head amputation

I remember the fear very clearly as I progressed though therapy and the unpacked all those dark secrets in my head.

I was so used to wrestling with the night demons that sanity was a unfamiliar realm that scared me.

I sat fidgeting in my chair, as the burr with my soul chaffed on my soul.

His brown eyes squinted at me as he watched me fight with. Debating if he should speak first or let me open the conversation.

At last I launched into a long list of concerns and feelings and observations about how I was doing.

He let me ramble on uninterrupted.

When I happened to notice a smile lighting up his face I paused in my dissertation.

"P..." he said smiling bigger. "It sounds to me like your describing being happy."

"Well I don't like it!" I shouted back, "It's...unsetting."

"New ground, you will learn to be comfortable here."

"Ugghh." I groaned.

and we worked on learning to live in the sane world.

My biggest fear at that time was the extremely close connection between my writing and my mental state. I feared that my writing would weaken and loose its punch if I were "sane."

My writing did change.

I feel it got stronger.

I am facing that same issue again.

This time the medication has dulled that part of me who writes. I feel like a master painter who has had both armed amputated and my brain is screaming PAINT!!!

To have the talent and be able to express it is like an bird with its wings clipped. I know I belong to the sky, but can't fly.

I want to stop the buspirone, which is causing this.

I don't want to return to the 24/7 anxiety that this medication dulls.

So I am left trying to express the writer within through an occluded channel.

I am going to try to force the issue by focused writing this week.  See if I can't find a breach in the medication shield. Find a way to write in this head space, to learn to co-exist within medicated sanity.

So in other words...incoming boring posts for the week....