Written Whispers

Ah, lots of little fishies swimming around inside my head. Some are story ideas, ranging from big to small and often brightly colored. Others are daily thoughts, mostly the same color as the rest of the water inside my brain and hardly giving me any reason to notice them more than the usual. There are memories, some dark with sharp teeth and others full of light, following up closely behind the former to repair any damages they might cause.

Others still are ‘random’, sticking out oddly in the usual school of mental wildlife and catching my usual inattention roughly. This last breed of fish troubles me the most. Wherever they swim the tides within me are disrupted and turned, all my other little fishies following heedlessly whether I bid them to or not and sometimes I don’t even know they’ve changed direction.

It’s very disturbing but the more I look at it the more all my other little fishies are swimming around trying to rationalize whatever they can and incorporate these random fish into the usual swing of things. And as much as my more logical fish are working with common day methods and perfectly square theories to fit this other species in, the fish that contain my more spiritual thoughts are also working hard. Instead of bending the random fish to the tides they’re changing their own course to match that of theirs without actually following in their wake.

Two separate halves of my reasoning, spirit and logic, trying two different methods to conquer this mental infestation of things beyond my conscious control. It’s like I’m watching a war unfolding inside my head and though I know it’s happening, it’s like another part of me is on the sideline of my thoughts- watching it all happen in real and lagging time.

I feel separated, split.

All these broken shards that I never knew were so far apart until they started piecing themselves back together and the glass begins to grind on all the many sharpened sides. The fish swim in and out, regardless. All of them. They don’t care what part/shard of me they are sifting through, my thoughts are my thoughts but like stained glass in a church- the sun is still the sun but it can take on so many different colors depending on what precise bit of glass the rays are being seen through. My mental fishies are the same way. Still mine but so different as they pass through all the facets of me.

The random fishies, the new species, are the only ones out of place as they try to force the shards apart. They’ve always been there but it’s like the ocean. Just looking at it you don’t see the fish. But take the ocean and shrink it while leaving everything within the same at the same size… suddenly you’ll see the heaps upon heaps of fish.

My head isn’t shrinking but as the bits of broken glass come together, reforming the fragile thing I once was… they’re no longer spread apart. They take up less room within and so as they come together I suddenly see all the things that have taken up residence in the cracks- those other fish who’d rather I not disturb their home.

I was broken a long time ago. No one person or event broke me, though I do have my suspicions, but I still fractured into a bunch of dazzling pieces like a vase that started to chip until it was too frail and was eventually bumped off the table by consequence. Since then I have been picked up- my pieces arranged on the table for me to see as the special people in my life came through one right after another, each taking a shard and putting it into the proper spot.

Only time and my own willingness can fit me back together so each piece remains where it is on the table. It’s where it needs to be and I can see the design of who I’m supposed to be clearly but no one piece is close enough for me to glue it into place yet- ready for the final placement to make me who I need to be- the beautiful fragile vase we all start out as regardless of cracks and chips and the bits that can never be put back together.

I want to be that vase but the fishies, the ones that don’t belong are getting in the way. The closer the glass comes to being placed the more obvious they become. The safer I feel the more afraid I realize I am and the more whole I become the more broken I realize I’ve been. The knowing in itself is what threatens to tear me apart.

The more I know about the new fish, the more my other fish see them and spread the word like wildfire through the tides, the more chaos there is. It’s like an infection. Every mental fish of mine carries some knowledge, interpretation, idea, suggestion, opinion, or perception of the new breed. It’s everywhere and I can get it out of my head.

Part of me is trying to trick me, maybe it’s the random fish or maybe it’s one of the more cracked shards of myself. Either way I find myself going back and forth on an issue that rather complicates things. Some of my fish, trained by the tides of my past are worried that my perceptions are wrong, that I am wrong, and that I am constantly lying to myself. These are of course the same mental fish who made me sit with chest pains for hours before telling my Hubby something was wrong only because I didn’t know if it was a trick I was playing on myself or not. These fish I call doubt, preprogrammed by those who so often told me it was day when it was night until I started to believe I was the one who was wrong.

These doubt fish try to tell me I’m perceiving things wrong again even though I know I’ve seen and heard these other newer fish. I’ve felt the effects they have on me and they’ve frightened me. It’s like they tell me I’m imaginarily frightened of a figment of a fear though I know I’ve felt the fear.

It’s all so confusing.

I doubt any of this made sense to anyone but at the same time I don’t care. I’m not sure if I was trying to make sense or going for vague, maybe both made their way through. Anyways, I’m done for the night.

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 9th, 2009 at 8:50 am and is filed under Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.