Splits

April 5, 2011 § Leave a comment

There are times when I can feel my mind and body split apart. This weekend was one of them, as that little tear in my lower back (as I know it now) split open once again and brought me as close to standstill as I’ll probably ever be. That’s something I’ve long-known that I can’t deal with. Becoming stationary jams everything up, there’s nowhere to run to, there’s nothing to hide behind. It usually happens when I have to step out of the scene I expected. It used to be traveling home to a house that reminded me of confinement. Other times, in west wales where I gave myself up entirely to the rules of another, hoping that they were better than mine. And this weekend, when my body ceased to function, it happened again.

Split apart, I can see the differences between my head and my body. My head says it wants to be healthy, wants to be slim (okay, thin), wants to release this hold on control and love as it wishes, but only as it can conceive of it.

My body cries out for me to relax. It goes along for the ride and holds on tight as far as it can but eventually snaps. A bout of flu (snap), a tear in my back (snap), tiredness that stops me moving (snap). And always- always- my head equates love and nourishment with what I put in my mouth and tried to rationalize pain or discomfort or confusion. Or, if nothing else, grasp control of my body by feeding by some self-conceived nonsense of rules.  Often, this is just the abuse that keeps my body in further discomfort.

Another split. This morning time and logic split apart and I found myself reading messages from days gone by. From the present moment, I watched myself bow down and ask for forgiveness for hurting. Beg for someone else to appease or forget what was torturing me and make it go away. My pain was all mine and my doing, but agency was waiting to be bestowed. However, in another’s dismissal of that agony, those feelings merely dropped like a stone to the pit of my stomach. Such crystalised stones are sometimes forgotten briefly, but they are not digested. They gall, though occasionally they try to pass. Upwards or downwards, in both directions they are blocked by me inability to regurgitate and reject them, or digest and diminish them. All the while, there is unrest in my stomach and I cannot settle it.

This weekend the stones had piled up to make me sick and the split of my body from my mind highlighted just how out of touch I am with either. Release was all that there could be, but all that came was water. Tears which felt inadequate. There is so much stored up that it feels like blood should come out. But this weekend, several times, there were tears. And that, for now, will have to be enough.

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