Oh yes, I know the brittle and crucial attacks on my mind. The change and growth. The learning and the formation of new wiring in place. I have reached great depths. My health, the pull only I can give me. Combine the two, and I am no longer battling myself.
There’s still an air of change that the strands of my hair can feel. This is one of those braver, launch out to the world posts- where as two nights ago I was on my bedroom floor, my eyes leaking a fresh batch.
It is not a rolling lawn, hilly field scene. It is cliffs, jutted out rocks, grass and sand.
I walk the grasses of eager and strength and without even having time to lose my footing, I’m falling down a hole that has sandpaper walls.
I’m getting tired of these frantic and draining surprises.
It’s not like I’m getting better at them.
I’ll have to make the necessary adjustments, realign my path and try something different. I cannot continue doing the same things and expect a different outcome.
Hence, the change my hair strands can feel.
Convincing yourself of general happiness.
I’ve had waves of attacking life as it is, recently. By vigoursly being happy with it all. With choices and attitude; and accepting that it is like that and that it is fine like that.
The battle to change big parts of self, seems like exhaust of failed effort.
That I am not winning it.
Taking a different approach seems like a valuable idea.
Actions that are more doable are not necessarily the best of ones,I know.
But I will continue making excuses about my weak and wavering temple of mind.
Not feeling ready to change or not wanting to or because the difficulty level is at a maximum.
Is is because of my current position in life?
Am I trying to run against a current that I haven’t even been able to walk in?
Perhaps letting the current slow, or walking to a place where the white caps are more like ripples and the rocks more like mud, is the better alternative.
And going with the flow instead of against, even a better one.
Getting to a place or creating a space in mind that tells me I’m not battling, but simply living- and loving it.
Oh, how far down can one get when the struggle is only weakening the player.
Before the weakness becomes the injured. The defeated.
A lot of strength comes from pushing through. From riding those waves of uncertainty with direction and purpose. Not changing their momentum or curve, but changing the perception of position.
For if that is where ones mind is strong- in the ability to warp perception and believe in it, then boldness and unwobbled legs will manifest.
And the deepest pool is mind juice.
Where swimming in that stuff long enough does more than just wrinkle skin.
Like quicksand, the harder you flail, the more you move, the faster you sink.
Today I thought I was getting chloroformed.
I’ve come to know Thai culture pretty well, but today was my first encounter with the pure belief that I might be in the process of getting knocked out.
When she pressed the cold menthol smelling cloth over my face my first instinct was to rip it off and leap up. I may have even moved an inch todo so.
But I get into mental games of my own very quick sometimes and so I stayed still and decided that at the slightest feeling of faint or dizzy, I would bolt. I even thought of what positions my legs were in and whether or not I should move them to make for a faster leap.
I had whoations of panic. I was feeling light headed, wasn’t I?
She had looked at me oddly upon entry into the massage room, hadn’t she? She would have stolen my phone by now, wouldn’t she have?
These questions genuinely laced themselves into my brain current.
I made the very conscious effort to control my breathing and after each intake, I did a quick assessment.
I didn’t wake up in the back of a covered pick up truck. I didn’t wake bound in ropes or in a pit of snakes.
I didn’t even wake
because I didn’t even sleep.
I didn’t know what chloroform smelled like, but I do now because I looked it up thinking that if ever such an event happened again, and it WAS the real thing, I would know.
Last week I went to a very dark place.
For four days I stayed inside those walls.
I was aware of all the things I should do, that I needed to do in order to be better. But I didn’t care and I became numb to things and I went out for hours at a time drinking and wandering and not even feeling alone..but.. helpless.It’s an odd idea. To have such a detailed awareness of what I need to do, and then to actually feel unable. To feel the in ability and to know that I’m making it up. That it’s all me.That I’m the one making the problem, enlarging the issue. Im the one being ridiculous and child-like and yet… I feel too weak to change it.
I began to blame every little difficult thing-like the way Zeeks bag wouldn’t zip up on the first try, or tripping over wires, if Zeek cried for more than two minutes- I blamed that on the fact that it was because I was here in Thailand. I began to get angry and I didn’t even realise it was happening.
I had felt that I would be able to get on track and get involved and do more things with Zeek outside of the home. I really believed I would.
And then. It kept on not happening. I kept telling myself I was happy working on my videos and pictures and that if I could just get those done I would feel better.
But I just got in deeper. So deep that before I knew it, I was shutting down and walking with this cement structure around myself, ignoring Morgan and doing the minimal with Zeek.
Light could not enter my space. And I don’t think I even wanted it too. For the first time in my entire life, I actually felt incapable of fixing anything. Incapable of breaking the cube, of being happy. I felt life slide from my finger tips and my lack of care became what I breathed everywhere I went. I stopped eating and using drink, I both mentally and emotionally exhausted myself.
I knew I needed to be better and I knew Morgan and Zeek didn’t deserve to be treated the way I was treating them. I knew I was failing and I just got more angry at myself. I was miserable. I didn’t even feel alone. There was a layer of numbness to everything else I felt. I was unable to be the person I wanted. I hated that I had created this room and the person I was being inside of it.
I hated it, yet I felt I could not escape it..
In the meantime I of course stopped all contact with my family and my mother worried and wanted to talk but I felt like doing nothing of the sort and I stopped emailing the few people I was because silly this, the wait time for responses had me going wild.
I removed myself from any light because I felt all it did was make the issue less raw and I needed it to be raw in order for me to come to this point.
You would think after five years of living abroad I would have accepted being away from Canada but it isn’t the case. I guess that’s partly where all the phases and stages come in.
I have reaccepted my stay here and I have reevaluated my time and I’m kind of ready to not sulk here anymore. I’m okay.
Because it got me to a desperate make believe,four walled room where enough dizzying circles would have resulted in me being put on a plane without my son and flown to my home country where counselling sessions would have been forced into my brain space.
Sometimes I guess, we need refreshing. Sometimes we need to defrag our computers, delete various people on Facebook we don’t even know anymore and dye our hair. Sometimes we need to make big changes in order for us to continue- or even to be – happy.