I say that writting helps with my Dyslexia. Yet it has became more then that. Over the past three years has been the hardest part if my life to date. My writting has been my platform to talk about these taboo subjects. Like death. I know my books are a lot about dying and being reborn. I wrote those sections in ignorance when I didn't understand.
My more recent experiences are best placed in the newer books. When I have learned what grief is and how hard it is.
I have learned to talk. I am a open hearted person. I can say that I have saved lives, because I see that they have families now. I have been there in the darkness. I know others out there who had that moments like me. I am happy that things are better, even if it is a pandemic.
I have also lost a lot of people who I love. I couldn't be there to hear them. I couldn't help with the funeral arrangements. I still can't be any help of those sorting it still.
My words will never get through to the one person that was destroyed most by it. Not that she is the only one with a empty hole in the heart. I just wished she could see what she is doing to rest of the family isn't helping. But it's how life is when the mind starts being taken by dementia. I know. I understand both sides.
I became a full time career for a short time. Someone close to me fell down the stairs. Shattered their ankle. I spent a whole Christmas praying that they have the surgery they needed to come home. I spent that same Christmas greiving the loss of someone else that meant something to us. Now that the person with the metal in the leg is home, it's been 2 years, I am still that career at times. I am not upset about it. I am not angry. It's really only recently that I have started accepting this.
I have lost my first job, a zero hour contract as a community career. I was helping people of a whole ranges of health issues. I was helping them with basic life needs while still giving them the independence. It was killing me. For as much empathy I have towards those I looked after and thier families. I wasn't able to look after myself. I was falling into a darker and darker place during the job. I quiet before the job consumed me.
In the past year only that I got a new job and had stresses about not having a new job in the short contract. I am glad to report that I am a stable place. I am now a smile at the check out of some health and beauty retail store. I work with lovely people. I am happier. It has rescued me.
Since I started posting online, this was all the things that got in the way of being so active.
I have been a writer since the age of 11. I have many weird and fantastic stories. Discovering them again as been bringing back memories that hurt in ways I didn't have at the time. Sometimes my younger self would write things that are hard to edit now. Ignorance is bliss.
But as I read them again, I find this whole universe I have been making all that time ago. It seems about time it was given light out of the dusty box I stack those notebooks in. Yeah, before I had a computer. I would hand write these stories. Thanks to my parents that gave me a laptop for my 18th.
So the long story short. Is that I have never given up. All these obstacles are just that. Obstacles for me to jump, slide or fly over.
I hope my strangeness and strength can help someone else.
To accept any learning difficulties and be the person they have always been.
I will do my best to keep a smile. I will be the best version of myself each day. Ask if you would like a bag with your purchase.
And in all sincerely, at my very heart.
I hope you have a fantastic day.