This blog is a rambling discussion of life inside my heart. There are days when writing this blog has become a burden, but I continue to push myself as I firmly believe it is the right thing to do and that it is one of my ‘positive interventions for dementia’ that is helping. Yesterday I just could not find the words to complete a blog draft, write a new blog, or even write a poem, the latter being an alarming alert for me as haikus have been pouring out of me for months now. My husband suggested I simply write ‘Closed due to technical difficulties’, which to his great surprise I did. Yes, I was tired from travelling and working so hard in New Zealand. I was sad and emotional after we had organised my father in laws funeral. These are not the only reasons for the words escaping me, but they do contribute and can make it worse. My husband watched from the sidelines yesterday as words and thoughts ‘literally’ disappeared before I had the time to get my notebook open or pen into action. He regularly sees the frustration and the effort I put in. Sometimes when I write on my blog, some of you respond, sometimes agreeing with what I say, sometimes simply acknowledging or commenting from your own perspective, and others ‘correcting’ or challenging me. I enjoy the online banter, but sometimes take it to heart too; occasionally it hurts or makes me cry. Sometimes it almost makes me want to stop writing. I make mistakes. My ideas are simply that, ‘my ideas’. I do not propose to have the answers to anything, but I do have a lot of experiences to share, and ideas about many things. Sometimes when I write, I have misinterpreted something. Sometimes when you read my blog you misinterpret or misread what I have written. That is life. I work hard to make my writing as good as possible on any given day. I want it to improve, but sometimes the Gravitron inside my head makes it difficult to articulate my thoughts well. I’ve also come to realise eventually I won’t be able to write so well or express how I feel, which is quite difficult to accept. I have been told recently it is apparent now in my writing the dementia is worse which was sad but also enlightening to read. I simply want to live a good life and be a good person. Sometimes I fail. Sometimes I get it right. But every day that I wake up, I say to myself, be brave and speak up for those who can’t; try to live a good and honest life, and help others whenever you can.

Dementia represents the end of dreaming, a long and unforgiving one way odyssey into obscurity, clouded in a thick and unforgiving fog. For me, Blogging has brought back the dreaming. It inspires me to write more, creating a repertoire of my memories and personal history files, ensuring I leave some sort of record or legacy for my children to recall who I was and what I thought about. I was asked recently if I ‘cared’ what others thought of my writing. In one sense, I don’t, simply because I am writing for therapy and as my memory bank. But as it is a public forum, then I guess I do care. The excitement I felt with my first subscriber… and when I get feedback about something someone has read… that I have written… especially when it is something that also had meaning for them, or helped change their world in some small way, encourages me to keep going. It empowers me to rise above dementia and stay inspired and alive and I feel sure it helps with neuroplasticity creating new pathways for my brain to continue functioning. My blog has become the journal of my life, my thoughts and my activities, ensuring my memories are retained, for me, right now. Other social media like Facebook has become important too, as they offer other social connections and ways to record my world. They too have photographs, of people and events and activities, offering me yet another way to recall my world. On the days I can’t remember a face when speaking on the phone, I go straight to one of these sites, as many of my friends are on them!

I read then I forget… I read then I forget… I read, I take notes, and then I forget… I blog (or write), and it is always there. Thank goodness for computers and blogging; they have become my best friends as they constantly command my attention, edit for me, and perhaps most importantly push my brain to work hard every time I connect with them. Writing an historical journal of my own life allows me to recall my world on the days I can’t. It has allowed me to engage in a global community, to learn more, to write about what is like living with the symptoms of dementia. I find the cross-pollination of ideas about dementia, life, living, loving, loss and all the other amazing topics and experiences of others I read online is powerful and empowering. Blogs and social sites such Facebook have turned the global world into a ‘country community’ where people ‘chat’ as if they are in the street in their local town or suburb. The chatting seems to be more honest and raw, less contrived than journalistic pieces, which I find fills the void I feel in this new world where people are so ‘connected’, and yet in so many ways, so much more ‘disconnected’. So few people now make time to pick up the phone for a chat, or drop in for a coffee; we are all so busy and engaged in our own lives, we have forgotten about our neighbours and loved ones. The grief of many of the family and friends who loved my father in law, but didn’t make the effort to spend any time with him in the last couple of years, is an example of how we are living our lives. They should not feel guilt, as it is so very easy to get swept up in our own life, busy with the things that seem so important, until suddenly someone you love dies, or gets very sick. We live until we die, so it is important to squeeze as much out of life as we possibly can before we die, but in the process of doing that, it is so easy to become disconnected with the people we love. Life, love, loss; a roller coaster of dreams and possibilities.