A Mind of its Own: Behind the Scenes

[A psychological analysis]

Sometimes people tell me they like my writing, 
that they relate to it. 
And I feel blissful hearing that someone is connecting with what I’m saying. And then, 
my face goes numb and sulks 
I wish for no one to feel how the product of my pieces come to be. 
The hurt, the hoping, and the pleading all in one flimsy paper I am writing on.

My writing- 
It flows naturally between my senses and the pen scratching away feverishly on the paper in front of it. 
What many don’t know is the behind the scenes that occur for any piece to be produced.

So here is a synopsis- 
My frontal lobe fires the alarm for the rest of my body at least 5 times over. Warning my body of what is to come next- 
It still never is ready.

But the storm doesn’t wait for ‘ready’, because you never will be.

The build up. 
Papers flying, holes being punched, things thrown, 
glasses breaking, clothes ripping. 
Hypertension in my nerves rising. Eyes piercing.

My mind mockingly whispers to me, “you’re starting to lose control.

Then, the next phase begins-

The breaking down.
You lose control. 
Have you ever seen a resilient grown woman fall unexpectedly to the posture of a defeated child?
All in the span of two seconds. 
Cursing, beating, wailing, scratching at the walls. 
What’s worse is that you thought you knew this woman. 
Hell, even I thought I knew this woman. 
But you don’t. 
She holds an unrecognizable distance. 
She’s not here right now. 
The wells of my tear ducts overflow and begin burning from the emptiness that results after. 
My hippocampus is in flames from the memories that it keeps retrieving. Etched memories of pain, abandonment, lies, and betrayal. 
The self-loathing burns through every vein of my body. 
After the mental scars have engraved themselves, then comes the next part-

The tranquility.
Your control returns. 
The tension relaxes. 
Your jaw unclenches, and your body lifts. 
The eerie-ness after a storm surrounds you. The stream of tears stop and your eyes stare without blinking. 
What just happened? 
You look confused, you feel confused. 
Call it a mood swing, call it anxiety, call it whatever.

But, all this happened — just for me to write this piece.