I only remember my life in pieces

It’s difficult to write the story of your life from scattered snapshots.
Memories strewn about, their proper order illusive.
The rugged landscape of the neurodivergent mind can be that way.
My memories are often out of sequence,
not catalogued in lengthy documentaries,
livestreams or reels.
They’re brief, not always in context.
Like a TikTok video or an Instagram photo.
My memories are unsorted details, in a pile, waiting to be sifted.
Remembering when something happened,
how long ago, and in what order, is often difficult to do. 
Calming the mind is like closing a window on a windy day.
A decisive way to keep the important things from blowing off the table.
Talking it through with a patient and compassionate someone,
helps my muddled brain to settle.
I review the snapshots, making meaning of them, until they connect like the squares of a warm afghan.
Consider, for instance, this post is written in snap shots.
Individual ideas, added together, then stitched into a warm afghan.
I’m much better able to relate to moments, than stories.
Looking for the barriers to peace, calm and happiness we create in each moment.
Learning how to patch them so they blend with each other more seamlessly.
This makes it difficult for me to appreciate, or even imagine the bigger picture. Fortunately, I have trusted friends to lend me their view.
What I lack in big picture thinking, I possess in a powerful ability for living life fully, right now.
This is my contribution to you.
Let’s weave a moment, together.
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