The Collection

I’ve been quiet a lot lately.

I’ve been thinking.

Thinking and overthinking. I’ve been digging around in this overcrowded brain of mine. Turning over every rock and fallen tree. Every box of junk and bag of garbage.

The first time I found one I was actually a little bit surprised by it. I was rummaging around in one of the many rooms of my brain, and there it was, likely under a pile of some happy memory or lovely feeling; at this point I can’t even remember. At first I wasn’t even quite sure what it was. I picked it up, dusted it off, and took another look. And then I realized.

It was hurt.

A small hurt, but nevertheless, it was unmistakable. So I carried it to the back of my brain, and put it in the room marked “storage”. You gotta put it somewhere now, don’t you? I’m not one of those people to take a hurt and just throw it away. No – I keep that shit hanging around, as cluttered as my mind may get sometimes. At least I know enough to not just let it float around out there. It needs to have a place to live.

And then, before I knew it….I came across another one. Stumbled right over it when I least expected.Fell right over it. Again, I did the same thing – picked it up, polished it, and put it in that back room with the other one.

But then I did something that I probably shouldn’t have. I started actively looking for more. I started pulling shit out of every imaginable corner. I looked under memories, behind happiness and love. There were buried hurts all over the place. And each time I do the same thing – I pick it up, polish it off to a gleaming shine, and stack it away in that room with the others, in the room that now has it’s very own neon blinking sign labelled “HURTS”. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

I’ve been coming back to this room more and more to look around. I look over those hurts. I count them. I feel the sting of each one like they just happened.

And lately I’ve noticed something that concerns me. The room has migrated. It’s not there at the back anymore. It’s somehow made it’s way up to the front. I can hear that fucking neon buzzing almost constantly. I can drown it out now and again, but when everything is quiet, I can’t ignore it.

Some days it feels like the biggest room in my brain.

I know what I need to do. I need to go on a major purge and clear that shit out of there. I’ve discovered that hurts stored together like that multiply and grow like fungus. The problem now is that the room has gotten so big, the hurts so numerous, that I’m not even sure where to begin. I’m pretty sure I can’t do it alone….but right now I’ve got no one to help.

And so they sit there and continue to fester, out of control.

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Just as a side note, I’ve turned the comments off for this post; it may be a trend going forward for me as I attempt to work through some of this. I just need to put some things out there without concerning myself with what might be said in the comments.

One Response

  1. […] better to be me than anyone else – that is the lie I tell myself. And so I quiet my voice and collect my hurts, chastising myself for being a shitty example to my daughters, who I never want to feel like […]

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