Usually it’s nothing more than the tiniest drop can cause a ripple. A ripple that spreads to the farthest reaches of the pond. Within my mind that ripple spreads, nothing major just an insignificant twinge or feeling. That spreads like dry kindling through my mind. Igniting thousands of tiny fires of fear that can flare up like an uncontrollable blaze. That takes my entire being hours to put out. Leaving me too spent and exhausted to do much of anything else.
It started with nothing but my constant getting up and going to the bathroom. Then there’s the twitching and cramping in my hand and arm. Then there’s the small traces of blood that come from blowing my nose. Each little thing insignificant, yet inconvenient enough to awaken me from a deep sleep. Was that a twinge of my heart? It feels as of it’s slowing down. So there it is tiny dustings of the truth that seed the fear and feed the panic in my soul.
If you dig into my early work, you find stories such as these, only in greater depth and far less control. At the moment I know what is happening. I’ve spent decades of my life avoiding and facing this time and time again. And yet in these nearly 25 years of diagnosis, I still can’t give you the solution. Oh, I can show you formulas, methods, and medications I’ve used. But nothing near what I would call a definitive answer. So I lay here restlessly typing away, giving you my priest my confession. Hammering out with all the honesty I can muster my story of interconnection. Of how, my heart, my mind, and my body are effected by the tiny fires burning in the deepest parts of my brain.
It started with nothing but my constant getting up and going to the bathroom. Then there’s the twitching and cramping in my hand and arm. Then there’s the small traces of blood that come from blowing my nose. Each little thing insignificant, yet inconvenient enough to awaken me from a deep sleep. Was that a twinge of my heart? It feels as of it’s slowing down. So there it is tiny dustings of the truth that seed the fear and feed the panic in my soul.
If you dig into my early work, you find stories such as these, only in greater depth and far less control. At the moment I know what is happening. I’ve spent decades of my life avoiding and facing this time and time again. And yet in these nearly 25 years of diagnosis, I still can’t give you the solution. Oh, I can show you formulas, methods, and medications I’ve used. But nothing near what I would call a definitive answer. So I lay here restlessly typing away, giving you my priest my confession. Hammering out with all the honesty I can muster my story of interconnection. Of how, my heart, my mind, and my body are effected by the tiny fires burning in the deepest parts of my brain.
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