Skip to main content

the space between words

Sometimes life gets on top of me.  I am either so busy living my life or coping with something that consumes all my energy that it is almost like I become deaf.

I vaguely notice that something in my body is not working, my knee hurts, or my head pounds.  I tripped over a pile of things when I was sweeping a while back and jumped back up.  10 hours later, I started wondering, "why can't I grip anything with my left hand?"

It was not until a while later that I remembered, "oh yeah...I fell on it."

This deafness to my self causes me to block out pain and work too hard.

The voice of me inside gets so muffled I start doing things based on old information...ways I used to think, old beliefs and discarded notions.

Recently, I've had a chance to unwrap the cotton wool from around the crevices. The wool that was insulating me from me.
The padding that was allowing me to fall flat on my face and not notice until several hours later.

In the process of unwrapping the excess layers, I extracted a lot of words that had not been said because they were so strapped down by threads.

I released them. Not quickly mind you, they were pretty tangled. I released them one by one...with space between them.  They said, "hey          you,           we             have               been               trying to                         tell
             you                something.                                 Are
you
               listening
                                       now?"
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A 5 minute challenge

WifeMotherExpletive  extended an invitation I could not refuse: " Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking" on the word, Real . real is what I always strive to be.  in a hurry to be as real as possible, I've overlooked so much.  I have denied myself things that would have helped me understand things better.  real, but real for who? as I age, I want to be more real to me because I suspect that there will be many surprises. hard to believe that I will be surprised since I have lived with myself for 36 , going on 37 years, but I don't doubt it for one minute.  Honesty is where I falter.  I can achieve "real" (does it qualify as real if it is in quotation marks) but it may not be true.  In general, I want things to be tied up in a package and smooth even it is too jagged to fit.  I want this, I know that to be real, it cannot happen but I think true is what I need to really aim for.  I know some things are tru...
Post a Comment
Read more

the words fell out

 Despite being an introvert, I do often process big life events (and many many small ones) out loud by verbally hashing out my thoughts with whoever will put up with me. But this morning when I woke up to the big red blotch on the U.S. map...all my /the words fell out.  They fell out unsaid, unformed. Got to work and probably , in another time, would have annoyed my co-workers, dominating the conversation with my verbal extrusions, but not today. I just mutely stared across at them and nodded. My dad came for lunch.  Normally, we relish a good political diatribe, especially when we feel sure of our perspective, but this time, all I could do was munch on fries and marvel at all the unarticulated thoughts that I was not even bothering to retrieve. The silence inside me was noticeable.  Social media was awash with reactions and I just looked away. I couldn't bear to read one word about it. I was not receptive to any reactions,  accusations, reflections,  words...
Post a Comment
Read more

Bringing her back

 As the first anniversary finally passed, I exhaled.  The sadness still nibbled away at the edges, but not clawing deep into my chest like it had been with varying degrees of ferocity in the twelve months previously.  She died in early summer, so I plunged into ocean and lakes and ate fruit straight from the plant.  The grief became softer, the folk songs carried me along in the potato patch we planted in therapy. But then, I started to miss her.  The deep grief kept her so close and now as the pressure eased, so did her presence.  I held my breath and decided to be really sad this morning just to see her face.  To sit in her prescence.  My breath became jagged as I cried for her, for us.   This Taylor Swift cover  by Marc Maron broke me right open this morning.  Here's to staying broken open enough to keep your loved ones close. And then, I walked into her garden. The garden she envisionied, planted over and over and still pre...
Post a Comment
Read more