Blind Sight

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cognition / emotional scar tissue / human experience / relationships / Uncategorized

 

 

IMG_1986       I closed my eyes just for a long second or….maybe six. I was driving down that back road I often take home when there is excessive traffic on the main one. My lids wanted to come back up, to see, I guess. They didn’t trust that my brain could navigate the hills and wide turns on it’s own, without using sight.  So I fought this compulsion to open my eyes. I actually argued with myself over it. I could “see” the road clearly, yet it was my memory of it, I’m guessing; that mental picture you view when you’ve done something five hundred times and you know it. And you know that you know it.

And that’s how I know you. And you know that I know you. And you carry on. And I close my eyes and feel you in my brain. Where you will remain until I figure out how to navigate through the twists and turns with my eyes closed. Because if I were to open them it wouldn’t make sense to drive around blindly, would it? But it works for me right now. I need it to work for me.

There are too many variables to drive over to get to the place my heart wants to go.

Open your eyes! He screamed at me. Wake the hell up!  Life isn’t a fucking dream! There are too many casualties in your wake. What is wrong with you? It echoed…that angry voice of his. Where are you going? WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!

I don’t know, I said. My eyes are closed and I can’t see. I’m following my heart this time. I never listened to it before. 

But your heart belongs to me! I own you! You will do what I say!

My heart belongs to no one. Not even me at the moment. If I were to stop and look, I might find that it isn’t even there as it had been before, just beating…beating…beating, without a thought to it’s mission…no passion…no meaning…no more. 

How could it NOT be there!  You’re a fool!

It might be in pieces. I bet it’s in pieces. Maybe we’ll find “hope” somewhere, maybe “forever” in there too. when I open my eyes there may even be pieces of “love” scattered amid the heart shards. I’m afraid I may not be able to put them back together though. That’s why I want to keep my eyes closed. That’s why I need to keep my eyes closed. Maybe you could just listen to me for once.

You are a foolish dreamer. Wake up. Don’t wake up. I don’t know if I care anymore.

I know that about you and you know it too;

Maybe we both need to open our eyes;

Please…no.

 

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The Author

I am a licensed clinical social worker who just happens to adore the written word. I have had a private practice and am now writing a memoir on my life in the company of my father and many of my clients who have been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I hope to dispel some myths and break down some barriers for those with mental illness. I write out of need and complete joy, which I hope to convey throughout my blogs. The human experience is not exclusive to one group. I hope to appeal to most as I touch on some pretty heady material with some self-deprecating humor and raw emotion thrown in for good measure. I have four amazing children, one HUGE dog and a tolerant husband. I am blessed.

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