Wednesday, March 19, 2014
So much ricochets around inside my skull, seeking a way out, an escape into the sunlight. Too much. When I swim I manage to quiet my mind, mostly. Lap after lap, concentrating on stroke mechanics, hearing nothing bu the sounds of my hands dipping into the water and the bubbles of my own, rhythmic breathing. It is a good time for Brain to shut the hell up. Cycling is much the same, with my legs pumping in steady cadence, sweat pouring off my body, muscles pleasantly burning, mind quelled as I concentrate on smooth technique. There is always too much to think about, to analyze, dissect, flay, vivisect. I see the correlation between my drive for physical strength, and my inner fragility. I hate that I am fragile, delicate, sometimes brittle. I want to be strong, supple, powerful. I know I hide myself away, avoiding situations that might reveal my inner weaknesses. This has become reflexive, protective, self-preservation. I seem to have a talent for extending myself at the wrong moment, in the wrong place, maybe in the wrong way, and I bear the brunt of the backlash. It has made me reactive, over-reactive, flinchy, twitchy, gun-shy. Once burned, twice shy. Well, more than once burned, but who's counting? I have decided to truly listen to my inner voice, finally. Instead of rushing along, diving in too deep, leaping before I look, I have come to the the realization that I am just too damned fragile to risk that part of me that is most easily harmed. Instead I will continue on, making Body a sacred fortification to shelter the delicate Id, that part of me that is so susceptible to whim, desire, unthinking action. That part of me that takes me on dangerous trips where I lay my heart on the line. That inner voice that sings the Siren's song, luring me to take the plunge and likely drown in the cold, dark depths. Body is strong, powerful, protective, the rest of me is delicate, brittle, fragile. I will heed common sense that tells me to shelter the fragile Me, the delicate Id. For once, I will listen to that voice that tells me I am too easily broken to take risks. Once again, I build a protective shell, to keep myself whole and sane.