I didn’t mean to write this when I sat down in polite fury to compose a short Facebook post. I hardly ever mean to write half of what I write.
Some days the thoughts in my head are too overwhelming to unpack. These are the scary, lonely, transformative days that I just want someone I trust and love to hold me silently while my mind takes a trip through philosophy and time.
Silently. Carefully. Lovingly.
The times my thoughts are heaviest usually come after experiences and conversations with people I don’t know or haven’t seen in a while. I’m sensitive to even the most mundane interactions – and because my brain does not operate like a filing cabinet, my thoughts become disjointed and scattered like a portkey-gone-wrong in Harry Potter. My brain operates like any flat surface in my home: there are piles of mail and bills and to-do lists and bits of fabric and things that lose their way in transit from kitchen to bedroom.
Perhaps you can relate: I often hesitate to unpack my suitcase after returning from a week away from home, scared of making sense of the objects and memories I’ve brought back in the form of dirty clothes, airplane napkins, postcards, and hotel toiletries; and scared of creating the piles of items I will have to eventually return to their proper homes in my apartment. Hours after actually unpacking – in the middle of going through some random shoe box I found hidden under my bed – I realize in addition to unpacking I’ve also washed all the laundry, done all the dishes, and cleaned the bathroom and kitchen.
Some days the thoughts in my head are too overwhelming to unpack, until I can find a place to begin to make sense of what holds me hostage in the hallways of my brain. Continue reading I Didn’t Want to Write Tonight