I wrote two brain dumps. The second one I recorded and shared with the Word Love Writing Community, Click here to join us - for the inner sanctum of all things #5for5BrainDump related. The thing is, the text disappeared and I wanted to publish something so I was left with this, the even more vulnerable writing of the two. So - dear ones. May this writing be of service. May I not be completely horrified to have shared it. And as I often say, "Perhaps no one will read it so what will it matter?" When I allow myself the space to be empty, when I leave room for silence, there is a process – sometimes shorter sometimes longer.
There is this ball of sludge. (Substance. I’m reminded of David’s ball of substance he referred to as love or source or whatever he called it specifically I don’t recall. He never actually said the word love in my presence not in the early days not in the end days, I heard him say “I love you,” on the phone to one of his eventual followers – tribe mates, whatever one calls the people he surrounded or surrounds himself with now but for me, then it was “Thank you for not making me say the things I can’t say.” That ball of sludge I name “depression” Depression for me is sludgy. It is the gumball stuck in my throat. My inability to breathe when it lodges itself there. When I have my stress cough fits, I’ve learned to relax, to pull over, turn off the car, exhile myself into the bathroom stall. “Don’t come in” as foreign other substance – not the gumball – pushes against all matter in its way from the inside out. Not pleasant. Sometimes leaves my throat to ache for days and my muscles to contort, reminding me “don’t mess with the status quo unless you want more indescribable pain.” Who wants that? Depression is something I wasn’t allowed to have. Having a relationship with depression is shameful and ugly like a boil or a zit or a walk with an ungainly limp or bad breath or any number of things that repulse or repel others. Alice is just happy to sit beside me and purr. (Poor cat, she doesn’t know I have this gumball still wreaking havoc and blocking everything and nothing. Tomorrow I was supposed to have been successful. Magical realism come to life in my life. I needed to empty that. I needed these words. I needed the words to express this. The sludgy ball of substance, like an egg can crack over my head and slime out and over me, get lost on my skin.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Julie Jordan Scottis the founder and creator of 5For5BrainDump. She has been inspiring artistic rebirth since 1999. Archives
December 2021
Categories |