ANGST
When the pressure builds, and my reserve of calm is exhausted, I attempt to express too many feelings all at once, and not having figured out a successful delivery; I become frustrated rather than relieved.
I have learned not to explode when the energetic wires cross — the internal shaking, the doubt, my longing to be understood, and knowing that my expectation to be recognized hinges on a valid conveyance of thought and feeling.
This morning, for a moment I felt despair. I have never acknowledged how disturbed I get when my alert and creative mind begins to chop up what I perceive and I glean a unique perspective. As a child, being dyslexic was horrifying. My math papers came back with a big fat red letter “F” circled and twice underlined. It was as if the teacher did not feel remotely responsible or she was so offended that striking back by demoralizing me made her feel okay. Those wounds went deep, but this morning I discovered where one was hiding.
Was the pain hiding or was I? When reading the last paragraph to my wife, I vividly remembered the bold F adorning my fourth-grade math paper, and I could not contain the pain. I recalled that moments before Mrs. Heartless cast judgment on my soul and I felt hopeful. This test was my day of vindication arrived, I was not stupid, and everyone would know it. In disbelief, I checked the numbers, then double checked, and they were right, so why were they marked wrong?
That was the moment any last vestige of self-worth retreated, deep within me, beyond my conscious mind to a sanctuary, I often visited, but had no idea how I had arrived. All I knew is that my spirit journeyed without physical or emotional restraint and I became sublimely peaceful. These experiences were a circuit breaker in my youth and slowly over the years, I have developed the ability to intentionally foster a conscious connection.
It is not my lot in life to remain separate from all that I am. The forging of a link between my mind and the suspended, emotionally hibernated self is a meditation rooted in vibration. The angst I felt remembering the past is not trapped in the past, it is a memory and it exists in the now, in the realm where I can most effectively deal with it.
