there’s a paralysis i’ve been unable to talk about. i’m hoping that writing this out, posting it in public, just putting it out there, will do something to break this deadlock. i try and talk about it with people around me, but they don’t hear me though. i seem to portray this image of ceaseless hustle, always being on the grind, but right now, it’s not true at all.
i’m frozen, suspended. up ended.
there’s reprieve, blips of fantastical times on another plane, indoors between four walls, cocooned in love and protection, surrounded by amulets and emotions. you are my holiday. and although i physically leave a space, mentally i’m tenacious in remaining.
the return to the real isn’t happening which is problematic. i haven’t been this scared in years. i don’t know what the source of the fear is, possibility maybe. failure too.
i’ve tried every little trick i know, from exercise to setting myself up. throwing myself into lifestyle changes to produce an illusion of change and movement results in selective agoraphobia. the only survival behaviour that remains is avoidance.
i alternate between choosing to shelter myself and choosing to provoke, poking at my playdead body with a sharpened stick. it hurts, so i curl up tighter.
today, i live between parentheses. i need to move into the body of text, embody text, bodied in text. and i don’t know how to do that.
it’s been hard, challenging. and the more i seem to want to leave escape flee, the more helpless i feel. forget the magic, i’m at the point of needing cathartic.
and all underlined by this huge feeling of shift control delete. i need to know where to how to turn.