Success

They say success is 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration; well I’ve got perspiration. I’ve got perspiration coming out of my ears!

…

Where was I?
Oh yes, my sweaty, sweaty ears. But what happens when that perspiration and inspiration mean you hit your limits before you’ve completed the requisite socialisation?

Sweatier ears for a start.

Inspiration, perspiration and frustration.

Writing should always have a purpose. I’ve been wondering what mine is.

Sometimes it’s a deep desire to reach out blindly in the hope that people will reach back and I will be enveloped in a community.

Sometimes it’s a need to feel understood and explain why what you see is not what I get.

Sometimes it’s a desperate urge to help. I want to change the world and make it a better place for those like me.

I live on a cycle of hyper focus and exhaustion. I live connected to every sound and light and touch around me, in a way that others strangely don’t.

I live in a world where people are the main variable in my predictable routine. I live in a world where my clear expression of things is seen as strange and cold, whereas misleading politeness is kind.

Someone overheard me say to my husband, “I really want to hear about your day, but if you tell me now I won’t process it. Can we not talk for a while.” They said it was a hurtful thing to say. I didn’t process it at the time. I often don’t process things until later, particularly negative things.

It can be twenty-four hours before it will suddenly hit me that something was meant as a bad thing. I will have nodded and smiled as I do to any statement that doesn’t need a response.

Was what I said hurtful? I asked my husband later. He said that it is sometimes not what he wants to hear, but he’d rather I was listening instead of wasting energy pretending to and hearing nothing. He said he always appreciated that later on I would ask and listen and respond. That I showed I cared.

I need him to be honest with me. Without that honesty I will put up the barriers I have in the rest of the world. I wouldn’t be authentically me.

This is a meandering post about nothing much, I’m in a meandering mood.

On occasion I will say to him, “Can I empty my head at you?”, other times he will say it to me. It means we can empty any persistent thoughts, no matter how trivial or vital or ridiculous. We verbalise them and have them listened to.

Sometimes we will talk further, sometimes a splurge is all that is needed. Letting words go is a soothing thing for everyone.

Today is Friday. I’ve waved at the birds, since they waved at me. I have nothing to do but meander the day away. How often do we get time for going with the flow?

Today perspiration is a distant, salty memory. Today a smile is the main weapon in my arsenal. Today I’m not hiding, I’m just being.

Today doesn’t need a purpose.