Control is an illusion, and the fight against reduction is perpetual.
I remember planning my future, where I’d go to college, what I’d study, and how my future career would allow for some flexibility for the unexpected. It was a logical, researched and well-thought-out plan.
I’ve come to realize much of the anxiety, distress, and ultimately dis-ease in my life originated from my stubbornness to follow this plan at all costs. The amount of energy expended trying to control my life depleted my ability to respond to the inevitable “shit show.”
It takes great restraint to focus my efforts on what is happening right now rather than attempting a stranglehold on the cornucopia of “what ifs.” Now, my plan is like following a map to a destination unbeknownst to me. The map helps guide me, but I must find my own way.
The tangled mass of vibrant colors shooting out of the head represents the struggle to make sense of the traumatized mind. Surviving each day is challenging enough, but we are then faced with explaining the sensation to others.
The stress, hurt, and fear piles on creating a jagged mountain of distress. Then, all it takes is a feather landing on top or a whisper of breath for it all to come tumbling down. The taste of blood in the back of my throat, a raging migraine, and my heart beating out of my chest – the consequences of holding it all in for so long. Afterward, there is clarity and motivation to carry on.
Today, music is what I need.