Monday, April 15, 2013

External Forces

    So many times I have wished that I could shelter myself from the brutal impact of external forces. As strong as Body is, it is not strong enough to deflect the myriad of external forces that batter at Brain and Spirit. I have felt under constant assault for far too long, and am not only battle weary but suffering from PTSD. I have become brittle and over-reactive. Only my stubborn will, coupled with dogged determination, as kept me upright and moving forward. I am fighting to alter my surroundings, remove myself from the situations that are most likely to beat holy hell out of me. One by one, I have managed, through sheer force of will and sacrifice, to rid myself of external forces that are toxic, negative, unhealthy, unhappy, bleak, dismal, and soul sucking. I have rid myself of many, but there are more waiting in line, holding their place in the queue for their chance to to be the next jack-booted thug to kick me in the teeth and toss me in the ditch. You would think that after so many years, so many attempts to beat my psyche into submission, that these bullyboys would have learned that I am not one to surrender to their heavy-handed ministrations. The best I can hope for is that I can out-stubborn them. The downside is that there is only one of me, and a seemingly endless supply of these thuggish external forces. They tag team me. Leaving me lying in a heap as they chuckle at ringside, watching me stagger to my feet, wipe the blood from my nose, and give them my best steely stare. They laugh, and send in a fresh fighter. I tell myself that it is fresh meat, a target rich environment. But I am lying to myself in a vain attempt to keep myself upright and slugging it out. If I could just beat back these hooligan external forces, keep upright long enough for the bleeding to stop, maybe a chance for a sip of water. But they just keep coming. Well, you know what? Come at me, bro, bring it on. I will do my g'damn best to keep hitting back. But damn, I am tired.

Friday, April 12, 2013


    One of my finely honed skills is the ability to internalize emotions, thoughts, rants, raves, and near psychotic breaks. I keep myself on a very tight rein, and wish I didn't have to. I want to unleash the Whirlwind, in full public view, without censor. But I can't. Too much hinges on my ability to practice restraint. Instead the Whirlwind rages in my heart, mind, and soul. I feel it bruising and battering, pounding on the shell that is me, seeking escape, screaming for freedom. The brutality of it can leave me trembling, exhausted, nauseated. My head pounds, my stomach churns, my blood burns. My vision is effected, tinging the world with red. My mouth is dry, acrid. I feel as if I have swallowed a spoonful of lye. This is a near daily occurrence  at different levels of intensity. Sometimes the Whirlwind is more bluster, at others it is full blown, gale force, EF-5 tornado leveling everything in its path. That was the weather report for today. EF-5. The internal carnage is devastating. The aftermath will take days to clear. I want to unleash the furies that are held so tightly within, to let them exhaust their energies pounding against something other than my psyche. But I can't. It cannot be allowed. Not now. Not in the foreseeable future. So retain my grip, hold the reins tight in both hands, grit my teeth, and  hope I can ride it out.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013


    I write, here on this page, this blog, this little world within my brain that I have chosen to nakedly share with the world, not to seek help, or sympathy, or, gods forbid, pity. I write because it is one sure way to rid Brain of the weird randomness that rolls around inside, battering on skull in an attempt to escape and wreak havoc on my world, my real world. I also write, flaying myself open for all to see, so that others might read and feel less alone. I know too well the feeling of my strange aloneness, that feeling of always being the outsider, the square peg, and I also know that there is nothing wrong with that. It is who I am. It is how I feel. I do not seek to change vital aspects of my Self that make me who I am. True, I do sometimes wish I cold walk into any room and feel like I owned it, owned the crowd, instead of faking my way through many social gatherings, presenting the tough, confident, self assured exterior. Those who know me know how fragile that facade can be. I have friends who know that I have a limit to how much, or how little, time I can spend in social gatherings before becoming exhausted and brittle. That is when Brain tunes everything out, voices become unintelligible white noise, as if Brain is overflowing and cannot accept any more input. Like a glass filled to overflowing. Yes, I hide this well, too. I will reach a point when I want to sneak away, find a dark corner to just sit, quietly and in the quiet, but I know if I find that space, I am not likely to leave it willingly. It is me. It is who I am.
    I also write, here on these pages, to sort through what often feels like chaos, constant noise, the garbled ramblings of my own voices. Truly it is just too many thoughts all vying for attention, clamoring, wanting to be heard. It is difficult to sort through at times. That is why I write. It is also why I exercise, nothing sorts through the chaos like the monotony of swimming lap after lap, or cycling and counting revolutions, or running and being lulled by the metronome of my steps. It is soothing. Soothing like the ticking of a clock, or the purr of a cat. Today, if I could, I would sequester myself away, lock myself in, and write. I would avoid all contact, all social interaction. But not today. I would if I could, but I can't today. So I will put up the facade and go out to face the world. It is what I do. It is who I am. Me, for better or worse, just me. And I like me that way.