Uncomfortable silence and gasping thoughts become strangled sentences…

I may not be able to articulate how I feel in a language that you can understand, because I am busy fighting my way back. Back from the red, black sparkling clouds that dance their way in my heart and mind carrying me away for days, weeks, months. Years.

Letting my body loosen I ask it, “Where do you hurt today?”  The source of the incomprehensible where is it? Think, feel. Release.

I need comfort, ambient noise must be held at bay. All sound must be diffused ready to be consumed. Absorbed.

In my mind I float on waves, one at a time they wash me. I am cleansed by force. Cleansed with water and salt. Stinging. I float on the stimuli, and I think like a chess player.

Delicate harmony helps me chart my course, the one gifted by the Divine. Accepting the unsure, embracing the unknown, touching old wounds – collecting memory’s snapshots … somehow these things bring balance.

I am the mistress of the clandestine. I am fighting a battle unseen. I can’t tell you when I need to scream, when I need to punch, when I need to crumble. To you I am invincible. If you watch me you will understand my language.

Photo Credit: Iqbal Osman1 Flickr via Compfight cc

Julie Anderson

Julie Anderson is the Creator and Publisher of Feminine Collective. Julie was inspired to create this safe place for women to share their secrets, desires, triumphs and pain as the antithesis of what mainstream media offers women today. In her column Pursuit of Perfection, she explores the importance of rectifying the balance of inner and outer beauty through essays, poems and articles on self-esteem, shame, family, and self- acceptance.

  1. Dori Owen

    *and I think like a chess player.
    Brilliant blog. Can I relate? Yes, because I’ve been inside your head. No platitudes from me. Just R E S P E C T [heart]

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