I know it’s in “one” of these notebooks…

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I’ve been writing in notebooks, journals, pocketbooks, napkins, or anything at close hand when an idea strikes for the past twenty years.  Its amazing how well I do remember writing a certain idea down. I could tell you where on the page I wrote it, or what color pen I used. Why is it that I can’t remember where i put the dang notebook?!

Having children does not help this crazy disorganized problem.

Mixed within the pages are drawings and writings of all five of my children. Memories of joy and troubled times entangled with the latest masterpiece of a three year old, “Which I might add is colored over my writings”.

I’m learning that my mind is so much like these notebooks. Little tid bits here and there are always fresh and easily remembered, but the stuff that needs to be worked on is safely tucked away next to some random piece of knowledge I cant quite seem to link together to get a full picture.

Emotions and feelings change in the form of words only because we’ve been told to label what we feel. What if the label we’ve been giving our own feelings  isn’t the correct one for us personally. What happens to our thought process when this is done? Maybe I am just different and its time to start labeling “my” memories for me.  I’m sure so many others have no problem with memories or emotions and the day to day life that flows with each. But for me, who is an Empath at the highest level…..I struggle with finding the true “me”.

Having Empathy is like being an on call Concierge. My mind is always showing me visions of what others are in need of. People I don’t even know, their needs jump to the top of the list making my own needs hidden within theirs.  I’m so frustrated with not knowing what i want until someone else is in need. Example:” I haven’t had a drink of water in awhile but I am not thirsty until I get my child a drink of water because they are thirsty, and then when doing this i realize Holy Crap I’m so thirsty….as I drink like a camel from the kitchen sink”

“I know being a young mother at the age of seventeen hasn’t helped this situation at all, but how and when does a mother finally start thinking of herself without the shame of being selfish…even if for just a glass of water. Something so easy yet so hard because of the misguided labeling of my own feelings.”

 

 

 

 

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