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Blog Note: How My Stories Live Here -

 

How My Stories Live Here

Every now and then I like to remind anyone reading this blog — and remind myself — what this space actually is.

All of my stories, all of my words, all of my memoir blasts and memoir shards, the family poems, the trauma pieces, the fiction, the fables, the medical truths, the menopause facts, the book‑in‑progress fragments… none of it runs in chronological order.

This blog is a patchwork quilt of my life. A mosaic. A scattered explosion of my ND brain.

I’ve saved notes for years — scraps, sentences, voice notes, half‑written chapters, things I thought I’d write “one day.” (Not ever with Dyslexia) Now I’m finally putting them somewhere safe, because AI has made this possible. It means they don’t get lost. Some pieces are true — most are. Some are imagined. Some are future‑book material. Some are raw memory. Some are me processing trauma in real time.

It doesn’t run consecutively. It doesn’t run neatly. It bounces around exactly the way my mind does.

But every piece — every shard, every blast, every line — is mine. My best words. My experience. My opinions. My voice.

This blog is simply a home for all of it.

Footnote

If you see yourself, hopefully you love it — and if you don’t, I’ll deny it. I am finally taking up space with my words, a sentence I never thought I would write.

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