Living intentionally is often as tough as the stairway Dan shared on his post. In fact, his published books shows it works for him. By the way, I am reading his book, Poetic Justice as my Kindle, slow read. Not my audiobook, like all my others, but page by page. It is engaging. I just can’t track well. But I am able to stick with it. Mysteries of the murdering type, are tough. But the main character, Brody, keeps the story moving. It is my intention to finish the book within a couple of weeks.
I’m working on my intentions and manifesting goals. That’s what my possibility list on New Year’s starts with small and deep thoughts. From working on thought patterns to knitting, to communication with others. I’m all over the map as I zero in on the things that will bring me joy or somehow help heal the universe
I had so much fun with posting YouTubes yesterday that I thought I’d do it one more time. Try not to yawn.
I have never had to do that. It is my worst nightmare. I can’t imagine being able to remember anything while talking in front of others. Once my anxiety levels of stagefright take over I have no words. Forget that I could save lives by what I know. Add to the fact that if I remember it wrong or use the wrong words a person could be put in jail or to death and the brain would shut down.
The amazing thing is I can sing in front of a crowd. But the words are to a melody and rhythm. And they are memorized with gesticulations. But you know how on the news the reporters go to a person asking about their experience? Yeah. My words would sound like a foreign language. The tongue would be tangled. I’d break out in a cold sweat. I feel amazed when I see people talking like they do, like educated folk that lend to the news story.
Nope. Not me. EVER.
I’ve had jobs where I had to sell. Totally the wrong job for me. They say that if you love something its easy to talk about. Maybe true with my friends and family. But not with strangers. That’s why I write. Even then I don’t capture what I feel to the depth I want.
Then there is the aphasia. I’ve had a form of that most of my life and now that I’m old it has gotten so much worse. Often I forget what the word for forgetting words is. The more tired, the lack of sleep, the pain and words go out the window. NaNoWriMo can be terrifying if I’m having those problems. I’ve learned a trick with it though. I gain wordage to boot. Brackets. [the word that means you have to get up in front of the judge and jury and talk] See? Later when I get to those brackets I will know that word and fill in that one word, in this case, testify.
With friends and family I can do that, “You know the word that means…” and really close friends can practically read my mind. What’s funny now is that as I age, so do they and it seems they are looking for words that I can find on the tip of my tongue. I know that is because I don’t have the anxiety of finding the word.
BUT the worst is when everyone is stuck. Like contagious stagefright. You can have a whole room of people looking for the word. What happens is that a different sort of ‘catchy’ happens then. The giggles.
Working on my series: Haven.
Doodler (zendoodle.com)
Music major: voice and piano
Mom of four great adults
Reiki II practitioner
I have been on disability/retired for 10 years now from depression, anxiety and fibromyalgia.
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