Of all the actions I undertake, I appear to have a special affinity for note taking, for writing of all kinds. My initial thought was that I have a blog, therefore I have a need to write. I now believe this is backwards.

My hunch is that I have some form of compulsion to write and the blog is merely the most visible, most public, manifestation of this urge.

I am aware of writing as solace, as a means to settle myself when I have been thrown off balance. It is soothing to push electrons around and utilize glyphs to express synaptic discharges in a concrete, physical form. Writing brings thoughts into the visible world, making it possible for them to be shared beyond the range of voice. Sharing occurs not just between individuals. Writing permits thought created in one time period to be encountered and reviewed in a second, later time period. Writing is a time machine that permits sharing between epochs. This blog is used as a form of evidentiary record. I turn to it to confirm dates, and event sequences, to verify a chain of thought, to determine when a concept first came to mind.

But I suspect the key motive to my writing is that the act provides me with a sense of ability, of capacity, offers me the sense of being close to what I once was, of actualizing the prior pre-injury self.

In spring of this year, I completed a proposal which required a great deal of effort to write. This past week I emailed a possible employment contact and presented the proposal to them. I thought they might express interest and participate. They declined. This was a heavy blow.

My sense is that I am duplicating the process I followed when I undertook to create a national newsletter for a local non-profit. I launched myself into the project but found it was beyond my capacity. I suspect the TBI Proposal springs from similar origins. I undertake a project in the belief that I can successfully complete it, as it is a task set I was able to perform without problem pre-injury. I appreciate the challenge of undertaking the work but I end up in a position of overstretch, discovering limitations that did not previously exist.

Something similar is taking place in my domestic affairs. I have this longing to simplify my life. My current domicile is not big but it is too big for me to properly manage. The flip side of this decision is that it would entail disposing of most of the relics of my prior life. I would basically be saying goodbye to the person that I once was. I keep returning to the thought that I just need to fight a little longer, a little harder. I just need to persevere and at the end of that effort lies a full recovery. One half of me knows this to be untrue. The other half does not want to face the issue.