My journey beyond the cancer seas.
Do you ever have a sense of internal freeze. A slow motion moment of seeing the bullets of your thoughts ricochet around your skull? As if you are starring in your own western version of the good, the bad and the ugly?
Which thought process do you follow in any given moment? What truth do you feed? Which wolf is yours today?
Strikes me that a thing or two can be learned from the humble raising of a hand to declare a mental health scenario. During Covid the arena of mental health became heard and seen in a way that I've never experienced. Not a person can deny the psychological effects of the past few years and its toll upon us all.
It was a relief for me. Having lived with a mother with a likely brain tumour. Through her, by the age of 6, I had seen a huge array of the mental health spectrum. It was all too up close and personal. I carried the legacy of deep shame. Not to mention the learned behaviour of a hyper vigilant caretaker. I had a staunch desire never to be like her, never to admit my mental health was fragile, ever. Even if others could see it.
I've had therapy, a fair deal over the years. And even there I managed to squirm out of admitting my situation. Admitting the ferocious war that burns in my thoughts every day.
