Writing through the block.
Write through the block. Write about the block.
My pipes have been backed up for awhile now. This would cause tremendous damage
if I was a house. But I'm not a house. I am not an inanimate structure. I am
a complex, carbon life-form with intuition, instinct, and emotion. More than
a brain - a mind. An overthinking, underfeeling at times, mind. And it's backed
up. I shut off. I shut off because the traumatic loss of an imagined healthy
life forced emotion to take a backseat to survival.
I can let small, controlled emotions in - the anger and unwanting of doctor's
visits, mri's, and medication, or occasional "why me?" breakdowns.
My experiential history dictates reaction, mourning, coping, and movement. I
can die or I can deal. And death IS an option, but it's selfish. And a cornerstone
of my life is the attempt to abandon selfishness. I CAN take care of myself
AND attempt selfless living because it is not about not thinking about my wants
and needs, it's about acknowledging the fact of pain in others and never ranking
that suffering, making mistakes and actually allowing myself the lesson of imperfection,
living WITH regret and moving beyond the regretful circumstance.
February 4, 2007