The Fog
After all the see-sawing of emotions I had been totally unaware of, the final surprise was what came next — the silence. In that immensity and intensity of whatever this was about, it silenced me, and I had no words.
So I painted. And painted. And painted. And gradually, a few words seeped out.
Stomach Bugs and Summer Storms
When I was a kid and caught a stomach bug, I would do everything in my power not to throw up. I hated that loss of control and the vile retching it caused. So, instead, I would sit there stubbornly hunched over, legs crossed, and my mouth clamped shut. I was convinced I could control the inevitable. If I just kept my mouth shut long enough, my brain could stop my stomach — mind over matter. It goes without saying that my brain lost that battle every time.
Afterward, there would be a period of calm, almost deceptively peaceful, like, “Well, that’s all I needed to do, and now I’m all better.” But then that small queasy feeling would creep back in, start to swell, and deep down I knew…it wasn’t over yet. In short order, I’d be running for the bathroom again because there was no choice other than, “It must come out!”
When a storm is done, the air is fresh and light, and the sun returns. When it’s simply regrouping, you’re surrounded by impenetrable fog and that heavy, humid, unmoving air mass. The waves may be lapping gently at the sides of the boat, but it’s only a matter of time before they try to swamp it. You may not be able to see it yet, or know when it will hit, but you sense the storm out there, lurking.
Those Tricky Emotions
After Mom died and that initial wave of grief rolled through, there was a period of calm. But like the fog after the storm, it was not a place of peace or resolution — more like a temporary depletion. That intense energy had emptied itself out…exhaled too deeply, and needed a moment to regroup. But like that stomach bug, the next round was coming.
The thing is, where there is no stopping the storm or the stomach bug, emotions are a bit trickier. Even if they must or should come out, a stubborn, fearful brain can blunt their efforts and force them underground. You can delude yourself that the calm of buried emotions is really a healthy peace. But the truth is, if you refuse to face them, they will find their own way out. The question is — How will they show up and what will they look like?
For me, all I knew was that there was this tightening ball of emotions, so complex and convoluted, I wasn’t even sure if I could pull the strands apart to identify them. For that matter, I had no idea which thread to dare pull on to start with.
Tags: life, mental-health, poetry, sorrow, stomach-bug, summer-storm, throwing-up, wellness, wretching, writing
Soul Mosaic 
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