I have been writing again. Which means my brain has emerged a little dazed from the whirlwind of the past couple of months. In November I had a solo show here in the UK. You can see more here. Then birthday and then Christmas.
It’s also my diagnosis anniversary in the next few days. I was reminded by this post.
My diagnosis story is, sadly, not too uncommon. Unexpected bombshell, dubiously communicated with little or no support provided thereafter. Help and advice was self sourced and since then I have built my own ragbag support network. IMPORTANT: ragbag here is referring to the architecture of my safety net rather than its noble constituents. My life changed. I had another child (so I have 2 now) I left work, I left my mind (for a bit), I finally left my unhappy marriage (carpe diem) and I started out again. Tax advisor to artist, writer, poet. Hard work but worth it.
All of which leads me here. To this post. To this word. All lines lead to this one point. A singularity in a life of overload, background static, to do lists, bullet points, responsibilities, obligations, noise. Here we stand, alone, in a pure white room. I am a magpie, I am so easily distracted by the shiny things in life. And yet, as I contemplate this emptiness I am attracted to it in such( a deep way. This longing for simplicity could, I suppose, be a response to the ironically ever increasing volume of those decluttering/minimising influencers. Stacey Solomon anyone? But I suspect it is also a result of my encroaching PD.
Let my explain. PD obviously affects your brain. It therefore has motor and non motor effects. One of the hardest ones to handle is, for me, the loss of executive functioning power. That is, the ability to multitask and as part of that, multi think. I live in an almost constant state of overwhelm. It is exhausting most days. I find that dealing with the boys’ news, problems and homework when combined with the latest book I’m reading, social media, the ideas that constantly pop into my artists’ mind, cooking supper and the doorbell ringing can just leave me almost weeping with frustration and fatigue. Add to that the physical impact of PD and of course it’s a lot harder now than 16 years ago.
Meditation helps. So does swimming, walking, painting, stitching and listening to music. And dreaming of white walls. Which brings me back to my writing.
I started my blog, Stitch This, not long after I had my second son. He’s almost 14 now. The blog has waxed and waned but it persists and it is a massive support for me as I go through life. I’d love it if you had a look and let me know your thoughts. I love a chat. But I also am learning to seek out silence as an antidote to my dopamine deficit. So if you are too busy to click and/or comment don’t stress. I’m all white about it (!)