No Lonely Days Here

I write about the things I know. I write often about personal growth, positive perspective, my sons, my family, and yes, I write about having been raped. The good and the downright ugly all have a part to play, and I cannot discount or ignore any of it simply because it may be an uncomfortable read for someone who happens upon my blog. This is who I am, the parts that make up the sum of me. Not all of it is inspiring, some of it is a bit trivial, but it is always genuine.

There are days, more than I'd like, where I find it trying to put my thoughts into words. Not because I cannot find the words to convey what is on my mind, but because I cannot choose how best to say it. I would say that this is the opposite of writer's block, it is more like writer's overload. The ideas come at far too quick a rate to focus and transfer to the screen before the next thought muscles through for attention.

Today is a prime example. I currently have seven tabs open in my browser, two of which I have active writing going on in. I also have my writing program open and waiting for me to type out more within the confines of the composition screen, and I'm weaving actual 'day-job' work in between. An insane amount of thoughts bouncing about, waiting to be pulled from my head and made real for gracing a page on a screen. Sprinkle a bit of housework, conversation and web surfing in and this is the chaos that is making up my day. I know this is not the best way to generate quality work, but sometimes I just have little control over myself.

I sometimes wish I could sort thoughts the way a coin sorter sorts through quarters, nickels, dimes and pennies. I wouldn't lose track of something I wanted to delve deeper into, and I'd be able to sit through an entire effort solely for the purpose of that ONE idea. How amazing would that be?

Alas, that is just a dream and I am rooted to the reality that my thoughts know no organization, nor do they wait patiently while I work my way through their compatriots.

I have an idea, maybe I'll try it just to see if it works out the way I imagine. Each and every time I stray from this page (either by clicking on another tab, looking at my phone, or getting up for all variety of reasons) I'm going to insert [narrative]. If only to serve as proof to myself of how often I leave my streams of thought for something else. I can't imagine that would be tolerable to read.

Nearly always preoccupied, so after a lifetime of being this way, wouldn't it make sense to have developed a system — a way to cope and still be productive? Maybe consistently managing to work through the chaos is my system. Yes, this seems rather a more likely scenario given that I do manage to write here daily in addition to all the other things I do.

One thing is for certain: I won't ever be driven crazy by the silence in my head. There is a comfort in never being alone when it's just me and my thoughts.