My Diary place

Conflict post – this feels close to too personal *warning ramblings*
I have been trying to write this for some time, but to be honest the details of the conflict within me is somewhat difficult to explain. I do have an example, I found my notes for Air Florida flight 90 within it a man stated that he was going to make sure the person he was travelling got out of the plane before he left. Doing so made the risks to his life greater. I do not memorise air crash reports anymore (not really allowed to although I have no problems with planes). It did make me think, though, if there was a choice and I could help mommy get out of the plane I would ignore the risk and do it. But if mommy took that risk I would be really mad at her. I guess because I know how strong and brave she is but there is no way I could ever live without her. After I found it, I had started crying because this was in my brain I gave my notes to mommy so she could get rid of it.

So perhaps this speaks to the irrational fear of losing mommy and that fact that I feel I let her down. I will have my doctorate now, thank you. The feelings of guilt I know are also irrational [in part], but dismissing them does not feel right. They are a part of me and to be me they have to be there, at least for now. We have grown closer over the last year or so. The most difficult thing is I do not know the end of thought [s]. So I would like to talk to mommy about some things in order for me to make sense of it, something along those lines, it does not help that my emotions are all mixed up. I am more than aware that trying to use mommy to help the interconnecting but misconnecting aspects of memory, emotion and thought have real consequences. Alongside feeling the need to defend, it causes her sadness and bright flashes of anger, but that is not directed at me. This to me is [Chopin] 24 preludes, o.28. No. 4 in E minor, hesitant, slow, carefully played, sombre.

Part of the conflict is that I miss daddy of course, but that missing him comes out as sadness and I am not sure how to deal with that. I have been trying to talk/draw/colour about it in therapy, but there is something of disgust at myself, sometimes at him. I am not all that sure how to handle those emotions either, it is only made more difficult, by things that hide in shadows or what is worse, two thoughts intertwined that should never be so. It does not make sense. This to me is [Debussy] Suite Bergamasque, L 75: III. Chair de lune, simple, disgusting, unordered. It is two pieces are being played separately and the result is just wrong. Makes me want to kick something. Blaah.

There is one thing I know for sure, everything that has existed or can exist has been expressed by the works of Hans Zimmer, James Newton Howard, all musicals or has ever been played by the City of Prague Philharmonic (which lets be honest is the best orchestra ever). So in order for me to move from this position to the next, I need to find something, a thing that can express me. Something that spares me loneliness in feeling that I do, but it has to be strongly regulated. No cascades that bring it to an unknowable crisis, which can, by suddenness be resolved with beauty. Neither can be boisterous brass, tortured strings brought together by a clumsy array of ideas. Ah, I hear the shouts, at last harmony between dichotomies and no talk of grandeur- yeppers I know I sometimes over express things. I have decided that this can and should be, at least for now, what my soul requires. ‘Where My Heart Will Take Me. Of course, played by the Prague Philharmonic to soften those American edges. At last hope.

My Easter Weekend
Well, things are still weird because, well daddy would be the one who I would tell everything to, that does not happen anymore for reasons that might be clear from where this is posted. I have a lovely family and my sister. Also, I have friends, but it does not take long before they become part of my family, although mommy is the boss apart from her boss, which is [gru]mama or grandmamma who is the boss of everyone. So the last few days have been really good and I think yesterday after being so distracted by everything I went back into my head and then got grumpy, sad or a mixture of different negative emotions. Kind of forgot how to deal with them so, mommy and me were going to go see a music thing at mommys school but we stayed in. We watched Belle and the Beast again. Then we talked about a few things, including about me seeing daddy. It would be safe, but I think that mommy is correct when she says it would not be a good idea [not that I will admit that]. I still have not read the letter daddy sent me, not sure where mommy put it. So this brings me to some bad news, kind of, my sister and brother are coming here for about a week and a half in a few weeks. It is not really bad news, me and my sister have a complex if not difficult relationship but she is really bossy being the bad part. Nonetheless, she knows me. So I have already emailed her to see if she is going to see daddy. Then we talked via email but she said when she gets there we can talk because… just to let you know started crying now… she knows me in a weird way, that weird way that she will know what the next million thoughts I will have before I even know the first one. She is like mommy, clever, loving, bossy and it has always felt I was different, not like that [well bossy sometimes maybe]. By the way I have a daddys last name which did not bother me until he went away. Then I was scared mommy was going to go away, this was an irrational thing. But both mommy and me were born in the same city and Kite said my belly button was a reminder that once we were connected which I liked. So Izzy is now the person who gets to decide things about daddy, like going to see him and also deciding the emotions. She said that she would take the job for me. Anyway, most of yesterday mommy and me practiced making cakes which was fun but not completely successful. If I gave you one of the cupcakes you would want to give it back.

So Easter weekend, on Thursday afternoon and Friday it was Easter time at the Zoo. T. G. and me had our faces painted. I was a tiger of course, because then if you displeased me, I could growl at you. It did not work with Molly; she is still in charge, but then I think she sees me as a silly human. We also did Cookie painting and other stuff like make masks which was also fun. The good thing of it being at the zoo is you can get to see the animals and make sure they are ok; it is so cold here, but they have indoor houses to go and they still pop out when they need their walkies or equivalent. Of course the Easter egg hunt as well, which was fun because they were plastic eggs throughout the zoo so you had to find one of each colour and if you found all of yours, then help other people find them if they wanted some help. You get chocolate at the end, but they use plastic eggs in case the monkeys get them. Monkeys love chocolate and they do not share at all. Then me, mommy, T. and her mommy and daddy went to dinner on Friday – no shoes were allowed

On Saturday, the mommy and me went swimming which I like. Then I did something which might make me sound like a geek but it is a game or simulation of flying a plane. I have to annoy my bestest friend brother to let me play, he gives in very easily. Still, annoying people is an art form within itself and I am one of the best at it. So @rarelyCharlie because I talked about it. OK, so I have for about 8 months or so been practicing my flying skills, but landings have been less than successful. I tend to crash somewhere near the runway. This time I safely put the bird on the tarmac as we pilots say. It was not perfect, but I did not kill any simulated lives this time. I used the VOR lock, part of the autopilot and also the autothrottle until quite late into the landing. Also, I armed the spoiler but it failed, I did not notice until the I got to the gate. I wondered why it took so long to stop, but it was raining. I love the technical/protocol nature in which planes operate, in particular the 737-800 which is a beautiful plane. I got to look inside a real 737 the cockpit recently, I asked and we had not even pushed back. I was not allowed to touch anything, of course, and the engines were off, but you knew that because I told you we had not pushed back yet. Wow… it appeals to my OCD nature. So putting my concentration levels to maximum and forgetting we were recording it. I did it which is here if you want to have a look: My Landing

Then on Sunday it was church and all that. Then chocolate again wow.. granny and granddad sent me these [pictured] plus an egg (mommy got one as well). Then from [gru]papa and [gru]mama I got six more bars of chocolate and a red hat, I think they are trying to remind me of my roots. It was a barretina of Catalonia but more north kind of style. I love it, although there is some, but present suspicion that they trying to fatten me up in time for Christmas. Maybe it is me who are for Christmas dinner. I will of course share chocolate mostly, plus it will last me quite some time. I did use the P word [non-English] My second copy of Utopia is so valuable to me and also old, it has survived spending most of its life in a monastery before it got to me. Printed in 1904 and when I picked it up the front cover fell off. So P!! It is not valuable to the world just be, so now I will only touch it on very special occasions.

Then Monday and yesterday... well, there has been a challenge that I have been trying to overcome. That is taking the dishes et al out of the dishwasher. If I put things in there I have to wash my hands right afterwards, but taking clean things out is worse. I am not sure why, but when water from dishes et al touch me it really freaks me out. Mugs are the worst, you put them in upside down and they have somewhat of a concave bottom so there is always a little bit of water on there. I managed a little bit on Monday and a bit more yesterday. It just really freaks me out, there is no reason for it, maybe just the OCD thing. I am just trying to do a little bit each day and trying to not panic. So that was my weird weekend, well that is quite normal, so it feels good.

So now I am here I have some school work and then later to see if the ducks/evil geese have returned.

Namaste

Yes, I know I use this too much and it maybe not my own way of expressing it. But I am sad.. so this is my diary and it is how I feel so..

Twisted every way, what answer can I give?
Am I to risk my life to win the chance to live?
Can I betray the man who once inspired my voice?
Do I become his prey? Do I have any choice?
He kills without a thought. He murders all that's good.
I know I can't refuse, and yet I wish I could.
Oh God, if I agree what horrors wait for me, in this, the Phantom's opera?

I am not sure why I wrote this and it is not a poem at all. It is just a thing that was in my head and here it is.

Free as a bird they say,
what non-sense of such talk.
Portrays me in such a way of freedom.
While it is true, I can fly in the sky.
As high as can be, they lack knowing.
It be cold if not to say lonely.

Free as a bird they say,
Foolish humans are they.
Portrays me in such a way of
fleeing & fluttering when I no longer
wish to stay.
What if I am eating my dinner?
It is often foolish to stay but a
nuisance to not stay.

Free as a bird they say.
Tell me of a warm fire on cold nights,
Supper before going to bed not hungry.
Thats luxury if I am to have my say.
To be honest the worries of me,
which is to be embarrassed
Is, well… scared of heights
Now who is as free as a bird
Not me I say.
A Very Grumpy Duck

I cannot sleep and this is not a poem 2.

Little doubt in the symphony of light,
Day slowly marching towards the night.
The body needs neglecting as the,
Birds gradually start to hush their thinking.
Flowers morn their missing basking light,
Creatures and humans know now,
It is time for sleeping.

With fleeting dreams not sent from the sky,
Rather a creation of our imagination.
Unchecked dreams are tokens of love,
sent to you allowing you to go were ever you like.
Those that were sent for a special purpose,
At sleep the mind not the dreamer holds all the power,
If such dreams are neglected they will never be let go.

So…
Teddies and Amalies alike get tucked in tight,
These teddies will be the guardians of the night,
Tummies still full from the desserts of delight,
Bed time stories told without any fright,
Hoping the dreams will be pleasant all night.
Sleep well and Ni Night

Warning this is quite morbid thing to read. So, please consider that as it might upset. I am the co-author of this, it feels somehow and weirdly the right time to share it. It is fiction of course just it comes from a dark place.

The Nine Children
The children have always played here, although at the start there was no sign of what it would in the end become. A dance they would play for decades, without each of them having conscious thought or the ability to stop. After all, they are just children; the one I normally watch closely is a little girl with rich brown hair. She normally starts directly in front of me, before yet again the game starts. Still, she reminds me of someone. I dont know why for years I have looked outside of my window at the same time in the early morning to watch them. I guess that is why I have never even considered moving, partly due to not wanting to abandon them or maybe I feel like if I stop watching them, I will never understand why they are still here after all these years. They all start by holding hands, nine of them, all standing still before it begins.

Ive tried to talk to the little girl before, at some point I even left toys for her. Still, she, none of them, can hear me; she just stands there in a dirty brown dress which has a printed flower pattern, brown shoes and a red piece of ribbon tying her hair back, you never see them get ready; walking to the spot where the game takes place, all you see is no one and then suddenly all of them ready, waiting to start. The girl smiles, looks to her left and then looks to her right. Over the years I have learnt a few things, Ive come to understand that not only did they all share the fate; afterwards all were put in the same place to rest forever.

After all the years, youd think that I would remember all the fine details of all of their faces, their clothes and all their actions. Still, I never have because I have never cared about any of them, that is other than the little girl. Whos face I can see when I close my eyes. I wish I never let those thoughts control my mind, to dictate my actions on that day. I just saw her and knew that I wanted to hurt her. I honestly never wanted to hurt any of them and in a way I never did. They join up, hand in hand, creating a circle and slowly start to turn clockwise. At first all they do is smile and laugh, looking at each other, waiting for someone to start the song. Enjoying the sensation of getting dizzy in the meantime.

You see the little girl was not meant to be one of them, it was just an accident, but now I can see why I picked her. More importantly, I can see why I wanted to remember her rather than any of the others. I did it with a soft touch, I see her now just with dried blood around her mouth., the only sign left. It was just a shame that, above all else, I had to give up my own daughter. Its the little girl that normally starts the song, softly, as I stand at the window watching them. She starts Ring a ring o roses, A pocket full of posies, I missed you! I kissed you! We all fall dead.

Frustrations Part 1 – The Anti-Frustrations
Before I go into the frustrations, for balance, if not just for my confidence, I would like to list the things that are getting better or have improved. First of all, the panic attacks are not happening so much, although I still have a lot of scared feelings and they happen some of the time they are reduced, lessened which is good. In a related but separate non-frustration is that I am better at going into the thing mommy taught me and it also works for when I get that I am going out of my body feeling. So I have two ways to explain it, although I prefer mine. I sit on the floor, which by the way, is the best way to sit. Then I do if I can a body scan thing so I know which parts of me are being naughty. Then I go through each part of my body massaging it, tensing it and letting it go and then give that part of me a good shake. If I have done my hair ready for school sometimes I can mess it up again, but then again, it should not misbehave in the first place. It really does help and I feel more in control of my body and with less anxiety – the grown up way of saying that is that I strengthen the mind/brain connection and promoted grounding though sensorimotor feedback. Then at the end if it feels safe to stand up I do an Elvis Presley thing, but not him, the Pharaoh in Joseph and the amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat which I have been told acts like Elvis Presley. So I do a ‘Thank you very much, Pharaoh style.

Sleep is kind of better, although I wake up early all the time, but then I can catch up during the day. My inner Spaniard is coming out through my sleep, who knew! Although I am unable to get to my bedtime because I almost always fall asleep before it. As for school, I am attending 1 and a half days at the moment, which is good because it is ‘social therefore good [apparently]. There is talk of going for two days a week, Monday and Thursday, but there is also talk of having a grown up helper. To be honest that feels like going backwards and I would prefer either a pirate monkey helper or a helper monkey who is a pirate. Do not worry, I am not a pirate, at least not right now. In addition to my attendance, I have not kicked K. and for that I would like a prize. She is not quite the moo moo that I have known before. There is one last thing on my list and that is I am growing; I am now the tallest Amalie in the world [excluding any that are taller than me]. So I guess you could say that eating is getting better. So thank you for joining for part one, this concludes it. Carry on.

Frustrations Part 2 – The Science bit
I am so glad that you could join me for part two, welcome. One day I would really like to go to TED because they are amazing and hold lots of people who know lots of things all of which I can annoy with questions. The last time I checked though you had to be an ‘academic which I am not despite the fact if you include school, I have kind of worked in academia most of my life. Oh, and it costs like $15.000 and sadly I do not get paid for going to school. So, Tim Harford did a talk about frustration or as I like to call it ‘The mystery behind the frustration. He said that frustration can make you feel greatly uncomfortable, which I can testify, it does. I get frustrated about my frustration. He is saying because it slows me down I will then master it, although it would be nice to not slow down at least there is some benefit. He went on to talk about stuff, but in summary sometimes working in a mess, not chaos, can help because it helps to produce creativity. Through our creativity new ideas are formed and new dreams are envisioned ergo it is good to have frustrations. I would counter with a different argument, but I am not an academic so… pants et al.

Frustrations part 3 – Oh no, she killed the dog again.
This and the following part are not for young ears, I have cautioned you, but if you decide to stay welcome and remember I am the boss. When I say, oh no, she killed the dog again, let me reassure you that no doggies are harmed in any manner. It is just the title of a piece of music and I find it somewhat useful to express the repetitive if not insane nature of my frustrations. Unlike Thomas Edison, who did in fact kill doggies because he was evil and a complete poop face. He also killed a human or two, but I cannot concern myself with all humanity's failures at the same time. So Frustrations which are mine, to be honest the whole Edison has made me a little bit sad. I am not sure who brought it up, but I will not blame myself. So speaking is one of them frustrating things, yesterday I was trying to tell my teacher something but I kind of panicked. I am not sure what came out, but it was just a collection of random sounds. The creative solution to such problems I came up with alongside G. That is to conduct myself through the use of a metronome, more precisely 85 beats per minute. I can normally do it in my head but if I panic I forget. I might have to carry a metronome around with me which will need some explanation. I also practice in the mirror, but people sometimes get freaked out I have to look at their mouth so I can work out what they are saying. G and J are confusing although not so much in English, then of course the C and K which are mixed with N sometimes because you know crazy town. There are more, but let me give an example, abstraction is a pain at times.

Word: Dont Such as ‘dont you like the sun Mr.
Pronounced English: dəʊnt
Closest sound I make: Doughnut

So although I can hear the sound I am still trying to get closer to it and I do not mean doughnut when you hear me say it. I would be happy to not just come out with sounds and more them word things. So the second related issue is that of walking, which I am almost good at. At times it just frustrates me because legs come on. The medicine also stops my brain from fighting with my body, but then I cannot control my legs so much afterwards. As Grandmama said always focus on where you are going and trust your feet will remember how to get there. I found that also worked for an astronaut when she was trying to control a remote arm thing. It works some of the time and stairs well go down on my bottom just in case. The above mentioned exercise can help with that sometimes. I also have anxiety which kind of tells me my distinction of mind and brain are not the separate entities that I so hoped for. I am also shaking a lot, that kind of comes and goes. I am growing so it is just my brain learning the to control bigger version of me.

I believe this is called the bonus round, the part within a game show in which things will be asked quickly in order to win points. So this part is like that, but no one wins and I am just going to mention my other frustrations like not weeing in the toilet, not feeling grown up enough, my word selection problem, the images I get with food and of course but not least of all, the fact I have almost bitten off my two fingers. I made them bleed on Sunday [I think], it is that self-comfort thing. I think that the biggest of them is food, it is like I am forgetting how I learnt to eat. So I get stuck and I see things from when I was learning and that introduces a level of panic in me like it did back then. As the ghost of Christmas Future said You are who you are don't blame me. I will say now it might have been one of the other two and that is how I remember it. There is more gravy than grave about you... perhaps you are just some undigested beef. Again, not completely accurate but just right about enough. If frustrations are to produce a better understanding and ability, I will welcome it. I am saying all I have said and the way I have said it are normal and part of me. If you do not like it, then sod off in the nicest way. I am me, that is how I was made and although yes, I mentioned weeing in the toilet which is embarrassing… it is still me. I would like to keep my fingers though; they are kind of important to me. For the rest I await creative solutions.

Caution Bad language, images and abuse stuff.

Frustrations part 4 – Four words to the f**king naughty step.
In order for me to get away with saying the 5 steps I will include the etymology of the F word, although no one is sure which is the true origin, they can be found in German Ficken which is the verb to have some sex. Dutch Fokken which is to breed. There are of course the Greek roots of Phyo which includes the meaning to beget or to give birth. If you speak German or Dutch, I am sorry for the bad language. This would be the part not for young ears and as such I will use a progressive scale of bad language in order to express something deeply confusing and troubling me. My hope is that the shock of the words I use will correlate with the confusion it is causing. I am going to talk about strong emotions and images in my head that scare me so, if you have been with me all this time and wish to leave the door is open. If not and you still want to carry one, well then... lets begin.

In Ancient Egypt and in other cultures the four humours were thought to control the health of humans, it was when they four humors of blood, yellow bile, black bile and phlegm, were out of line or sync with each other people got sick. Still, there is also another use for this medical theory in that the same events can be seen in different ways depending on the understanding of the combination of emotions and rational (or irrational) thoughts that are present in me at any given time. Since they are all within me, they can exist as being true and very much in conflict. So when I talk of abuse I talk of synchronisation of my humours. Since my humours are difficult to explain they exist here like this:

Fudge is very much like me saying darn it, the polite way of describing things and to be honest this is me hiding what is going on in my head [kind of]. There is no anger, a slight element of embarrassment and my brain is behaving himself. I like it when it is all fudge crackers to be honest and this is when self-comfort is just possible. I have no images in my head and I am just happy to be me.

Frick is a degree worse there is no anger really and nothing more than embarrassment. I can see why things are not my fault and my brain is behaving mostly although I am still fighting with him. I can normally talk to people about that bad stuff but I might get grumpy. I do not always know what happened, as in the details of me. Frick days are ok and I can just keep doing things to take my mind away. Recently I have been looking into space travel

Feck is bad and is perhaps more normal to me that a f**k day, see below. Under knowing what happen I am really aware of it, I experience shame and embarrassment. I do not want people to know what happened and it is kind of difficult to talk to anyone without them helping me. I cannot really comfort myself and I tend to do OCD things like sorting out pencils or book into different orders. I can feel some anger and it is difficult to see why things are not my fault. My brain shows me things and I get scared.

Fuck is on the other end of the scale, there is a lot of anger but mostly directed at myself along with self-loathing in which I blame myself for well... everything. These are my crying and do not leave me alone days, they luckily do not happen a lot now but they happen. I fear my thoughts and to be honest I think that me talking about things will just hurt other people. The conflict that this produces is just insane. I know what happened and my brain is showing me everything. I can see things going inside of me and it scares the crap out of me. Logic be damned, I do not understand why things are not my fault and I hate the fact I get any physical pleasure from things. I hate myself and I do not know how I can exist. Absolute shame is present. I cannot sort things out.

So that is it I think, thank you for joining me. That last part was edited to remove stuff because it felt wrong and embarrassing. I read something and I will share it. An illusion of sound will often give rise to a hallucination of sight. I liked that although it does kind of mean that a person has to be whole.