Thoughts

Hello Lovelies! Just wanted to share an insight I've had into myself. I continually surprise myself with my clarity of thought. And not because things even SOUND all that good in my head. Or even coherent! Indeed, quite often the thoughts in my head are the opposite of coherent, which i would say is "adherent," but to use that word in reference to thoughts seems a bit more insane than I WANT to sound at the moment:) Here me out: sometimes I write my thoughts down--advice I've given, insights I've had into a situation, and they SOUND completely fragmented and disjointed in my head. I feel like I'm just babbling ideas into the air. Then, when I go back and look at them with fresh eyes and a little objectivity, they're magically crystalline and clear. Sometimes even poetic. And it WASN'T intentional! What do you suppose that means? I think we can rule out the possibility I should become a speaker or a member of the press. But what OTHER direction should I take? It's really maddening at this point, 'cause I find the fractured thoughts of my discombobulated mind seem to be complicating my thought process more than it needs to be. I overthink EVERYTHING, and take in way too much sensory information at a time. In my teens (those turbulent times) I was briefly prescribed Fluvox to get my thoughts in order/make me more organized. I'm so glad this wasn't a prolonged thing, 'cause my disorganization of thought then was NOTHING compared to what it sometimes feels like now! Not that I really mind. It takes me longer to fall asleep; that's about the extent of the inconvenience. On the other hand, without my even trying, it seems I've become wiser AND more eloquent--entirely by accident. As my mind races through the ideas expressed in this entry, I remember my friends both close by and far away (the ones who come to mind are men) stricken with invisible disabilities that make their lives more difficult just by making them THINK differently. And I do feel sorry for them. Though I would argue an invisible disability at least doesn't carry with it the stigma of (gasp) "looking different." Just today on my way to the library, I paused for 30 seconds on the sidewalk to gather myself behind my walker. In truth, my sock was slipping inside of my boot and it was annoying the heck out of me, so I had to take a minute to cool off. And some guy walks up from the opposite direction to ask if I'm okay. Good Lord. Give me strength. I know it's not inherently a "bad" question. The question itself denotes concern. But there it is: WHY should he be concerned? WHY does "looking different" cause concern? And furthermore, why do some differences cause far more concern than others? And why aren't people aware that all the stress of having to keep up the appearance of being just like everyone else and not "messing up" by being ourselves is likely to give the physically disabled a lot more heart trouble in the future?! I guess the answer is that I can't help their "concern." Of course int he heat of the moment today I just stared at the guy and shot back "why wouldn't I be?" And he, as I thought he would, replied "I'm just askin'. I care, that's why I'm askin'." If that's really true, I can't deny that it's sweet. But the jaded city denizen in me reasons that he doesn't CARE, really. Not in the way that he wants me to think. He thinks I'm stupid enough to give him charity for his "concern," or for any small act he MIGHT do if I said I wasn't okay. This is the world I'm living in now that I've been stuck in this city for four years. Somebody's always up to something, everybody's got an angle, nothing is free on the street. So...what? I'm never ever supposed to slow down? Never EVER supposed to just catch my breath? For what? For the sake of OTHER'S comfort level? No. What I should have said is "of course I'm okay. I'm just taking a rest. But thank you for asking," and left it at that. Kill him with kindness, as they say, though I dislike that expression as well. It makes kindness sound violent. Maybe all of these disjointed thoughts racing through my head show up on my face--and the faces of my similarly "disabled" friends. Which really, I think, means we don't HAVE a disability. We don't have a "disorder" or an "affliction." We are different. And isn't that the point of life? It's why we don't all look the same, move the same, express ourselves the same. We are not supposed to be. There is no ONE way. And no ONE look. And anyone who thinks there IS...at this point...is the one with something really wrong about them. They have gone psychologically blind.