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| Praying At The Alter Of Untold Things limited series by Crystal Marie (neubauer) |
My mind is screaming "Stop! Stop!" "Everything is going too fast! Everything is taking too long!" My sense of shame and self-condemnation is amped up today. My inner critic, self-saboteur, is in full on hyper-control mode.
That's an interesting connection, I don't think I would have made it if I wasn't watching myself write these words on this page. The numbing place, it is about control. The feeling of safety.
When I am afraid, I hide. What am I afraid of?
I've disconnected from myself. Pulled in. Hiding in an effort to find relief from the finger of accusation - the one that chants "you're not good enough. you're not good enough. you're not good enough." whenever I slow down enough to tune in.
It stings in spite of it's familiarity. It's too much to confront it. To look at it head on leaves me vulnerable to all kinds of things I'm not sure how to face.
So I numb.
Feed it the lollipop of the 21st century - my phone. What a soothing sensation it is when I scroll.
Scroll. Scroll.
Inner scream.
Scroll.
Scroll.
Scroll.
Until gently I numb that thing to sleep.
It wakes me this morning before I am ready. Bouncing on the bed, eager to remind me of my inferiority. My status beneath. It pokes my cheeks, tries to pry my eyes open. Fake whispers "Are you sleeping?? Wake up! You're not asleep! Wake up!!"
I hand it my phone.
Two cups of coffee later, I am ready. I take the phone away and pick up a pen. Determined to get to the bottom of this, I write until the passing of time slows to a pace that matches the heartbeat of my own rhythm.
Write. Write.
Astonishing insight and connection.
Write.
Write.
Write.
I write until the numbers on the calendar no longer serve as a cruel wake up call to how much time I've lost in the numbing.
Here in this place, is a celebration of just how much I've lived.
It's amazing what the mind-body connection can do. I've battled depression and anxiety since 5th grade, so I definitely understand the need to "check out" at times, especially when things are too stimulating. I also have chronic illnesses that probably went undiagnosed way too long and contributed to my mental health. I get into states that I know my brain is lying to me. In middle school, I fully admitted that as long as I can tell when my brain is lying to me, I can survive anything. It'll only be the day I can't see through it's lies that I could be defeated. Until then, I'll probably need to continue the cycle of numbing, checking back in with life, etc. I will say that this kind of numbing is not because of substance abuse, at least in my case, it was a coping mechanism, developed young in life in order to face the horrors my mind was telling me and not give in to it's relentlessness. So, I say, you do you girl. Anything and everything you need to. No one is ever able to completely understand what another is going through, despite the kind souls that try. I've told my mom, my best friend, and now my husband that all they need to know is that my brain lies, compulsively, and when I'm breaking down, that's what I need them to remind me. They've never let me down. BTW, my diagnoses now include OCD, which does run in our family, but it adds an extra element of fun to everything else. I take it all with a laugh, because what's my other choice? Sending very gentle, all-consuming hugs. (The kind where you don't hurt and everything else leaves your mind and you're at peace, even for the time of that hug.)
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