I searched and I strove. I strove to feel better; to fight the bad feeling.
‘I’m a warrior deep down I feel it’ I cried.
‘There’s more to me’ I prayed.
So I fought, and strove and I adamantly and stubbornly pushed to climb the mountains I had set myself.
The fear of the bad feeling would come, I’d visualise it with such intense emotion attached to it, that it would inevitably happen. Then the bad feeling was there with a vengeance, making me feel vulnerable, uncomfortable, paralysed, suffocating, unstable, like death was near.
I’d grip something outwardly, I’d grip something inwardly. I’d hold tight and push and grab and fight.
I found help. A way to delve into my mind and tell it other stories.
That brand of bad feeling went to sleep, that particular gremlin rested.
Another gremlin was still inside somewhere, playing in a different way, finding unsettled things. It found things that were not used and were gathering dust, things that weren’t tidy and in place, and it toppled them over, threw, kicked and hid. The new gremlin had found a playground to create a different brand of bad feeling.
Again I told myself I was a warrior, I told myself I must I will I have to fight!
So I fought, I strove, I pushed. Then I fought, strove and pushed some more! I Pushed, I pulled, I climbed, I fought stubbornly with the gremlin.
I cried, I wailed, I shouted, I FOUGHT!
So, so tired.
I sat, wasted.
I no longer wanted to fight or push or pull or strive.
I was exhausted and just wanted to let go of gripping.
So I sat, and watched and felt the bad feeling.
The gremlin was annoyed at not being important anymore, and then afraid of being watched, and then it got bored and it went to sleep.
My goodness there was a world around me! People, sky, flowers, ants, voices, the smell of onions frying.
The bad feeling subsided and I breathed.
I didn’t have to fight, I could just be.
I didn’t want to be a warrior, so I lay down my sword and just became me