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At the doctor’s today — too much, too much, too much, too much information streaming from strange faces, strange mouths, strange eyes — too much information

overload

overload

Where is that safe place?  When facing what needs to be faced is the only right option because I need something I can’t run or hide from.

Noise, too much noise, too much information.  Words dissolve, faces dissolve, my thoughts dissolve.  I can hear nothing, focus on nothing, understand nothing — without tremendous will power concentration.

I can’t explain that although I LOOK like an adult, a person — I can vanish inside, vanish, vanish, vanish.  Empty inside.  Nobody there.  Nobody for you to talk to because there’s nobody in here listening, nobody to hear you.

Too many words, like icicles stabbing stabbing stabbing stabbing.  I can’t tell them, QUIET PLEASE.  I can’t read your lips, your words don’t match the movement of your mouth.

What has happened to me that it’s come to this?  Everything they tell me is complicated complicated complicated.  I cannot understand a word that you are saying.

I have gone backwards in time, all the way back.  Does anyone understand what it’s like to be a nobody?  Body here, nobody else.  Nothing else.  You on the outside moving around, doing people things, I can’t tell you what it’s like inside for me.  There are no words on the inside to meet and match your words on the outside.

All gone.  It’s all gone.”Be here, Linda.  Be here.  Focus.  Pay attention.  This is important, you cannot go away.  There is nobody here with you to help you.  You are alone in this.  You have to do this.”

Appointment after appointment, things I need taken care of.  How can I do it?

The terror I cannot name overtakes me and I can barely bash it back.  It comes like a cloud of locusts, out of the void, out of the unknown world I do not feel a part of

unless

unless

all is calm.  All is slowly given, carefully spoken, like drops of nectar, drops of dew, one at a time slowly sinking in below the surface, into my awareness.

I wish I knew what happened to one of my competent selves, a confident one, one who could fool herself as she fooled everyone else — an information machine.  Very efficient.  Ticking words, in and out like gushes of breath, all held in check, in their places, in their order

But not now.  The words don’t work that way any more.  Not when there are things at stake and I am a stranger in a strange place and there’s too much to take in — and I go away, fighting not to, like the dark spook shadows in the movie “Ghost,” dragged away I go into the darkness while they all stay where they are in the light.

And the tears come rushing out of my eyes and I can’t outrun them, sidestep them, just they gush

What I can manage to grasp in my attention is like a thousand diamond’s thousand facets — spinning spinning spinning

How to make sense of THAT?

There is no dissociational OTHER to take over when things inside fall to pieces.  Nobody there.  Nobody there.  I am barely here and then gone again

gone again

gone again

It is frightening.  Walls and floors and doors and ceilings disappear along with meaning behind the sounds.

“Stay here, Linda.  Pay attention Linda.”

In the two hours I spent in that clinic today I vanished a million times.  All that remains behind is this body with a gossamer thread of me attached somehow — I am NOT dead yet, not dead yet, not dead yet.  I am this body, I am supposed to be in this body.

But we part ways, go in different directions, and nobody here can pay any attention to anything except how the storm feels inside feels inside feels inside.

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