Someone asked me tonight how I accept all these crazy versions of reality I experience and am not freaking out all the time. Have I done ACT or some special kind of therapy? No, not really. I’ve just lived through it.
The first time I experience something new it freaks me out and if it gets bad enough I usually end up in the hospital. Like this last time in July when I was talking gibberish and then not talking at all and then talking all weird. Freaked me out, understandably. But it happens now and I’m fine with it. I have a category to put it in. I know what it is. Or maybe I don’t know what it is but I know that it won’t kill me and it will pass.
I seem to have more and more of these things. These things that I know are bizarre to the rest of the world but have become quite normal to me. So when the universe is orange and I’ve been poisoned and there are people following me I am more able to approach it as an experience than an attack. Some strange experiences can be quite fascinating. I am always hesitant to stop one with medicine too quickly. I lose some of the beauty. It’s not something I can just get back. I enjoy the parts that aren’t super scary, the writing that flows through me. It doesn’t last. I keep it ’til it’s dangerous.
I think dealing with all the physical stuff has made that easier. When there aren’t answers I come up with my own. My own systems of coping, my own reasons, my own rules. My own way of accepting. I may not like what’s going on but there’s no one who’s gonna save me so I might as well enjoy what I can and throw the rest to Hell…
I’m so tired tonight. My brain is foggy and the words aren’t here to write. There are pauses in my mind where thoughts go. It doesn’t sound right and nothing rhymes.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2011