It’s 3:40 in the morning, I’ve been up for about an hour. Mostly feeling pressure in my gut, with the occasional heart palpitation. I don’t worry about it too much, it’s just the same old, same old. I figured I’ve been due a few days like this after the last few weeks. I mentioned earlier to a young friend, that I don’t let troubles bother me much as they happen. It’s usually afterwards that the pressure finally settles on me in the form of some physical reaction.
But it is what it is, 21 years after being diagnosed with Panic Disorder, Chronic Depression, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. You either accept those fact or bury them away in your prideful mind. Both mindsets will lead you down similar but different paths. I consider my stories the creation of my more logical side. While my poetry is the creation of my more emotional side. Lately my poetic side has taken over, giving me some release from my troubled mind.
As I lay here, I accept the release my words give me. Writing is my meditation. The words flow freely, much easier than they have in years past. I’ve noticed that the more pride I let go of, the more content and accepting my mind gets. So many of us live in this bubble of rules. Believing that “herd mentality” will eventually set us free, well I don’t know about that. While the world lives by a very strict genetic code. There are so many outside forces that twist and pull at each living thing. That life eventually turns into it’s own unique puzzle. Whereby adapting to circumstance is the key to survival.