Taming My Chaos

And if I’m really busy it doesn’t register, because I’m always here and now and the events stack on each other and my time is measured in tham. But that is 1) unsustainable and 2) I still forget a lot and I’m so lost in the events and obligations that my emotional or physical state does not register.

I recently realized that this is what makes me want to fill stacks and stacks of notebooks full of my thoughts and knowledge. Only I can’t seem to write consistently. Even in high school I had trouble filling a notebook in any subject.

So when I wanted to write down my life, journalling and bullet journalling it followed waves and waves of writing and not. Half filled trackers and notebooks filled to 2/3.

And I realized that filling a notebook no matter the size (I tried several) feels like too much.

So I’ll be trying out a new thing, a 6 ring binder, a6 pages, I’ll write and then later when I go to archive the pages, only then I will group them and tie them together as little books and so I will fill all of them before even collecting them into units.

Hopefully thaťll provide a bit more satisfaction and in turn motivation. I also decided to track as much as I can on my phone and only the monthly graphs into my rings for relating them to one another and analyzing a bit what it means for me.

I am now over half way through an A6 Leuchtturm softcover notebook and am just using the bullet journal method and indexing as much as I can bring myself to. It feels much more solid and permanent than the pages.

!!!EDIT!!! Plz read before sending hate:

I fill the space with food and my mind with anything to focus at.

When I can’t breathe in the empty appartment, I would do anything to escape.

But I still take care to find another way then through the 10th floor window.

I read and read untill wee hours of the morning to keep my mind from cathastrophising before sleep.

Asking for help when I can

and screaming out all that I previusly bottled up.

The silence is hurting my ears it sratches at my brain and makes me sit rigidly still.

My ears hear a high pitched noise so they don’t have to hear the silence.

I can hear the fridge work, electricity sreaming in the walls of my home and the main street humming with cars and busses.

And still the silence feels empty.

My heart beats too fast.

I eat to combat the emptiness in myself.

And I clench my muscles against the pressure of the too heavy air.

But I am strong, I will play myself a sad song and hopefully someday it will be easier to just be

Alone

With myself

Through the flurry of colour, and strokes,

at the end of the tunnel filled with art,

in the square room full of gods and Fae of the times old,

I saw him, me, him, me, him, me,

Merlin.

Not yet a man old, wise, sporting a silver beard,

but the young man full of wonder,

learning still to control his fire,

this element of power to wield.

A young man learning about the frail balance of the world,

the balance of good and bad, the yin and yang of his time.

I saw myself in his eyes trying to understand this world of mine,

the unwritten rules of this space and time I fell into.

As he is learning to wield his fire, I am learning to wield mine,

find the line between too little and too much.

Between too loud and too quiet, too strong and too weak.

The sweet spot of existence where you can feel complete.