FD Thornton
It was a torturous night of sleeping, waking up at least four times during the night. Even with a gentle voice reading Buddhist text in my ear, inside the fear and anxiety could still be heard over those mindful words. After the fourth time of awakening with a shout, I accepted my fate and begin to write. With my bride gently snoring by my side I began to jot down the anxious words that I feel. Words deep from the core of my mind that does battle with my amygdala, that believes beyond a reasonable doubt that nothing good will ever come.
Through circumstances beyond my control, I’m left to worry about the “what if’s” that have taken over my mind. Even with the best mindfulness training I’m often left with stress that paralyses my heart. “But why don’t you just give it to God”, some of you may ask. Well, after decades of “prayer”, “faith”, and “forgive me” the pain and anxiety time and time again. If I sound a bit cynical, it's a hard-won cynicism. Today’s attack has little to do with any physical issue as much as seeing a promise get snatched away by the powers that be.
Though a major glitch in missed communication as I was told. Things that were promised are no longer true. Adjustments have to be made and dreams that were dreamt only a few months ago now vanish like so many empty promises. So I lay here now, dealing with the anxiety of helplessness, facing an atlas that does nothing more to do than shrug. But my words are my power, and they will be heard. As I have done so many times before, I will make it through even with an amygdala still screaming inside. Demanding it’s “pound of flesh” for having any faith.
Through circumstances beyond my control, I’m left to worry about the “what if’s” that have taken over my mind. Even with the best mindfulness training I’m often left with stress that paralyses my heart. “But why don’t you just give it to God”, some of you may ask. Well, after decades of “prayer”, “faith”, and “forgive me” the pain and anxiety time and time again. If I sound a bit cynical, it's a hard-won cynicism. Today’s attack has little to do with any physical issue as much as seeing a promise get snatched away by the powers that be.
Though a major glitch in missed communication as I was told. Things that were promised are no longer true. Adjustments have to be made and dreams that were dreamt only a few months ago now vanish like so many empty promises. So I lay here now, dealing with the anxiety of helplessness, facing an atlas that does nothing more to do than shrug. But my words are my power, and they will be heard. As I have done so many times before, I will make it through even with an amygdala still screaming inside. Demanding it’s “pound of flesh” for having any faith.
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