Introduction to my world

Some days are better than others. Today is one of those days when I think that life is worth living for another day. At least for today. We shall see what tomorrow brings. I have not written in goons ages and I have lost what I needed to write. I think part of it is the computer. You type it into the computer and voila! You have lost the personal touch of a handwritten journal. I must admit though, that my handwriting isn't as nice as it used to be, especially if I am writing in a journal and tend to write fast. So perhaps, this may be better for my descendants to be able to read. But still, nothing like something handwritten.
  I really wish I could dump what all I have on my mind. But there is something holding me back, and I know part of it happens to be my mother. I was never allowed to keep a journal when I was young. Although teachers encouraged it since as far back as I can remember. Even Patty Duke on the Patty Duke show had a diary. But my mother always kept telling me after she would read what I wrote: "Never write anything you don't want anyone to read." No personal thoughts, views or feelings. No matter how angry I got or bad I felt, what frightened me; I was never allowed to write it and feel ok. I could write light and airy things, like about marshmallows and fairy tales, how perfect my mommy is and things like that, but never anything about what bothered me. Or who I first kissed, or my most intimate thoughts. God forbid if I said anything negative. And so to this day, I keep worrying about hurting people's feelings. In the past when I was young, I did attempt to keep journals (or back then, we called them diaries). They always were found by my mother, read by her and confiscated. She still has them. I did venture writing in them personal things and it was used against me, held against me and a few other things. She even has the books I wrote to my children, of the letters I wrote to them while I was carrying them; and refuses to give them to me, or allow me to see them.
  I don't know if I want to publish my journal. I do have that opportunity to with the program I am using. Again, I think I would worry about whom I'm writing about and what can I say or should I say. I reckon I can choose which journal entry to publish. That may work.
  I just wish that people understood Organic Brain Syndrome and what it does to someone. I keep telling people to look it up. But I can see that they have done that and still do not understand the changes in my body, mind and soul that this disease has caused. Simply put, it has caused havoc in my life, both externally and internally. It is a slow, sad demise into an eternity of hell it seems. To watch the building blocks that I built as a child to become a woman and who I am today slowly rot and disintegrate is so frightening. Especially upon the eve of my first grandchild arriving. Upon watching my daughter Anneliese; whom I wanted to raise so badly, become a mother.... and my daughter Danielle; who is becoming a young woman, nearly ready to be a wife herself. My son James, who doesn't even know me... and I only know him enough to know that he is my son, the one I never got the chance to raise... to see his first steps... has stepped into adulthood without me once again. My children and my husband have no idea how hard I struggle to make memory pictures in my mind and keep them there in fear of losing them. Even my mom, I make memory pictures with her. My brothers too. But mostly, my children and my beloved husband whom I love more than life itself. My children are the blood that runs through my veins and if that ever dries up, I would simply die. I have experience with this first hand. When I was in high school, about to graduate... my father one morning, did not remember me. He did not know me. He did not know my mother. I had to go to school that day that way. It frightened me terribly, I felt lost. Even though he was lost, I felt lost too. It was like the notes on the blackboard for the next day's quiz were erased and I had no idea what the answers would be. Little did I know, that less than 3 years later, I would be diagnosed with a brain disorder. I was told that I was born with it, the two nerves in the back of my head are twisted and not straight up and down as they should be. My mother was with me, when they told me that I had a birth defect. She immediately went into  a rage and defended herself desperately as if she were on death row and that this was her last appeal. It was never about me. It was always about her. I did not and do not  blame her for what happened to me, but I guess she assumed it was her fault as she had a child who had a severe birth defect. In 1997, when my baby girl was 2 years old, I was then diagnosed with the dreaded Organic Brain Syndrome. I was lost one day with Danielle and I had a MRI done. They told me about the OBS (Organic Brain Syndrome), and that it was the beginning of Alzheimer's. I have the dementia side of OBS. Gray matter is splattered on my brain as if there is gray paint splattered on a perfectly painted piece of art. Those areas of gray matter are dead brain cells. Some of them are just dying.
  I have to go for now, to get my housework done and some other things. But I will try to write again and the next time I write, I will write about the effects that OBS has on me personally. It will not be a pretty picture, but it must be said so that people can try to understand and maybe, just maybe, someone can help find a cure for it or to make another person with OBS feel better knowing that they are not alone.