White Whale Dream

I dreamt I lived on a small lake. Looking out, I thought I saw something large and white in the water near the dock. I went out and looked. Sure enough, a very large white whale was swimming about. He turned and looked at me in a friendly way. I loved seeing him.

Then, still on the dock, a row boat full of refugees, most notably an old sea captain holding a small child. He handed the child to me. I invited them in as I was supposed to, to care for them that had been lost, adrift, alone.

I think one of my biggest lessons is learning to trust myself

I am Mute

It has been 8 days since I've had a conversation, laughed out loud or made an audible sigh. Even my yawns seem strange without their verbal intonations. 

Being Mute is akin to being in another, separate and distinct world. Or, in a different vein, it can be seen as an invisible barrier, a thick layer of protection that wraps around me and insulates me from the world.

Mute, the external world falls away losing its importance and quite a bit of its previous value. 

It's like falling into a sub-world whereby you exist but are not as readily seen. You walk along alone as engaging in any type of communication the effort to be understood is too costly. 

Some people will think you are broken, a project to be analyzed and fixed. 

When I am Mute, my brain sometimes stops producing words all together. I might be unable to form letters, text or write. I have to wait for the words to come back so I'll go along with the rest of my day, chores, tasks and hobbies. 

The times of nowords can also mean that I lose the ability to comprehend the written word. My novel reading comes to an abrupt halt. Bookmark in place, I recline. 

Clearly, I am in that place where I'm not quite able to string words together to form those tangible, coherent sentences that I'm usually blessed with.

Being Mute is both easy and hard. Easy because I'm unperturbed regarding the sick, crazed world around me. Hard because I've become more invisible. 

My fate rests solely in my own hands when I am unable to ask for help.

I have no control over when my Selective Mutism starts, how long it lasts or when it chooses to end.

I feel different, weird and separate. 

I'm an extremely odd duck.

Always and Never Alone book free

I'm currently running a free ebook promotion Sunday March 15th 8 am until Tuesday March 17th 8am on Amazon, Kindle.

You can pick up a free copy of my extraordinary memoir, Always and Never Alone: the true story of an Autistic and how she got that way, during these two days.

I've sold dozens of copies and received some amazing positive feedback.

I don't know why I'm here

I'm having one of those days whereby I am clueless as to the reason for my existence and inert as I have no idea what my function is or should be.

Seriously, I breathe, take up space, leave an impression within the cushion of my chair yet that is all. Ambition is gone along with "what the hell should I be doing with myself". 

Thus I sit. I breathe. I exist. Without knowing the reason.

Always and Never Alone, My First Book is Now Available

The full title:
Always and Never Alone: a true story of an Autistic living with Multiple Personality Disorder and how she got that way
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Days in Bed, wondering why I'm here

This past weekend I was happy, productive and full of energy and optimism.
After Monday's therapy it seems I've fallen into that old slump of unanswerable questions and chronic fatigue. I've been in bed for these two days. Can't seem to eat or drink much. I'm sleeping mostly. When I'm awake I'm just drifting away.
I don't know what to do with myself. I've become expert at isolation and my secret wish is just to pass in my sleep.
I have no purpose and can't figure out a reason to get up. For decades, I've questioned the meaning of my life and I'm no closer to an answer in this fifth decade of existence.
Why am I here? Is a haunting, hopeless question that has plagued me ever since my escape from the family of dysfunction, torture and lies.
Growing up, all my energy and effort, every waking thought and cohesive nightmare was propelling me to survive and figure out the strategies necessary to live through a nother day.
I don't know what to think or where to focus. I see no reason to try and get up or interact in a world that doesn't know my name. I don't know what to do. What drives people to function? Money, mostly I guess. Eating, drinking, going places.
I don't know why I'm here. I don't know why i should even try and get up. What's the reason? The motive? What's the goal after the war is over?
My head is empty.
I'm just existing, again, still