I’ve been in denial my whole life.
I’m a forgetful being. I’ve found other people who are forgetful REALLY annoying because… darn it… I’ve seen myself in them but DENIAL!
I literally can think something in the morning and it’s bloody brilliant. Like the BEST idea I’ve ever had.
‘This is so fudging good, I’ll get cracking on this later’…
‘What was I doing this morning? Is that the time? Now what? What was I doing yesterday at at this time?’
And so continues my life.
Am I alone in this? No, appears not. And it took an ADHD ‘diagnosis’ to delve into what this meant and literally ALL the struggles common with ADHDers.
And I thought I was different! Yet I didn’t wanna be different, at the same time I was also ‘no one else thinks like me, I’m the ONLY one who understands’. And in that victim mode I could get really annoyed at people for living in their chaos because, ya know, I was different. I was controlled. I didn’t forget anything, I just had a unique way of not remembering things.
And I am unique. Just not so flipping up my own arse to think my chaos isn’t spilling out, because it is and was. And I care less now, kinda. But it took some therapist to say ‘yes, you’re combined ADHD’ for the permission to be more me.
And that’s sad, and shows a lot about the society we live in and how I’ve adapted my tribal brain to want to ‘fit’ by being less me and more ‘them’ (whoever the hell them is!).
I’m forgetful. Totally and utterly forgetful. And I gotta write stuff down in order to get shit done. I’m learning more about my chaotic self. Just the way God made me. Thank you God!
I don’t actually have anything inspiring to say here. I rarely have anything inspiring to say. Maybe I think that I’m not inspiring and those who know me would disagree. They may think me the most inspiring person yet fail to express this as how often do we say to people ‘you really inspire me’.
I don’t. As I write this I wish did. I think I will. I think I’ll make this part of my interaction dictionary…
“you’re incredibly inspiring”
Who would I tell?
Honestly? every one I guess. Who hasn’t inspired me. Even the person who I find annoying as hell has inspired me in many ways (and the whole ‘you can see in others the qualities you have yourself’… grrr, isn’t that a game-changer!)
So, Tuesday inspiration to myself is go and tell someone they’re fucking amazing!
Oh and bees inspire me daily… I drew a pic of just how much. You’re welcome.
Diving deep, what does Love even mean?
So, this Love word pops up EVERYWHERE.
All you need is Love. God is Love. Return to Love. We are Love. Love is our eternal being. I LOVE you.
And I love the word Love but what am I loving? The concept of love is super appealing, isn’t it. That we are beings radiating an energy that EVERY ONE is aspiring to feel or to be. That when we Love, it’s smooth. It’s a ride we’ve been lining up for our whole lives. We spend time, money, effort, we dedicate ourselves, often without conscious thought to this concept of Love and being in it or being it.
WHAT IS IT? Because I’m betting it means something for you that it doesn’t for me. And the feeling of it when we meet someone and we say those words, I love you, that’s tangible, isn’t it. It’s almost something we can touch and taste and the feeling is beyond overwhelming. Love songs and romcoms and poetry, we mostly resonate with the attraction thing. Lust, right. It gets in the way, or it is the way. I dunno but I fucking love lusting. I also know it’s not what we’re taught in spiritual teachings Love to be.
God is Love. Now, that’s not so tangible. And ALL the Love references in New Age stuff and quotes that float the internet like feathers in the breeze. That’s muddier. I get it, unconditional love. Really though, have we EVER loved unconditionally? Is it an unattainable concept… and is that the point, make it totally unattainable for the human and they’ll spend their whole lives feeling crap as they’re never quite getting ‘there’. Talk about guilt. Not just a catholic thing, huh.
And to not love things, material stuff as much as you love an idea, a concept, well they both feel as empty as each other if I’m honest.
So, what does Love mean?
Is it so fluid that it’s not meant to mean any more than it means to you in the moment you’re feeling it. And is it an expression, a momentary need, like when we graze ourselves and we scab. Love is the scabbing, the protection as cells come together and heal.
Love heals. We’re not in states of Love all the time. I can get so flipping angry some days and that’s bloody healing too. Anger heals. Imagine that. To not be afraid of anger, to see it as vital as Love. Is Love conditioning as we’re less likely to lash out. Less likely to disrupt others. To question. Oh, to question. Love is blind.
Humans have created the word Love. And like everything we create, it’s open to interpretation. I’ve Loved so hard I would fight for it. I’ve Loved so hard I would crack and die a little if I didn’t have it anymore. And I have. So, maybe Love is the container with ALL the other emotions. Or maybe Love is whatever the fuck you want it to be.
I think letting go of something you created is the importance of creating it in the first place.
That you’re not creating something to keep hold of it, you’re creating something because if you don’t, you’ll go a little loopy. Just me?? Ok then.
There’s this sense that when you put your ‘heart and soul’ into something, you have to have something to show for it. Like nothing is worth doing unless you get something back. That you’re only as worthy as what you can essentially get back for what you share with others.
And us humans have skills! We’re innovative, we’re artist, we like numbers and structure and symmetry and enjoy working within those fields of thought. We want to be seen, like stars in the sky. We want to feel like we’re moving things, like water moves driftwood. We’re attracted to colour and want to show off, like a peacock struts his intricately designed tail. We’re all things natural and Earthly, but there can be a thought pattern that makes you feel you’re not worthy on this planet unless you’re being paid to be part of it. This makes total sense in my head 🙂
My mental and physical sickness comes in waves, and when I feel totally off and my body aches and I can’t think about anything other than how much I’m hating on myself for not being ‘that’ woman who keeps her house and mind and nails tidy and smooth… when I’m on that rock, I have to create. This could be writing, drawing, cooking, singing (alone) or talking to myself like I’m in a film… I truly think my sanity depends on my ‘madness’.
And then once something is created, I have to let it go. Otherwise it all becomes like a smelly pond, and I add more and more until it spills out, wets my feet and I become a damp mess!
And that’s why blogging is so great!
I mean, I’m new to this game and know nothing about how to blog, I picked the simplest layout I could find and tadah! (there’s no way I’ll use this platform to its maximum potential as I just want to write stuff, press publish and be on my way).
It’s the Publish option I love, like I’m writing my own mini novel, every entry. That once I’ve written something, there’s a button that pretty much says ‘and now I’m complete, thank you and goodbye.’
I don’t have to keep it sitting in a folder on my laptop (which I have plenty of, full of unread poems and short stories, I feel I’m hoarding words!)
I’ve been thinking about the whole copyright thing, that if I am thinking something, I can guarantee that someone, somewhere is thinking the same thing. I am not original enough or special to think that I am the only one who has thought a certain idea or created something so specific that it only does and can belong to me. To think that ideas belong to you is like thinking that when you breathe, the outbreath is your piece of air, that any residue inhaled by another is stealing.
I mean, I don’t think we own anything but I don’t want to get too deep 600 words in. I will say that I believe the concept of owning something or someone is one of the biggest illusions us humans hold so tightly onto and creates a whole world of pain.
Death seems to creep into all avenues of our life, and this, what I’m writing right now, is a fleeting thought. I’ll soon press the Publish button and tomorrow, I’ll have something new bubbling up… and now I’m thinking too much about this entry and should I press publish, or delete?!
And now I’m complete, thank you and goodbye.