It happened again. I did not see it coming. Nothing too much to say about it: I was walking then my 200-pound body thudded on a hard floor. Any sense of control of my body ceased to be. I am still dealing with the kind of seizures that I can feel. It’s not like the many who get to lose consciousness. Every shake, every hit of an organ, the searing pain and drooling foam is experienced without any detail being made subtle by some power who I would have thought to have mercy for me. Life once again does its due to show how amoral it is. No longer does it bother me that fairness is not to expected of it. But am I wrong to use my little hope in an attempt to even the scales through a belief in self-worth? Am I simply becoming more and more naive or am I being ignorant of the facts so that I don’t feel emotions swelling to make manifest pain that continues to find refuge in my heart?
It didn’t take too long for me to regain consciousness. Since this has happened so many times, I have grown to be able to overpower the shaking in the split moment when a small amount of control seems to be not too far from reach. I got onto my feet and endured the pain in my back with the strong desire to return to my corner in this world. The corner where I can be alone and therefore get to quiet the voices that would go on a rampage telling me that the people around me at that moment when I fell are judging me. I am a black man. They can tell that I am not a Caribbean and therefore I may receive more of their prejudice. But then the part of me that believes in the inherent goodness of people fights for custody of my attention.
Oh, the confusion! I feel myself shutter. I surrender control to the neural processes that characterise my subconscious self. They would know how to better handle this. Such powerlessness. Oh, why did I have to be conscious during the processing of an episode? Since I have willingly surrendered, why am I still mandated to feel? I would have thought that I would be freed. I need that freedom for me to heal. Though the healing is not whole, it is much better than the alternative.
I fell again. After how many months, I do not know. I am yet to understand what may have triggered it. But I can’t help but think that I can now just ignore it. The backlog of issues, known and hidden, could always do with another one of them. At least they don’t need to feel lonely. Maybe I can find some peace in knowing that demons within are not lonely. Maybe my loneliness can be eradicated by knowing that some part of myself isn’t.
The attendant who I was walking towards helped me up but then felt distant. She was right in front of me. So why would I feel like that? Is this another one of those times when what is tangible and optically perceivable doesn’t accurately represent the whole truth of what the situation is like? If so, then I do not mind giving in and walking away. But her kindness is much better to be attentive to. She showed me her kindness without feeling the need to decide whether or not I was worth it. She didn’t feel the weirdness that I felt. Once again, here is apparent proof of how amazing humankind is. Besides the nastiness that resides in our existence, this one act of kindness and consideration shows it transcending ability that pushes a soul to a place of hope.
Sure the tears fell. The shame was immense and downright impossible to control. I have made peace with how unable I am to put a leash on this demon. I have tried so many times. But it ends up with me getting scars, blood-gushing wounds and another piece of my amygdala dies. So many casualties in the form of neurons simply trying to do what they were designed to do. My heart goes out to them. I hope they can find a place within me where they can rest peacefully. Beyond any kind of pain or the overwhelming nature of stimuli.
Oh you who is able, please have mercy.