Window of Tolerance
I feel like I want to disappear into dissociation.
The calling to that old familiar numbness is so inviting. I let myself slip a little, in and out of presence, teetering, just on the edge.
And there it is again. That hyper-aroused state, begging me to jump in without looking, to go Full Speed Ahead, without slowing down.
But this is also the edge! Like a train, I have the potential to miss the mark, to propel myself forward, rolling through the stop, breaking under pressure, catching myself only after it's too late.
It's a struggle. One I am becoming conscious of, which seems to do nothing but add to my plight.
I'm trying so hard to avoid THAT PLACE. A place so visceral, so filled with terror. A place in which there are no words, no matter how hard I look for them. A place where even fear forgets its own name. A place I know far too well.
And I know I have to go there, I have to face the wordless, vacuous space that seems to surround me and fill me with a dread that cannot be described.
It's fascinating how much effort goes into being still. The pressure of it burdens every fiber of my body.
I feel frozen--unable to move. The numbness finds me again, and I surrender.