The problem with pain is that we choke ourselves on it.
It is not enough to simply feel the pain, accept it, and move on; no, we have to gorge it with reminders, stuff as many memories and associations and whatnot into its mouth until it's ready to burst. A big, slobbering behemoth of pain, crouching in our chests.
And we stroke it, too-- every self-deprecating thought we let slip past the rationality barriers in our brains is just another caress to Pain's thorny hide. What's the point? We know it doesn't help, and yet we can't stop. It's like sex, or drugs, or popping bubble-wrap. Popping the bubble-wrap makes it useless for packaging, does it not? You know this. But do you ever really want to stop once you start? Of course not! It's delicious destruction.
I keep telling myself to propel forward, keep kicking, hold my breath. But it's hard when all you want to do is sink... let that beast in your ribcage pull you to the bottom and just sleep there for the next hundred years.
Obviously, I am unbelievably frustrated right now. I wish I could just get angry. Seems like it would be a heck of a lot easier to be angry than to be understanding.
1 comment:
This is absolutely relate able. You, of all people, will pull yourself out and push ahead. And your ability to reflect on your feelings is a huge step in the right direction. I am always here to talk, all you need to do is pick up the phone. I love you very much, Ms. Silliman.
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