I’m sick. Not contagious, catchable sick, but it is sick. I can feel myself swimming almost to the point of passing out. Dreams. No sleep. This is an ugly place.

But I work today; 9:30 and hour or two from now I’ll be on my way. I told myself I will make art. A collage of images creating form. Structure and the like. Articulating.

I’m shaking. I hope I make it today. Tonight, I will go to bed early. Miss my class. Let myself pass out. Hopefully not wake in the night again. That’s what I did last night. Asleep by 8pm and awake at 10pm to watch people talk, a reading mostly. Interesting.

Maybe they’ll let me start early, 9am leave early. It isn’t much.

This place scares me. My head swimming from exhaustion and chocolate. Did I mention the chocolate? Punishment I bought. I know it’s not reward. It isn’t even help. I did eat supper, a can of stew. I’m still in the place where eating is off. How many years has it been? No words. No words. I need to move, relax myself. And forget the rest, how walking soothed abuse. One pattern, then the next. Changing pace, changing steps, changing direction I walked, the side of the road. Little distractions, then sleeping at the church. Because it was quiet, because it was safe. I had the key from three different groups, and well still used benches rather than chairs. I could lay down unseen on the hard wood surface, curl into myself. An hour, maybe two, sometimes three if middle of the day and kids not coming or going to school.

I’d sleep on the floor, on the steps at the front. Same deal, same idea. Out of sight, out of mind.

Writing this shakes. Shakes aren’t allowed.

Articulation is hard, both verbal and movement. Pushing words past my teeth, over tongue, out of lungs. Not easy at times. And still, they may or may not articulate. I stretch when I can. Sometimes I can’t; not allowed say my words, unspoken but heard. Not aloud.

What will I make? What will I draw. Frames and framing and framing the frames. Too silly by far. I am silly, I think. To move’s what I need. Get up and go. If I lay out paper and glue and magazines and scissors, will I do it when home? Will I make the scene?

I need to do it for my own good. I built a YouTube channel and three short talks, so I’m thinking of topics and words and ways, things we frame, what we think, how we think and how we frame it in telling and retelling. So I want to create, images, thoughts. Something to stare at when I talk to the screen. Or I talk to the people I talk to there. Articulate thoughts in better timing and better shape, better frame and frame of mind.

Articulate.

I’m two and half days past physio this time. Edging along. Moving to pain.

Get up, go to work, get food, go to sleep. Repeat and repeat. Oh, and write out more words. Almost 2,000 in the memoir yesterday. Borrowed and created from pages of thoughts. If I don’t muck this up and can get them to form, I may have a book. I have people to read. People are important in so many ways.

Falling back asleep if I sit here too long. Getting dressed, getting coat on, getting boots, getting gone.

I’m a mess, but I’m learning, what I fear, what I don’t. What I fear until I do it. What I will do regardless of fear. Apparently a lot. So I’ll share a little listening for those who don’t yet know, and I’ll think of what it looks like now and as I go. Mixing in the people from wide connections and wider space. Articulating as carefully as I can, as honestly as I can, as politely and with grace. I hope all of that is true and that it comes through in what I say. 

Let me know what you think. If you like, you can follow. It may be a mishmash.

I will write and may share little pieces and thoughts. It’s a challenge to myself to express things I love, things I hate, things that scare me, things I avoid. It’s one tactic I use when I’m struggling to move on – extend the road, redraw the line, increase the time and journey but take a step. I hope this works.

And I’m sorry to the people who think I’m naturally brave. I’m not. I just fake it and keep going. Sometimes it costs me sleep and dreams I’d rather not have then I face myself and the world and keep moving. It’s uncomfortable, you may not like the journey so feel free to opt out. If you hang in there, I’ll try to engage, but I overload at times, quite frequently in fact.

My thanks to those who love me regardless of the mess.

I am slowly building life around me. And I’m glad.