penetrating a tired mind
the head’s fabric torn
penetrating a tired mind
the head’s fabric torn
A lifetime of difficulties landed hard.
Years of sadness, extremes, and bullshit highs.
Insecurities abounded and chaos prevailed.
Welcome to my world.
I was educated on “What will the people think?” stability.
Happy, healthy home – yeah, that was an illusion.
Inconsistent love led to inward rage,
me only always wanting to run away.
Her generation’s dysfunction and the ones before were handed down.
The family poison designed to slowly kill your mind over time.
But she never counted on me fighting hard for my sanity.
I wouldn’t accept this lame gift fraught with pain.
So I cut ties and let her go.
It helped to put up clearly marked boundaries.
I could finally breathe.
I rose above the insanity to find my peace.
Then she died.
The drama spanning generations ceased.
My inheritance was freedom.
Something she never experienced.
has to change
A needed renovation for the soul.
It’s the place underneath the obvious.
I wanna go deep.
Time to overcome this unease.
I wanna be still.
To excise the superficial, project the truth.
I wanna be real.
To let the music carry me on its wings.
I wanna feel free.
Reveal the tenderness and compassion buried in my pain.
I wanna be me…
I wanna to be happy.
pushing me hard.
Intense emotions wore me down again.
I don’t think I’ve experienced a silent moment, ever.
Every morning I awaken to a barrage of a million tiny pinpricks of fuzzy noise filling my ears. And so the daily task of getting that under control begins. The focus becomes, oddly enough, the fine art of distraction.
This audio companion has impaired me for as long as I can remember. Going back to my early childhood, I recall laying in bed at night when everything around me was still, and all I could hear was this buzzing. It just felt like it was a part of me until the day I thought I was going crazy. No one else seems to have this happening to them! I remember calling my best friend, and she laughed. “You’re not crazy, it’s tinnitus!” What a relief, I had a name for it. It was just a part of me. I went about the business of accepting it.
It’s not been easy but who said life would be. Nor is it fair. Right?
Coping, distracting, even just listening to it acceptingly – these became my tools to handle what was naturally my physical state.
People think I’m weird for playing my music in the car thunderously loud. They can hear me coming from a mile away. It’s a coping mechanism, in part. To be truthful though, the other reason is that good music just naturally sounds better in the higher decibel range. Am I right?
So on the days when it’s too hard to mentally distract, I turn it up. It helps drown out the daily invasion of uncomfortable and unwanted sound. I’ve been told that repeated exposure to loud noises can make it worse. Uh huh, like I haven’t had it worse already.
This torment can be harder to cope with when I’m only surrounded by my four walls. You know, the place where I spend most of my time. Writing kinda requires it. But I’m also a person who likes to keep to herself – Read: I want to be alone! This means I must concentrate fiercely on my work or my surroundings in order not to notice what’s going on between my ears. Background noise can help ease the burden of staying on top of it, but it’s exhausting.
Every external sound I hear layers on top of this foundation of annoying buzzing, dampening it slightly. As music, noise, or voices pile on, the less the static invades my being. The more I don’t notice it, the better I’ve distanced myself from this maddening disability.
Forty-plus years after understanding what I was dealing with, the tools still work, but it’s getting harder. It’s disquieting. No pun intended.
And there is no cure.
I’ll just have to deal with it, some more.
“In other words, anxiety is the fear that is looking for a reason.”
Having dealt with anxiety for a majority of my life, this description brought on a light bulb moment for me.
Anxiety – it’s a persistent and irrational fear which takes hold of you. Grasping you tight, winding you up forcefully till you can’t breathe anymore. Or least you think you can’t. What continues to escalate it is additional irrational thoughts added to the already panicky state. This quote identifies this process as our bodies needing to justify why it’s spiraling.
Perhaps it may give me ammunition when the next attack wants to tie me up in knots or, at the very least, slow down the reaction to my meltdown because I now have a rational thought to hang on to.
I’ll let you know how it goes.
Nothing is good, everything is bad.
A most productive exclamation of feelings.
For the delivery of, but also being a witness to.
I was reminded how emotional outbursts can be an easing of my burden.
After existence becomes too much, sometimes only rage and tears
can get me back to center.