Rolling Evolution: Trying to heal

Sep 2
4 min read

There isn’t the one point to reach - the finish line

If I ever read old poems, and it happens very rarely, I now find myself wanting to change them. Yes, they were there as a moment in time.

A time capsule.

A feeling.

Some of them, I still connect with deeply.

For others, I instantly desire changing the wording. Sometimes I want to streamline, but often it’s about the core emotion.

I’d be making them more hopeful, changing my angle on a thought, or using an older analogy to cover things I’m working on at the moment.

More of a reflection of me, now. And, I guess, writing is exploration - of ideas and, of, the self.

If you have an intensely reflective, busy (and forgetful) brain, you’re having mini-realisations.. and then gone!

Losing the essence of anything you felt instantaneously and moving between various (inter-linking) topics. Subjects that my mind creates a labyrinth of connections and patterns between. Then, sharply moving to a new focus point.

Not that I want to forget all the past versions of me, or abandon them completely..

In one, about a wedding, I really wanted to move it on - and this felt like a poignant inner-moment.

In life, and therapy, progress can feels slow and sore,

but I love that looking back in this way helps me see progress made. Otherwise, I minimise, or forget where I was.

I look at the world, and myself, through a different lens to the one from a year ago, even.

Maybe I wrote something in a moment of frustration and hurt and I relate less, or it’s that I’ve slowly shifted. And, I’ll be different a year from now.

Tongue Tangles

(not honing in on one thing!)

I cringe a bit at some of the older appearances of web pages and at the word heavy pieces that I’m still not sure make sense (!)

Can still write a bit like that now.

In terms of the ‘look’, I’m not sure any of that’s great (I don’t know really) but we continue..

When it comes to some of the cringey things I’ve written in old blog posts (cheesy etc.), I’m really trying to EMBRACE the cringe. Not trying to hide the person I was, and am.

After years of feeling that little things I do in everyday life must be ‘weird’ or ‘unusual’, I need to embrace a bit! Realise that we all have quirks and that it probably has a lot to do with early messaging I was given - and the ADHD being perceived thing!

When I’m walking down the street, there isn’t anything I’m giving off. I’m fearful of this, without understanding what I’m expressing, at times when I want to isolate anyway.

Crawl into my own skin.

Misunderstood eyes, overly-friendly, bubbly greeting, expressions etc.

Something that makes me ‘unusual’.

Part of me doesn’t care.

And I care a lot.

Feeling I wasn’t, whatever ‘normal’ is (don’t really like that term).

Obscure, unusual - not like other people, in a way that wasn’t quantifiable. Deeply, in my soul.

I couldn’t put my finger on it before. And, at times, still can’t. It’s at home in my day-to-day life.

A feeling of being gross or yucky.

The expressions I have. The way I walk down the street.

Huge trauma components to that.

More recently, it’s taking in and absorbing all the parts of me (trying to be more gentle towards them) and noticing (small) powerful shifts.

Of course, it’s about an internal dial and wouldn’t feel as powerful to anyone else, but I appreciate the opportunity to notice.

In therapy, I’ve wondered if I’ve changed and have questioned this.

Feeling that my therapist must be bored or angry with me (she’d say no, I’m not) at my ‘lack of progress’.

There is change.

As I’m me and am with me everyday (!!) it’s harder to notice and you can’t without taking a step back.

Recently, I re-worked a poem called Step by Step about walking down an aisle (ultimately about my relationship with myself) and it felt meaningful and certain.

I was so connected, and in flow state, writing it, but sadly lost the post.

As much as I felt uneasy about not having that final ‘publish’ moment in one way, (the buzzy self-questioning and noticing mistakes after posting!!!), I felt satisfied.

Satisfied for, inside, me

It’s not for other people. So much of it is for what’s going on internally.

There was an uneasiness on losing the post and poem.

That I could never write the same words again, even if I tried (didn’t want to then).

I’d achieved the release and something had left my body in actually doing it, though. Expressing myself.

Did I need the posting part? Well, I would have felt less discombobulated and out-of-control afterwards, but I’m glad I had the soothing feeling of writing. Journal-style.

That’s what mattered.

Being a person that can celebrate changes that I’ve made, is fantastic. It’s a process, without one end-goal to reach for (but lots). We are ever-evolving and changing and, even thought it won’t always, it generally feels good.

Poetry as a visible marker. A place holder.

Where I was in that moment.

…

Thoughts tied together with string

and clouds

In a glorious din

Concurrent, rolling thoughts

that can feel LOUD

I’ve never been the sin

The brain is the sunshine,

battling wind

They can go well together

But, I want to ring fence

them off

Make them separate things

There are so many focuses

It’s choosing what to focus on

Sharply awakened by

the ideas that ping!

I can’t concentrate with

you looking at me!!

This idea will implode in 20 seconds

Write it down

All yous were judgements

Passed down

and held, within

You don’t need to earn

relaxation

The ageless, forever, noise

it sinks

I see me.

That will became not where I am

but where I’ve been

For moments..

I buzz, aliveness

When I feel that link

To take a thought

Leave it there - Why?

There is NO pin

Let’s not even try to suppress it

Lets get going

Reel of desire, for a soul connection

in rumbling twins

Clouds creating patterns in the sky

Bridge, created

Grateful for the thunder

The interrupter and disrupter

For my light

I won’t continue

and turn outside voices inwards

There isn’t even a button to dim

Feeling the moment

as well as capturing it