Thursday, March 31, 2016

Fifteen minutes of wet hysteria

I had a recurrance of multiple space outs atop SoTPC as I rode, a dark swirl taking me out of the moment of watching an old ep of SNL and it was grindingly hard work recognising when it happened then bringing my mind back to the comedic distraction.

Afterwards, as I walked in to the house, ruminating on a tricky problem when—sweaty, angry, tired and exhausted—I thought of a bit from Seinfeld and just started cackling. It went on as I undressed, it went on as I showered, I was still laughing as I dried myself off then got dressed again. I felt like Burns after he cracked up for 36 hours straight after he recalled smashing into that crippled Irishman.

Some days it's like you're wearing the Greek masks of tragedy and comedy only both are on at the same time.

That's powerful wellness, though—to be able to shed the dark like a cast off shroud from a sustained moment of utter joy. But even before the laughter attack, when lost deep in grief whilst atop SoTPC, my inner voice (1) was there telling me this high emotion was happening but now, that it would not last and in the morning that I would be okay—and that I had positive work to do on the morro. My MCBT, the M for Mindfulness, kicks in automatically to steer me to better thoughts. 

Earlier, this morning, it happened as I paced outside. I wasn't lost in the dark, I just had the bright of the day ahead—my brain lapsing into a wellness state without conscious effort.

it turns out I'm resilient as fuck—a Vinnie Jones trapped in a fat little body.

Bullet-tooth Mikey; WFTW. 

(1) Inner voice, always looking out for the entire me. I'm a well-hued fortress of many minds.  

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