This week, I dove DEEP into my mind. I wrestled and wriggled and fought with myself. I straddled extremes and struggled to land in the middle. A symptom of this condition, I wrote two things. One - a gentler take. A description of the place I want to be, instead of the mind cavern I’ve been wandering through. The other - the cavern itself. The harsher environment and what it feels like to be there. I flip-flopped back and forth, a little of this, a little of that, unsure which was IT. That paralyzing uncertainty is all too familiar, so I’m choosing the third way. Here are both, co-existing.

Something Softer

I want something softer.

Something softer

than sticking my hand in the sharps bin of my mind.

Something easier

than wading through thoughts lined with booby traps and black holes.

I want to bathe in warm sand. 

Curves cradled, floating

in an ocean of shifting dunes.

Wearing each tiny grain like a stand-alone diamond.

Touching twinkling stars in a sky of smooth skin.

Lying peacefully under the blanket of the setting sun 

that falls and rises each day like slow, even breath.

Trusting the sky to stay open and the ground to stay firm,

I can rest.

The magic of nature’s wiser hand

carries me beyond my wildest dreams

and through my willful-est worries. 

There’s something about being humbled

that makes me feel safe. 

A cosmic smirk woven into every thread.

A pattern I don’t understand,

but must have a place in.

The Part of Me That Wants to Hurt

There’s a part of me that wants to hurt, that insists on it. It’s not as loud as it used to be. It’s not as much of me as it used to be. Usually, it’s not even there. But when it’s there, it reminds me of when it was all of me. When I was drowning in the fog. When I would lay down and pray to be taken, somewhere quiet.

Relief. I craved reprieve from an inside world that didn’t relent. It cast its shadow on the outside world, too. Every interaction threatened to confirm my worst suspicions. The walls closed in around my smallest parts.

Escape. I wanted to be anywhere other than where I was. But I couldn’t leave my body, so I shut the windows and boarded the doors. Might as well be swallowed into darkness. 

I visit this boarded up house from time to time. My nails remember scratching at the walls. My voice knows pleading to no one to let me out. If I stay for too long, I can feel the shrinking. My options narrow to two: explode into chaos or delete my existence. There is nothing between. There is no right amount of space to take up. It’s all, or none. There is no some. Some is too fragile. Some is too scary. Some doesn’t compute. And yet, life is lived in the some. Life hurts some. My body gets tired some. My mind slows down some. People move closer, and further away. And on it goes. No final rest. No perfect solution. The part of me that wants to hurt wants self-destruction, if it can’t have self-transcendence. Just being my self seems impossible.

I often find myself 

bouncing from track to track,

never letting the train take me.

Hovering over the controls, 

unsure which knob to turn.

The choice I don’t realize I’m making 

is to stay above ground.

To avoid digging in 

and getting my hands dirty.

I want to be covered in mud.

But not here. And not like this.

Someday.

For now, I’ll keep carrying this shovel, 

in search of just the right spot,

wondering what it would feel like

to move Earth.

To give birth

to raw pursuit.

Who would I be on the other side?

What has to die

for Life to find its way through me?

There’s freedom in joining the tide.

You can rest your head

cuz your Soul 

is rooted.

Control is fruitless,

It steals your Juice-ness.

So close your eyes and take a bite. 

We’re here 

to be 

ALIVE.

Even writing this, I found myself caught between possibilities. Trying to imagine which word would land with an imaginary reader. Just up in my own head with ghosts. Truth is, I have NO IDEA. And no amount of grinding my gears will make me know. There are times when careful planning and minding the details are essential. But many more times, I’m driving myself crazy, pouring out energy, wrestling with the 2%, thinking it’s going to make or break the other 98. The pursuit of perfection leaves us burnt out and discouraged. Sometimes, we need a break. Sometimes, we need to let time offer perspective. Sometimes, we need to just decide it’s done and move on. But it’s easy to flail around in the frustration loop. It seems like complete satisfaction is just one forceful brain-rack out of reach. That’s exactly when it’s time to put it down, stand up, and be done. Maybe for now. Maybe for ever. I feel it right now as I type. I’m tired. My brain hurts. But the mystical Perfect Blog Post is just one sentence away! Nah.