it bubbled up
It wasn’t my husband's migraines at issue here, it was my sons insistance that I’d missed something; that more research was needed, that there has to be another way, more, something different that is better.
My son can get like that and suddenly, it feels like we all must act according to his dictates. I get it, it’s my stuff it brings up, it’s not him per say. And my stuff, it was on the attack. If I allowed, it would scar, damage and demean those fragile filaments of connection between souls.
It bubbled up, coming forth gutturally from deep inside, filling up my emotions and swirling around so violently as to burst itself through, into my conscious space. It was dark, thick, demonically angry, and powerful without the sense of balance or of itself in space.
I dared not, but I had to squash it. I’m scared of it. I was also scared of it when I shoved it down, pounced it down into the deep dark resources of my being where I have successfully caged it. Truthfully, I’d totally forgotten about that place, that feeling, that experience I once had.
Somehow I thought all my cleanup work over the years of self-remodeling, interior re-imagining and working on things had removed all the dungeons, darkness’s, and dangers like this. My son didn’t ask for nor deserve this emotion from me.
I had to disengage. I didn’t feel like I had any control of it, nor could I even express or explain my reactions nor sudden disengagement. I needed a minute or more to compose. I needed to process, to figure out and squelch this feeling; this powerful ugly, awful, horrible blackness.
It wasn’t on him. He just pushed the fact that he wanted us to care for his Dad, my husband in a new and different way. His suggestion with emphasis was entirely logical, reasonable. He’s just worried about his Dad and has an insistance for what he cares about. He just wanted to revisit what was our true, our life to see if it could be different.
He wanted us to ask new questions, develop new ways, improve ideas to really know, really fix the migraine headaches my husband gets waaaayyyyy too much. They’ve always been too much, seeming anomalies and unfair and so debilitating.
I haven’t experienced this for decades. I haven’t been it, haven’t had the support or strength to worry about it. This thing takes personal power. This is guttural. It’s dark and powerful. Maybe I haven’t been ready till now. Maybe I’ve finally removed enough layers to now deal with this one.
