Day 213: Lost in my Mind

 

I have this person inside of me who is a judge, a stern judge, who questions and
reasons continually. He or she, or whatever it be, is relentless in their
search for truth, even when I plead that there is no truth. This entity
scrutinizes everything and everyone, even as I sit back from behind and shout
for him to stop. It as if he must dissect and find connections to
make sense of what he sees. As if my world is not enough and must be recreated
and categorized.

Nothing is easy for him. Nothing simple. Nothing plain. All is
complex. Even the eyes of a stranger are a deep hollow tunnel to dive into and
explore, to be lost from a near glance, and come out unquenched, only to dive
in again and again, to find nothing but the same. To feel depleted at every
turn because the answers don’t come readily, and when they do come they lead to
more questions.

It is an exhausting ride with no end. There is no coming up
without diving back down. There is no stopping. My mind is that rollercoaster
where the hands are up and you are screaming in glee, and then the turn comes
that makes you queasy, or the fear sets in, or the wheel make the sound that
pierces the ears, and you want to get off, you don’t want to ride again and again,
but you can’t get off, not because the belt is buckled, not because the wind is
fast and you face is slapping against it, only because you have forgotten you
are on the ride, and keep spinning round and upside down with no way to leave
what you don’t know you are on.

I can’t explain it. It is too complex and deep, and a mystery to me. I can see a forest, and getting lost in a forest, only to
awake and see that you are in a forest fast asleep dreaming of another forest,
but you are standing watching yourself sleep. It is a complexity so intense
that I am lost in my own world.

I don’t understand why others don’t see things
as I do, at least most others. How they can round a corner and think of nothing
but rounding a corner. How they can focus in a conversation and not feel and hear
and sense the thousand other things happening. What of the dust particles in
the air. The ticking clock. The grime on the couch. The fibers of the carpet
bent. The voice in the head rambling about woes. The tingling of skin. The
thoughts of the next word, and how the word carries a thousand different
meanings.

How can you talk to me and use these words when each word carries
this potential energy and meaning. Don’t you worry that I don’t understand you
exactly? Can’t you see we are not even communicating, really. That what you
sense and experience is not what you are conveying directly with words. That
what you are, whom you are is this huge collaboration of the way your body
moves, the way your eyes search, the sound of your voice, the pitch, the volume,
the breath, the sigh, the everything. How can I sit and be with you, when you
are communicating to me a fleet of ships in just one syllable, and all you
think I see is a row boat on the shore. No, you are a myriad of images.

I am a
vessel that collects, with every sound spoken and every thought unspoken, I
sense you with a sense I cannot pinpoint. I know you more than you think,
perhaps more than you know yourself. I can sense your sorrow, your insecurity,
your worry, your lies—the way you lie to yourself and corner yourself. I can
understand the depths of you while you remain on the outskirts in the shallow,
I swim in your deep.

And thusly, I do the same with me. I dance inside myself,
but not with joy, but in this tangled intertwined string, all twisted and
distorted, unable to tell one feeling from the other, because I am bombarded
all at once with experience upon experience.

To you a doorbell is a doorbell. A sound. An announcement. A door to be opened. To me a doorbell is a lion. A
ringing warning of what’s beyond, the thousand upon thousand possibilities of
one sound, one notion, one voice.

No, when you speak to me I do not hear your
words, I see your journey, I see your past, I feel your pain, I feel your joy. You come carrying the grand gift of you, wrapped and rewrapped, and hidden, and
haunted with ghosts, and you expect me to sit and take the crumb of you, the
one piece, when I see the monster lurching behind, the one that guards your
secrets. And he sees me. And he hungers after me, because he knows I can see
your treasures and truth. And out he comes to attack, to protect, to steal my
gifts. For he is fear’s gatekeeper, and I am fear’s mistress joy, and I wish
nothing but to help you see the beauty within.

I am stung by the wasps of you.
I am stung each time we talk, each time our eyes meet. For I can see you swarming
with truths you dare not whisper. I can see the bees behind you. Each carrying
a part of you, and yet you present yourself as single flower, and want me to
simply sniff and be gone.

How can I walk in this world when everywhere are
these bees, this noise, this stinging, whilst everyone pretends the flowers are
falling from the sky. How can I show you what I see when your eyes can only
reach to the horizon, and mine dig deep into the ocean sky, and swim beyond the
universe into you. I sense your depth. I sense your deep. I know you so well,
as reflection of me.

I know where demons hide and shadows and dark. I know
where light dances. I know the journey within the journey, but I am left to
smile shallow and speak a whisper. To bypass all the stories you carry and
wonder if by chance we shall meet again and you will let me swallow what is you,
so I may feed off of your loneliness and become one with myself.

Can you not see
we dance in isolation, this game of communication? Can you not see me standing
at the wall waiting for your hand? Can you not see we do not have this time,
this patience, this waiting. Now is now, and if you do not bleed for me, if you
do not purge yourself and throw up upon me, then I am left to drown in your
mire, fending for myself, while you walk blindly to your ways.

You bombard me
without knowing. You crush me. You crash upon me with your energy. You paint me
with your past, your future, your present, and your worries. You feed off of
me. You eat what you want and leave, all the while thinking you have merely
said Hello.

~ S. Craft, August 2012

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25 thoughts on “Day 213: Lost in my Mind

  1. It’s quite strange that, I have this same person inside of me too; who is a judge, a stern judge, who questions and reasons continually. 🙂 And this person is also my biggest critic. He never gets satisfied in whatever I do.
    Thanks a lot for giving these thoughts a face with your words. It was a really thoughtful and beautiful post. Wonderful!

    1. Thank you for your thoughtful comment. I have learned, through much practice, to calm the critic. He pops his head in from time to time and judges my effort, and I remind him to go somewhere else. Thank you for saying you understand. It is helpful to know others “get” this. Take care and much light to you. 🙂

  2. This also speaks of me and to me, thank you. You are profoundly gifted in insight and expression, and I wish that you would paper publish this whole blog – everyday’s – so I might hold it in my hands,sit it on my bedside, cherish it..and share some with others where your wisdom will nurture, inspire and awaken them also.

  3. “… all the while thinking you have merely
    said Hello.”

    So much the plight of the ‘highly sensitive person’ – in a world filled with many who could not begin to relate – or have not let themselves ‘feel’ to the extent that some of us do, and clearly must. I often think, ‘i could be a monk – and live upon a mountaintop, alone’ and be pretty happy. I guess that would be my way of avoiding all the inner-conflict you have so poetically described in your post. But I know that wouldn’t suit me either for various reasons. Yes – the “game of communication” — we must learn the rules and stick to them I suppose…but then isn’t everyone working with a different rule-book? The ‘inner-judge of self’…. well that’s a huge — I know you’ve done this work ~ but it’s never completely done when someone is a sensitive spirit – you know? Yes – that doorbell— arghhh!! Need I go on? Rambles from me tonight – but please know I get it all – and you are not alone. Much Love to you dear sea-sis, very thought provoking post as usual ~ xxoo R

    1. I am amazed at how “spot on” you always are in understanding what I am attempting to communicate. Sometimes I think you see me better than I see myself. It is the plight of the highly sensitive person. You are absolutely correct. Yes…I longed to be a nun at times, and if I were a man, a monk would do. I have been facing the shadow side lately, as you know, and this inner judge shows up time and time again. And yes, it’s never completely done. “He” has a way of hiding and pretending to be gone, or wearing masks, or quietly whispering, so I don’t notice him there; he even changes his fortmat, technique, and language….Quite the stinker, he is!!! Sharing him on this blog does help though. I love your rambles….I feel so much less alone when you comment, and “get it.” Oh….and you just wrote “you are not alone”…hehehe Didn’t even see that until now. Thanks so much for taking the time to leave such rich and thoughtful comments. Love and hugs sea sis. xoxox

  4. I think I have heard that stern voice, too. It has sometimes sounded very frightening. Now I just say, “Oh, be quiet.” Try to find the simple and the plain, if you can.

    1. hehehe….oh…the simple and the plain…if only my mind were wired that way. I have had some luck with meditation, and focusing on the now, and I can quiet the voice. I often have many moments of serenity and peace. But we he comes……BANG! He arrives with a force. Thanks for your words. Much love. 🙂

  5. A word.. a simple word.. “Hello” has such a deep meaning, is it a greeting? a query? is it a challenge? is it a question of well being? is it a door to your inner being?
    Your words create such thoughts within my mind.. I read and reread to try to understand, and I find it difficult some times to comprehend the world you live in.. A nun or monk.. I would hate to be, to communicate, to try to understand, the essence of my being..
    You explain your inner feelings, your consternation, your fear of whats to be.. and I fear for you.
    I fear only the feeling of fear, is it born in me? is it something taught when young? is it a way of life? or is it just me, that I will face what comes when it comes, and live rather with good expectations…
    How I feel your inner conflicts, it must be hard to keep that smile on ones face with all the constant conflicting thoughts and self questioning… I wish I could say something that would make things easier for you… except that I understand what you are going through, and only because you describe it so well in words…
    I love the sideways glance and smile and know you have the strength to pull through.. and I am on your side with Hugs from this side of the world…

    1. I shared this because so many females with Aspergers (and males to a degree) have these constant thoughts and self-evalutaion and processing. What is interesting, as once I wrote it out, I had a fantastic day. With Aspergers, if one is able to verbally process aloud or in written form, so much can be released and understood. I do believe it is a result of high-intelligence. I think so many artists and writers suffer great degree of inner-turmoil, but that it is this trumoil that enables….well let’s say PUSHES and DRIVES them to share and create. It is so interesting. Interesting in the fact now that I can step back and watch myself and examine myself examining myself. Wild, it is.
      It’s not so much a fear…the fear comes and goes, and I can calm the fear and release it. It is a profound inner awareness and sensitivity to everything and everyone around me, like someone has turned up the volume of all my senses, including my soul and emotional sensing. Most of the time I like being me. I am clever and loving, super-deep, and never dull. My husband is used to it, and frankly would be quite bored with a “typical” person. lol. Are there times I envy the easy-going woman, with easy thoughts, and little worries…..oh, yes. But God created me for a purpose, and so I embrace me, including these parts I wrote above. This is just a fraction of who I am. A small part. But still a part that needed to be released and shown to others, for my sake, and for others “suffering.” I have tremendous strength and the love of wonderful souls….I will be fine. And words like yours, and your spirit, make a huge difference. So thank you very much. 🙂

      1. You are one very brave and intelligent woman… I have observed women suffering from CFS trying to explain their inner feelings to others and they just don’t get the point across and get mocked for it… I actually wrote an article on it to shut chirping mouths up.. yet I can understand your expressions and all… your husband must really enjoy you when he gets home from a hard day at the office and you start to talk about how you’re feeling… his bad day will be out his head so quick…

  6. Well..I’m rather speechless. Partly because I get this, and partly because, I’m dumfounded that I get this. So, I choose at this moment quiet…following a, very well written.xo

    1. 🙂 Awe, thanks Lady Day. I am not surprised you get this. You seem very deep, spiritual, complex, and intelligent. Thank you for taking the time to read this. The text came out all broken, but I chose to leave it that way, as that was how I was feeling. WordPress wouldn’t work to straighten it out; so I left the sentences jagged. I felt jagged. Thus it fit the mood. Hope all is well. 🙂

  7. Sam, dear Sis, when you talk about your over-sensitivities like that I am a bit grateful for my stroke as it reset things and dropped a lot of my sensitivities. There are negatives, of course, but you help me to realize that everyone truly is fighting some kind of battle, and we need to take it easy on them.
    Scott – BB

  8. I can relate. Especially to the beginning, that voice in your head that criticizes everything, that questions and questions and questions some more. Even at this very moment, I am questioning my self-diagnosis of AS, for example.

    I also see details everywhere. How something looks from one day to another. It makes me rather hypercritical in certain situations.

    After all, if I can see it, can’t everyone?

    1. Thank you for sharing your experience. So glad to be getting to know you better in our support group. I know what you mean…why can’t others see the same as we do. It still confuses me at times. Thanks again. 🙂

  9. I am thanking the universe for you……for turning ‘my crazy inner world’ into words. Would’t ‘simple’ just be nice for a day or two….for instance a door bell being layer upon layer of thought, analysis and preparation…..turns into ‘its just the door bell’!!! 🙂

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