Reaching deep inside of myself and grabbing some horror or other by the scruff of the neck. Then wresting the damn thing to the ground and pinning it down. Or to put it in more moderate and realistic terms, writing about traumatic events, is an extremely difficult yet rewarding process.
Or perhaps not so much rewarding as necessary and valuable. That is unless the relief of having an abscessed tooth pulled from your jaw, for instance. Is to be considered a rewarding experience.
Regardless of the definition or analogy used, the end result is what it is nonetheless. An injury treated is always to be considered desirable. And the relief of pain and distress is always welcome. Even if the administration of said relief is in itself a difficult experience. And even if that relief is but transient and limited in effect.
There is a certain degree of empowerment in taking adverse events and pulling them inside out and dissecting them. Or in other words, turning them into art.
There is an agency to be claimed, a degree of ownership to be seized. And the plain brass tacks fact of the matter is, I can talk about things in semi autobiographical fiction, which I doubt I will ever be able to speak frankly about in real life.
Some words are still too painful to say yet. And some memories too excruciating to remember. But I’m getting there. Somewhere.
But, who really knows. There are no practical limits to the pain barrier concerning traumatic events. I suppose you just keep fighting until the day you die.
And this statement is nowhere near as bleak as it may sound at face value. No more so than the simple fact that you keep learning until the day you die. Or you don’t stop breathing until….well, you get it.
But be all this as it may be, I am on a quest. And the holy grail is recovery and something resembling completeness. A certain unity of self. Or perhaps a degree of intellectual and emotional cleanliness. A purging of my blood perhaps.
I guess trauma is a little like heavy metal poisoning. Once that element is in your blood, it is there for good and all. And you either find a way to live with it, or you spend the rest of your days dying.
And not to put too fine a point on it, fuck that.
And today’s lesson for me is allowing and accepting and even expressing anger. I do not want anger. I recoil from those things which prompt me to feel it. And the truth is, I shrink from expressing it.
But I do not mean to allow it to consume me. So express it I will. I have practiced this principle and put it into action here.
Thank you for reading.
Love
Whippoorwill XO
I couldn’t agree with you more.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That is very encouraging.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Omg I am so very very very proud of you. I don’t know if you know that. I mean, you know some i guess. But seriously. That’s… Omg… I can’t even say. My bgl’s have been psychotic and seriously are fucking up my usual eloquence and capability to select the most succinct of words. But.. I am so fucking proud and happy for you!!! With you and for you!!!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well thank you, Kalliope. It’s so very sweet of you to say so. And give no mind to eloquence or fine talkin’ here. It’s the heart and soul, the love and care which matters to me. And I feel that loud and clear in your kind comments. And I thank you for it too, yes I do.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I just reread this post and I had the fucking funniest image in my head in so sorry. But your imagery that you used. Like going within to grab that fucking beast within is the hardest. But it’s easier to endure when you have a friend or two or whatever. To help.
So I just thought of going inside and grabbing that shit myself. Kind hot like I’d be fisting you to grab that shit. But because I’m demented I had to turn it into some black comedy and I’d all of a sudden have you attached to my arm and you’re like my fleshy machine gun. I get that beast out of you, and exorcise it as words through your mouth aimed at fucking arseholes. Let them have your demons. If they’re not fucking smart enough to notice and get out of the way, good. Let them suffer. You need to be healed. And get fucked at the same time? All the better.
Lol. Machine gun fellatio. But not fellatio. Machine gun machete! Cunts! Lol
LikeLiked by 1 person
Such vivid imagery, Kalliope. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. 🙂
LikeLike
Uh. Yeah hahaha wtf sorry lol
LikeLike
Don’t be sorry! 🙂
LikeLike
Haha thanks. I’m sorry. Haha I just have the most fucked up brain. Haha. My train of thought is quite fun because I have no idea how to gets to these places and stuff. Im along for the ride just as much as anyone else. Haha.
Thanks for not being weird about it 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Don’t even trip, K. You know where you are, right? This is the batshit crazy bat cave.
LikeLike
This bat has gotta fly! Echo echolocation.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thoughtfully written from deep inside…you are a good writer and expresser.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Elixir.
LikeLiked by 1 person
No mentions please…its my privileged to appreciate my friends who deserve it the most!
LikeLiked by 1 person
i have so much anger.so much! when i express it correctly and at a deserving target, i feel relief. when i hold it in until it spills onto those who do not deserve it, i feel guilt & remorse.
i guess that is the trick.
getting it out & into the appropriate vessel.
❤ happy healing ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
And I must confess it is a trick it took me a long time to learn, mistaking the expression of anger as abusive behavior as I did. But I believe I am getting the hang of it now.
Thank you so much for you kind encouragement, Emje. Happy healing to you too. ❤ ❤ ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person