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April 26, 2016

The Letter V

She told me she was well-versed enough in the field of mental health and emotional issues to be aware when she, herself, was not being rational. And, that it was a good thing, she supposed, but it didn’t prevent her from having moments, maybe even entire days when her responses were visceral, much more intense and intuitive, than anything that resembled reason or rationale.


She couldn’t say exactly why, maybe it was because she still hadn’t quite adjusted to some of the many adjustments she felt she was making in her life, causing her to feel, most, if not all of the time, as if she was on unfamiliar and unsteady ground….and that overwhelming feeling of instability didn’t bode very well with angry outbursts of those around her – those that she consciously and sometimes intuitively or viscerally relied on to just be there for her.

She said she was adjusting – accepting life on a different level than she had previous, when she was younger; the limitations of others who she tended to expect too much from, something she said was a very hard adjustment for her – most likely, for anyone to make. But when it went beyond that, beyond dealing with the feelings of fear – maybe abandonment and loneliness too, into a world where angry things were said, and deep resentment spewed forth – or at least what she perceived as deep resentment, she felt herself coiling up inside, internally, into a ball, with the need to hold herself tightly, and just rock herself – letting the tears come and the pain out.


There were no comprehensible or rational explanations for this response, she said; only something way deeper within her – something heartfelt and unmediated by reason and logic – something that wasn’t really looking for consolation and fixing – something cold, dark, way inside; something visceral.

She told me she went through the motions of her day – or at least the ones she was able to bring herself through. Her insides dampened and cold. She felt the tears again, welling up at first and then dripping from their pools in her eyes – so she took another breath.

She briefly asked both me and herself what was so awful, so terrible. She asked why she was overcome with this sense of dread and unrelenting sadness…and what scared us both most is that we didn’t know.


It is not something knowable – only something that is … something that lives deep down, something visceral

  1. Andrea @ Maybe It's Just Me permalink

    I found this gripping!

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