This is my head, yes there are a lot of voices in it, talking away, trying to control what I think and do. I’m trying to quiet them a bit at the moment, sssshhhhh… Can you spot yourself in there? Lots of my friends have become voices, it is not good. However, although they are problematic I am also addicted to them somehow, I talk to them constantly, and my brain also unconsciously searches for voices in the fans, in the light buzzing, in the noise after the record. This is why I chose the old gods, because its better for the voices to be gods than people I know. The clock is in the drawing because I always get the feeling that I should be doing something other than what I am doing, like now I should be tiding the flat and buying food for the dinner I’m giving tonight, and preparing for the interview I have on Saturday and the workshop I’m giving in the afternoon and so on. I must stop this feeling.
But now I must correct some mistakes, hints, and allegations…
Firstly I am NOT a born again christian, or indeed a christian of any sort. A reader of my blog somehow came to this conclusion. I think it is more likely that I get burnt at the stake. When I talk of God I am referring to a huge, unspeakable thing that IS. It can be talked of as a symptom of my brain disease but it is more than anything else and must always be in my life. It appears in the most ridiculous things, bottle tops, cracks in the paving stones, stains on the table, but no matter how ridiculous its placement it still is everything, life, the abyss, everything. This is very different from the Christian God I think.
Secondly, children. Just not meant to be.
Do I have them or want them? I’m very frequently asked this, it is annoying!
I guess it is asked of all women of a certain age and I’m just glad I wasn’t born 50 years earlier. The truth is I may look alright but I am in fact an alien in disguise, my body doesn’t comply with the things other human bodies do. It is not just my brain, I get endless surprised comments from doctors about the oddities of my body. I know my uterus isn’t “right”, this doesn’t definitely mean I can’t have children, but history suggests there is something not happening. And I’m fine about that.
I like children a lot, but really I knew from an early age I wasn’t going to have any. I was going to take over the world (obviously, I’m alien) and there just was no time for this children lark. My family disagreed though, they are a very child based family, “women that don’t have children go weird” they said. When I’m with my family I feel valueless because I don’t have children, and this, in the past has made me want them. The idea of having a child has also been an imagined escape route, a way to change my life when I am not happy with it.
Around this time last year, after the removal of the large cyst from my ovary, I ceased having periods, my stomach swelled and I felt nausea a lot. I did a pregnancy test and it was positive. I went to the doctor, I wasn’t pregnant, it was a side-effect of the operation. It broke my heart though, in a way, because it made me picture a loving family of my own which I can never have.
That makes it sound like I am upset that I can’t have children doesn’t it? But I am not. I like my life as it is, and children and conversing with God are two things that have historically never gone well together.
Kay, the cat, is a cat, and not a baby, I have had animals around me all my life, why must people now assume I only have them to satisfy my need for children? And if I do turn into a mad cat lady so be it! I shall have company in the cats, God, the voices in my head, and the ability to draw trees. Anymore would be greedy. (Oh yes, and I’m taking over the world, along with the trees, very very slowly)