a predictable pattern emerges in the beginning it's simple enough to start, but this is the way of cycles. at first, it's just a thought. but the thought, cues the subsequent spiraling the pulsing under ribs infusion into breast and breath and the frontal lobe gets right sucked in. tricky to ignore problematic persistance with the evolution of the evidentiary demand to escape this wild discomfort, the scream that's clawing to be free with desperation ensuing you find it's impossible to resist this overwhelming need to (insert avoidance response) or to (insert compulsive behavior) or you (insert reassurance seeking) and for a muddled minute you feel a little better? But, a cycle is cyclical. It does not end. And, after all is said and done- guess who's back at the
beginning? my dear friend, what an imagination you have, what a cleverly fictional tale, what a wildly untrue concoction of made-up narrations, of impossible scenarios, of mind-boggling ramblings of lies. existing, right here, in your own mind. and who are you to question? if you think it, it must be true!? if you believe it, it must be real!? if you can feel it, mustn't it mean something!? not really. or not at all. but, don't be too hard on yourself, there's always time for a new beginning. or end. and dear, the thing about cycles? you can step out of them.
This is exceptional. So glad you shared it.
Laura, this was written with such an artful balance of earnestness and playfulness! And oh that tricky frontal lobe... the things it'll do to us in the name of "logic." 🙄😂