On and off again 

Saturday I sacrificed my energy, my creativity and my pain free day on the alter of good mom-hood. I took my kids to the pool. Which involved me staying 2 feet from my 3 year old and 5 feet from my 8 year old at all times. It was far more exhausting than I expected. I spent the rest of the day watching mindless TV, too tired to even fidget. 

The last two days have been an odd mix of brain dead and inspired. At dinner last night I stumbled over my words and my sentences were word salad but I wrote a brilliant scene for my screenplay immediately after. I wrote the above paragraph and then spent 5 minutes staring dazedly at the screen, my mind a complete blank. 

I feel like my mind is a dryer, in the cycle where it keeps clothes from getting wrinkled. It spins with brilliant activity and creativity and then suddenly, randomly and without warning, everything stops and is still and lifeless. 

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Explanation of a life

I have been questioning what it is I’m doing here on a blog for the last couple of days. 

What started as an outlet for my (usually) ever changing moods due to my rapid cycling bipolar disorder has become a mishmash of me talking about my life, my pain and my writing. 

Am I allowed to have a blog that doesn’t have a one track mind? 

I just read a blog post by Alex Press (I’d reblog it but I’m not sure the proper etiquette and lack the know how at the moment)  so I’ll just put the link here

It was written by a woman who is sick, like me, with migraines and and brain damage and heart issues (oh my), like me. She also writes despite these things, like me. 

She’s an inspiration and I love following her blog. 

So thinking about what it is I’m here to do, what it is I’m hear to say, it came to me again. 

I’m here to explain myself, to myself and to others who might be interested in understanding or learning about what it’s like to live in my shoes. 

I’m here to give my life structure and form, instead of living everyday without some sort of record of the life I’m living.

 To put myself, my life, my mind, and my atheist stand in for a soul into words. To sum up my life. So I can give it further value than it currently has. 

Explaining is not complaining. 

Sometimes when the pain is too much, when the act of writing about myself seems too presumptuous and narcissistic, I wonder to myself, am I just here to complain about this life that I have? 

Today, I think not. I am still explaining to the world who I am. I can write about my pain without it being a whimper.

 And if on occasion, a whimper is all I have, I accept that as a part of who I am.