing that experience and coming to terms with it. Everyone in the same boat wobbling along together, everyone having and giving support in the most basic form by just knowing what the other has experienced the same experience.

Similarly we at the moment in the UK have just been through the last few years of our banking system collapsing. Everyone has an opinion on it and has or knows someone that has been affected by the capital fear. Its a journey we as a country have travelled together and are still travelling together.

We have friends that work in the village in Romania (near the old orphanage which made us shudder on early 90s news headlines) and although divided in its opinions there is an understanding for those who grew up in the orphanage, there is a massive amount of unsaid communication as to what and why those individuals are the way they are. 

Trigger Warning Shame.

 

What do you do if your world view is lived through spectacles of fear. Some one might say, "do you remember that holiday?" and the memory  leaps into your mind as, "DO YOU REMEMBER THAT HOLIDAY!!!" or a comment "What a lovely sunny day" and you interpret it as, "UNKNOWN SUNNY DAY!!!". Here another classic "we are going out today" and you spiral out of control "WHAT?  WHY?  WHERE? WHEN???".

As I have discussed in previous blogs my world view only came mostly from one point of origin  FEAR! and I want to break another littlle chunk of that " fear off" so here goes.

I first met frog face through a girl on the school bus. Two other girls and myself would go to smoke at her house. I was 13 and the others where 11. Soon frog face used to ask us to go and collect more cigarettes from different mens houses off the estate. The men would ask us to sit on their laps and watch TV with them, in return we would have earn our own packet of fags. Over a few months things escalated and frog face started to send my friends on thier own to collect cigeretts (and now money to).

I, having already developed a pretty soild freeze response to threat became pretty useless on these "collecting missions". I still have incredible memories of beiing frozen sat at certain tables unable to move whilst smelling and listening to noise. Often the noise would be my friend laughing and giggling, deep inside me these noise's would cut thru me like ice. I knew things where not right. The smells were wrong!

Soon frog face would not even send me, instead she would do what was called the "staring game".  You see frog face had another power she practiced white witchcraft and claimed to be psychic. Frog face introduced me to smoking skunk with her, I felt guilty but important. She would draw pictures with me and make me dinner at the weekends, she would meet me straight of the school bus and take me to the chip shop.

As you know I came from a strict brethren  type back ground. I was not just smoking but smoking drugs, I was listening to music and enjoying it!. I new my friends were in trouble but I couldn't help no matter how much I prayed and I knew this was because God was angry with me. I was selfish so my prayers ment nothing. To top it all my new friend was into whitch craft. The shame was over whelming. The serect grew and grew. So to did my thinking that frog face really cared for me. She would stare into my eyes and claim to have read my toughts. I knew my thoughts were of how sinful I truly was, how evil I had become. So Pretty early on I cried and frog face would hug me. Not just a quick hug but a hug that felt like it would never end, she would stroke my head and until my tears dried up and I felt safe.

I dont need to write what happen in the months after as Im sure you all understand, and this blog is not about that its about sticking my fingers up at shame! 

 Back then in that religous world there was only black and white, there were leaders, elders, prophets, and their judgement it absolute. Often their understanding was fairly flawed. Having already got  a  reputation of unruly angry behavior from about the age of two, I was in the dog house with the majority of most people's thinking. I already hated myself and my reactions. It came as no suprise to me that I had "fallen way beyond" the point of grace. 

I decided that God had given me a way to redeem myself, that because me body was alredy filthy it could be used until such times as frog face joined the church. I decied that this must be Gods way of saving frog face and if I could just hold out she would have a damacas experience and everything would be ok. We could then just be friends she wouldn't  need to do thoes things to me any more and I would have helped save her, bring her to the narrow path.

Frog face played on this she stole bibles and but them under her bed, she put a picture of Jesus on her bedroom door and kissed it regulary, she would cry and say how awful she was but that the devil had her in his grip. 

 

After a while I gave up, my spirit broke as her "rituals" started leaving marks on my body. It was as if she never left me not even at school. I bunked PE because I could no longer get changed. One day I got  of the school bus two stops after mine so frog face would think I was not on it. I sneaked home. I realised I was going to have to hide and let God down. I couldn't  wait for her to be saved any longer.

So the shame grew. I had now let God down again! the one chance I had to redeam myself gone. I hated myself, I was thoroughly  disgusting. Frog face continued to stalk me for six years until I moved to Nottingham. My only way to try and fight back was to sneak out in the middle of the night. I took the dog and a knife to try and kill her. So the shame grew I was now lusting after murder, there was no goodness left, my heart must be black. To counter act this horrendous realisation I decided it would be best if I could get raped. I knew people got help and understanding and forgiveness from the church if you got raped.  I would be able to keep frog face a secret but get forgiveness. All my behavior would be understood and I would be acceptable again. So I now wandered at night into every dodgy palce I could find, and I would cry because I was to dirty to even be raped no one came near me. God must be so cross with me. So the shame grew.

I write this now because as I said I want to stick two fingers up to shame, I still sometimes have the thought as people compliment me, but what if people found out you tried to kill? (although I now know that it wasnt my fault),  Well  to you horrid untruth, I stick two fingers up! because now everyone knows!  

Bloggs, peeps and Netflix

Write a Blog

Write a Blog (to get it all out)

What a slog 😁😁😁😁

See through the fog

Fog that leaves you agog😳😳😳😳

WHAT!! WHAT!! WHAT!!!

Oh for crying out loud!!!!

hold your head up be proud!!!

Your not on a lonely cloud,☁️☁️☁️

Lets be old fashioned, for the people you see

they happen to love thee!💚💚💚

Feed off thier smiles hold their hands,

stumble rumble on in all the foriegn lands,🌄🗻🌅🗻🌄🌅

But every now and then take a rest,

and watch the Netflix you like best!!!!

📺📺📺📺📺📺📺📺📺📺📺📺📺

From the valleys to the extreme heat

Quite frankly I have reached a stage where writing anything makes me sick with worry. So why write? Well I am also aware that part of the root of the worms living in my stomach is fear. Fear of writing the wrong thing, fear of hurting people, fear of creating conflict, fear of just mucking up without realising till its too late.

On reflection comes the realisation that these are the very fears that have often got me into so many pickles. So I want to push through.

 I was brought up in a "strongly faithed' family although not strict brethren we were a sort of off shoot 'radical type' style of brethren. Women adhered to the submission of men in a classic sense. Women wore head coverings and dressed in simple fashion. Main stream life/music/dress were seen as wrong and sinful  "of the world".

The men in our lives were strong larger than life dominate characters who took the younger men under their wing. Teaching them the same radical strengths they believed would  help build a more forgiven, holy cleaner world.

Now at this point the worms have wriggled into my core. You see I still have a very strong faith but only as a result of rejecting most of what I was brought up to believe. In fact I imagine if I were to sit down with any of those from my childhood, many would shake their heads at the way I have been 'polluted'. 

But I can honestly say my Faith is at peace now.

As a child my impression (rightly or wrongly) from an early age was of a danger, the world  simply being split between Good and Evil. The scary devil and the loving God. As a child my physical and emotional world views were full of extreme things, extreme situations, extreme environments, extreme beliefs and extreme change. No grey areas. 

The first environmentally extreme change came between the ages of four and five.

I had been born in a Welsh farm cottage in the middle of a valley, the world was mine I would wander and roam the fields and woods unhindered, it was often said that if you couldn't fine Carwen she would be at the bottom of the lane sitting in the big puddle, or watching snails gliding across  the wet garden stones (a pastime that is still well loved today).  On a Wednesday my mum would drive us to a village playgroup and then to a market for food, food that would last till the following Wednesday. That was pretty much how life ticked over. Simple, calm, isolated at peace. Very few people were around for the first four years of my life.

Then my dad decided to build himself a house from scratch in the village. We moved from the cottage and I started to attend the local village school. Only having 14 pupils it was small, but I remember grappling the mixed feelings of overwhelm, unwanted confinement, people and restriction. I would wet myself almost daily and once soiled myself which led to being teased for the first time. I was frightened by the girl who was rumoured to have a witch as a mum and scared of the boys who found it funny to run at me and shout 'boo' in my face to make me cry. I can remember the panic of watching the window getting darker and darker,  thinking it was late but I wasn't in bed? (winter evenings).

Then as I reached four and half my dad decided to sell his business. 

He brought  a Peuoght 505 estate, we travelled the country saying good bye to people and moved  into the hub of church life in a busy five storey victorian house. The house was in yet another foreign world (the middle of Toxteth Liverpool). 

For a few months my sisters  and I were put into a school full of more kids than we had ever seen.

Dad packed up two containers with tractors, wood work machinery and the newly brought car.

We said more goodbyes and were prayed for and we got on a plane.

Overnight (the length of the plane journey) our worlds changed completely and utterly forever. We woke  to a world that we niether recognised and I never made peace with. We had landed in the newly independant Zimbabwe. We were going to be missionaries!

To be continued......

Trigger warning! The gates of Mordor.

Sometimes I shut my eyes and see myself stood at the foot of a towering black gate. Its menacing just by its presents. Like something out of Lord of the Rings. I can be in two places. 

Standing at the bottom of the gate marvelling at its great width. I stand alone, singular, in the dry dusty desert one hand feeling the warm of the wood. The sun has heated and weathered the rough oak timbers  over time. This is my entrance to Mordor.

Whistfuly I find myself hovering somehow now miles in the air and I look over the gate. On the other side is mayhem. Orcs everywhere, slimy, ugly, angry. On the other side is noisy and intent on a fight.

 I hate what I see, I can't distinguish the noise of all the rabble. They are whipped into frenzy by thier own encouragement, I am scared of them.

Back down again at the bottom of the gate my heart pumps. looking  at the doors they are  tall, wide, huge, strong. For them to hold and 'contain' is easy. I reach my hand out again and feel the tar stained hulks of timber.

Then I realise that when the inhabitants of that world are pumped enough, the gates with be opened. My wants will mean nothing. Just like the film they will creak open, lumbering outwards to release a torrent of destruction, reaction. I will not be able to breath through the fear, I will be trampled without ever having been seen.

So to be asked "why dont you just face your fears?", makes me run. To be asked "why do you drink?", makes me fold in shame. To be asked anything without the speakers understanding hurts, I must hide. I will hide , I want to protect myself. I know the logic, I know the reasons to the gate, but nothing ever prepares you for how the stampede 'feels'.

Feelings eradicate logic, eradicate 'being sensible', eradicate who you really want to be. Brain triggered frontal cortex lame and useless. We must protect we must survive. That great gate crashes in an instance, the Orcs are free.

Circles V springs. (tiny poem).

Sometimes it can feel you go round and round.

You hit the scenarios again and again, no ending to be found.

Round and round and round in circles trapped.

The same problems the same feelings The same crap.

No begin no ending, hang on a minute but what's that?

Time ticks on, moves you forward "oh I've been such a pratt!".

It was all a lie, a circle it never was, 

It was actually a spring

as time ticks forward; upward I cling.

Each time I face the same old same old. 

I face them anew!

With a days new safety in my belt and more knowledge like a welcome home brew.

don't forget the circles a lie!

It's in the spring of life you reside

Each time the same old problem comes around it's further up that coiled spring your bound.

You've moved another coil, 

meet the same old friend or foe.

Time can make the coils feel wide 

or squashed together 

But remember my friend in a circle you are not trapped! Not ever!....

 

Keep climbing. Keep moving.

December!!!!

Christmas month... Thought patterns...

November... Anticipation of December intense intense intense intense.....

December..... Try and plan intense intense intense....... Want to get it right..... Intense intense intense intense ......... Must not forget first lists made...... Intense intense intense.

Dates start flying around, dinners drinks, being social.... Put in coping plans for each as I would like to enjoy them.... Intense  intense intense intesnse......

Cloths for events, I can't wear my usual. New feelings, new fabrics.... Intense intense intense....

Loads of lights feed my overstimulated brain cells, loopy, loopable, looping songs.... EVERYWHERE!!!.... Intesnse intesnse intesnse......

You get my drift... Present buying, family, friends, receiving gifts, trees, wrapping paper, Sellotape, hiding presents, stockings, eating to much, drinking to much, being mum, being mate, being mrs....... Intesnse intense......

You make think I don't like Christmas but you would be wrong. I very much like the values of Christmas. I very much like spoiling and showing my family and friends how much I appreciate and love them.

(But the love in my belly is hard to interpret into anything tangible). Living in my head means, Christmas, in all it's wonderful colour is a little bit like being a driver in the grand pre taking a hair pin bend...

woooooooshhhh, pre plan anticipate, take in enviromental conditions, assess road surface, apply correct throttle and brake, keep an eye on the other drivers woooosh!!!!! go into the corner reassess all variables, take corner, assess again, power out!!!! Wooooosh... assess straight.... take in all variables ...... Speed ..... Road surface.... Throttle.................

Love you all appreciate you all very much and I'm excited to live 2015 with you all!!!! Merry Christmas.🌸🌸🌸

Connections

I often wonder why I write these blogs?

I wonder what the purpose really is?

Some have asked me "but that's all behind you, why drag it up?". Some consider me to be attention seeking and making trouble. The phrase 'let the past be the past' can leave you feeling weak and stupid.

Originally I wrote because I wanted to learn how to write. A magical thing began, a blessing. I began to learn the peace of connection, explaining and giving meaning.

You see its all well and good if your past is in the past but for me my past was / is very much in my present, I am going to write quickly now in case I end up in a muddle. 

Imagine your a maths professor. Now imagine there was a maths formula you could not understand. You mull it over in your mind and think about it day and night (sometimes even when you don't want to) it haunts you. You seek solution to the formula by chatting with others who may help you read and research similar maths problems. You keep going until you have found the solution and then you have peace because you understand and have meaning for the formula. That formula then gets filed under 'understood'. Occasionally you are even in the position of being able to help another understand the formula in a quicker way than it took you, you enjoy the victory of understanding by connecting to others who have also understood the formula and can talk with you about other maths issues.

Can't sleep

So I thought I would just make sure there was a reason to still be taking a sleep aid a night.

I find myself writing this in a catch twenty two, having not taken my little blue pill at the prescribed time of 9pm I potentially now will loose a whole  nights sleep!!!! Boooo!!!!!

Or, it only bring 1am I could take one it would kick in by 2am. As these little beauties last twelve hours, It would mean loosing half my day tomorrow. Or a the least being awake made of concrete.

That's a basic! The next issue is that my mind is free to play. Humph!!! And I am not alone.

 I have been fighting to try and stop going to the toilet every half an hour as one voice suggests 'your bladder is full'. Another had me obsessed with finding a song from zippy's computer, which I finally listened to by blue toothing it to the steroid in the kitchen.

 And No!!! I do not want to 'go on the exercise bike' till I'm exhausted!!!!! And No!!! I do not want to 'go and check if the fox is pooing outside!' 

I feel resigned can I cope with seven more hours of this. This which will only get weirder and more intense. Why oh why did I not take the pill. Oh yes I remember know because 'what if I'm ok now! What if I'm better! What if people found out! I relyed on pill induced sleep. I am ashamed. Surly I should be better than this!

I fight to make sure I am not just feeling another's pain interceding on some poor disempowered behalf, and so have send emails and texts to make sure everyone is fine. Now paranoid I have to cope with the possibility I woke them all up.

My ears are ringing and banging. Do you know what, writing this has helped. 

Instead of me working up to waking zippy up in another two hours (probably in floods of tears) asking, 'what I should do?', my head is full of people and banging and ringing and suggestive voices!! (Poor zippy,humph!!) and him asking, 'why didn't u take your pill?'.

I choice the blue pill!!!! 

Triggered and overwhelmed.

Overwhelm is a funny thing. Everything is exaggerated, every sense on full and above full. 

Sounds hurt, they are to loud. Crisp packets and ice cream wrappers thunder. Metal gates are as loud as shotgun bullets, crunching shoes on pavements can seem as if the very ground they were built on may crack.

Whispering becomes loud talking, talking becomes shouting, and shouting makes you want to curl up in protective ball.(overwhelmed).

Switching regulating emotional states in any appropriate way seem impossible, far to hurried. It's as if you need everything to go into slow motion to understand or comprehen. 

So standing there shaking the world of touch, taste, sound, reaction, vision all in Incredible Hulk mode! What and earth do you do!

Nothing that's what! ABSOLUTLY nothing! There is another element to this crazed sensitive state of overwhelm and that is the world of paranoia. If the world outside your door is dangerous, if your head is telling you that no one is trust worthily, that everyone will try to kill you, that you are separated, that isolation shut down is the only option. That no one will understand and so you must never rely on anything. What do you do?

Now I could give a text book reply here or I could give you the truth. As I have never been one for being fake I'll give you the honest truth. You sleep, lift your heavy body to do the bare minimum and sleep more! Gradually you become hungry, you try to eat well, and you sleep. Slowly each time you have enough courage to push the boundaries of the paranoid voices and heightened senses they become manageable. 

When you feel safe enough you start to re establish contact with the outside. A trip to the shop a text. You then sleep heavy exhausted day and night, a five minute conversation can be a marathon, and you sleep. 

Safety creeps further into all the damaged pain, meaning returns, thoughts return. People in a non threatening perspective return. You test the waters to look for truth. Eventually a wobbly corner is turned,

you carry on.

A simple mess.

Sometimes things build up and get overwhelming; the flat crusts up as if it were a piece of metal rusting in the rain (wet cold and unyielding).

The ability to deal with the rusty crust and to know how much effort it's going to take to sand it back to to metal stops me in my tracks (fear creeps in I gulp it down and look again). I know what it needs. 

You need to fill the dents and prime it up. Give it a first thin coat so it doesn't show a drip and then a second (possibly a final third coat) so it ends finished  in a lustrous deep colour of white.

Ah yes! when the flat creeps into a concentrated mess of layers and sub layers. The easy thing to do would be to sit paralysed  and unable to take your finger out of the dyke for fear of drowning. 

Boldly I learned one day from a friend the following: Go into the mess and pick one thing up. Ask yourself "were does this belong?" Take the item and put it away, if it had no 'home' then make it one. 

The dreaded silent gap

So what I would like to tackle today is what I call the dreaded gap.

As you know, change is not something I adapt to easily and this morning was a classic example.

Over the weekend we had left our car at the office and borrowed the mini bus to help with a children's party on the Saturday.

Monday morning, this morning, Zippy reminded me again that we would drive the kids to school in the mini bus (not the car) . I was greatful for the warning of difference as I had again forgotten the change. His warning meant a softer landing on its encounter.

Remembering

31/1/14

Today I am exhausted and I can't take in any more! A friend once described it as your head being like a bucket with water in it and sometimes theres to much water and the water starts to flow over.

That's where I'm at I think and my bucket has had ten taps on full..... maybe theres not even a bucket or maybe I'm an exploded fire hydrant water uncontrollably everywhere?

So where am I?  In bed trying to calm down and trying to cope with what I've heard, what I'm hearing and what I will hear .

My body is still but  heavy. I'm stuck to my mattress made of concrete.  I'm aware of what feels like bubbling under my skin and tingling. Every now and then  a limb, or over a part of me, will experience a shot of fizzing (inside the bubbles) like Champagne  being poured in a glass.

This is not an unpleasant thing I experience and I used to have it daily. It's a type of paralysis; a deep meditative place thats calm and safe. 

Apart from ringing in my ears,  it's quiet and my mind slows to just filtering suggestions and voices in a way thats singular rather that eight or nine.  Eight or nine conversations  I  can't quite grapple with and one conversation with ringing is the safest quietest place I get.

More movement please!!!

I get stuck in positions that are physically uncomfortable but it takes me ages to realise I am physically frozen and then move.

For example:

Like being sat in a chair with an outside door open making me cold.  I want to move and shut the door (adding to the situation that I'm hungry and thirsty). The thought of getting a cup to my mouth off a table that's so easily in reach - I stare at the cup willing it to fly to me but know you need to bend, move your arm, and pick it up. 

Uncrossing my legs, because my leg is going numb or my ankle is bent and uncomfortable way, I lean over the sink and drain vegetables whilst my feet are still planted by the cooker.  I remind myself, as I realise my back is twisted and mildly hurting, thinking "move your feet, make yourself straight in front of the sink, pivots and loads! pivots and loads! & remember pivots and loads!" 

Help! I want to leave Tesco but its hard!

Help I want to leave tesco but I can't.

This whole subject of food shopping has reared its head at various points over the years.

It started with colour, now what on earth might colour have to do with it you say?

 To me there are certain colours that do not work along side edible food stuffs. When the combinations of certain colours and food are seen together, I struggle to eat as they seem dangerous. Here are my top five in order of food / colour 'can go together' list.

Finally being able to explain

I can write this now because since going on pills instead of being swallowed into blackness, which is undefinable, I seem to be able to still think instead of being engulfed into my body.

 This is the first time in my life I have ever felt enough logic to be able to describe any of it. As my confidence grows, I learn I will not be swallowed into silence which takes days to get out of. But now I am able from a distance to  put words to it / them / us / me.

The speed at which new subjects or voices come and go are to quick to explain or hold, most are paranoid and threatening 'if u don't do this this that will happen' (driven by panic some will get stuck and reoccur).   'She walked from Leeds to Chester' repeated over and over in a sing song rhyming way or 'Rose will die if u don't say what's in your minds eye'.

 These thoughts will mercilessly haunt me until absorption somewhere else is found or I put music into my ears. 

   Some times, if too many physical places are visited in the day then the present place becomes the whole day and everything else is like yesterday. So although today I have been to Tesco, dropped kids at school, dropped Zippy at work, been at home, and cleaned the computer desk; each of these moments I struggle to recall because I'm on a dog walk.

Wading through suggestions and voices consumed, although now I have remembered each episode so as to write this, they seem so unreal, as if they may not have happened. Remembering putting them in sequence is exhausting as it means going back in thought a million thoughts previously.

 For example the thought of Rose killing herself unless I text Primrose, this I put down to me being hungry this morning. But even now as I've written it I have awakened it again, and now know it will have to be processed and gone through all or got over again.

   How wil I process this I don't want to face it all again I don't have time. I will do it by picking kids up from school, a physical state change that will mean I forget all this. It will become yesterday and I will be shocked if I remember to read this note so much in one day in one hour.  

It's the  crippling realisation that it's been so hard to try and explain, This evil twin/intrusions have kept me from communicating.

  It's a bit like trying to explain an all consuming explosion. But only being given a split second of that explosion to do it in, before it rumbles it's  way into the physical, resulting in body shock. Brain rendered useless and void. 

  A state change, or safe bedroom and routine are the only way to try and keep going, calm down. This maintenance in its self is exhausting and constant.....Apologies I circle...

 I rely on my clothes for comfort they don't change. 

Smiling as I write and reread this I wonder what more words will be put to use, to explain what's always seemed impossible.