A place to call home

There is a destructive urge that comes with my thoughts, my thoughtfulness and my creativity which says: No one cares.

It begins in a place and ends in the same place within me.  Madness.  It is the madness of a child who has a mother with Borderline Personality Disorder and Narcissistic Personality Disorder and maybe (most likely) ‘some other’ (plural) Personality Disorders (plural again).

So, I asked my husband what I should name this blog site and his response was ‘Sisters of Mercy’ which I immediately struck down but began singing.  So I was singing Leonard Cohen and then the song ended and my internal juke box clicked and I began the next song, which was Suzanne.

I sang Suzanne as I cooked my morning eggs, the kids already in school, and I got through some verses and then went on to make up the rest.  So in the new version Suzanne takes you down to her place at the harbour . . . where Jesus eats your oranges.

Welcome to my harbour.  It is a safe harbour.   Because we all need a safe harbour and I have taken for granted the waters I swim in in the depths of my mind.  I would like to let you in.

So, I am putting all of my crazy ideas in a public forum so that anyone else who comes from insanity and wants to believe they can care about themselves can look at me and know I care.  I don’t know you. But I care.  We will get through this. Us crazy artists.  Us daughters and sons of madness.

My life unfolds as eternal origami so when I am done what is left is a well worn piece of paper everyone can examine.  If they care to.  But here’s the key to it all.  I may not be powerful enough to decide where the paper folds and unfolds but . . .

I get to decide what that paper says.

So far it says this:

I know nothing. I am here to learn.  I have a lot of ideas.  I can shit out ideas and I can get ideas from the wind. I have a house full of ideas on various sizes of paper and I am getting them down into hard format.  This is my followthrough or die project. And I am doing it for you.


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