Another Episode of Panic

I want to turn back. I’m bobbing in the ocean like an empty coke bottle. I see no land, there’s nothing but water…. everywhere. I want to turn back, but where would I turn?

That’s how I’m feeling. That’s exactly how I’m feeling about this blog. Like I can’t do this.

In my mind the voices, all of a sudden, they’re quiet. Since when? Since never. I know how crazy this sounds, but I have to write it down. The words can’t always be eloquent and wise, I have to shut out the imagined audience and just write. Introducing the trickiest and occasionally most malicious group of pranksters ever— the voices of my mind.

When I am trying to be sociable or professional or when I’m trying to meditate or when I’m trying to read or when I’m trying to lend a listening ear, the voices DO NOT SHUT UP. But now, when I have work to do, when I am trying to order my thoughts and get something on the page, when I’m trying to gauge my heart, connect with ideas and root out feelings ….

Oh well, wow— huh. I’ll be damned, all of a sudden, for the first time in the history of never, just nothing. My mind hates me. It’s true. Unless I capitulate, do things which are familiar, keep things as they are, live life the way I have always lived. Then it’s all love. But this. Absolutely unsanctioned, is what I’m gathering from the silence. Overruled, they cry.

I’m fighting myself through this. I keep looking at the previous posts and I want to delete them all. Especially the one where I show teeth. Ugh! This is … (deep breath) …(clench teeth) …. my mind is fighting me on this. I kid you not, I want to scream right now. But I won’t. I’m doing this. I don’t care. I’m doing this.

I keep wanting to convince myself that this is a mistake, that all I have to do is turn around, pretend I didn’t almost drown, and backtrack to the safety of dry land. But I don’t want to and as a result, my mind thinks it can punish me into panic with its silence. And it’s working, I’m questioning my self, disapproving of nearly all the words on the page, saying, Oh wow missy, maybe this time you’ve gone too far?

Yeah, I know I have gone too far. Who does this? Who tussles with her inner-bully and puts it on the blog? A crazy girl like me, that’s who. It’s a risk and I know it makes me look pretty nuts, but a little voice is telling me to tease it out, follow my yo-yo thinking and see where it takes me. I would love the writing to be deft and incisive, but this is what I have, this power struggle with my self. Becoming Maria? Whyyy? That’s what my mind is saying- You already are HER. Let’s not do this.

But I think I should keep going. Besides, since when does becoming occur with pristine accuracy? Hello!?! Has anybody ever seen the site of a building being constructed? Dirt and debris everywhere. Childbirth? Ew! Messy. Erecting a statue? Painting a picture? Getting sober? Messy messy messy. Becoming takes time and sometimes it will be messy.

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I want to turn back, but I won’t. I may not always show teeth or sagacity or full face, and the voices in my head might stage their occasional mutinous rebellion, but I will show up for any smidgen of becoming I can eke out here.

 

 

[Honestly? I hate to hit publish, but …. ugh! Doing it anyway]