There is a resistance in me that is so subtle. It rises with such quietness, even the most vigilant eyes and ears wouldn’t be able to detect.
The arrival is sharp.
Its ghostly rising seems to convert itself to a tidal wave of suffocating anxiety in the time it takes for me to empty my lungs of the shortest of breaths.
These devastating moments of heart jamming fear seem to always surface just prior to a breakthrough. There is a dark and very sick part of me that still lingers within. It often rises just prior to freeing experiences, screaming in desperation that I should quickly steer clear of the awakening to come.
This clash of good versus evil seems to ignite in chaos while I’m currently on route to a moment of future liberation. These renewals of the mind arrive through various means. Sometimes it’s as simple as purchasing a book that helps to remove an inhibiting blinder. More frequently is arrives via a wise word of truth that pierces my tight chest, striking my core.
Rarely will find me going quietly into that dark void of twisting thoughts of the subconscious. I resist will all my limited might. This part of my baffling disease loves to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory when my guard is down. When I’m not practising spiritual principles in all of my affairs, these nasty experiences can take place more often than I’d like to admit. Fortunately my faint heart rebuttals.
I’m still often left paralyzed by these visceral moments of fear. Many times I have had to pull over to the side of the road in attempts to recapture the breath that is ripped from my chest. After a few years of fighting this beast of Goliath proportions, I have learned not to swerve in avoidance as much.
James 4:7 comes to mind as I recall my last two recent moments of breakthrough and awakening. “Resist the devil, and he will flee from you”.
If there was one muscle I rarely activated prior to arriving in the doors of recovery, it was that highly underdeveloped muscle of courage.
It would be nice to say my sabotaging ways of the mind and spirit have been irradiated, but this just isn’t the case. This practice of fine tuning will probably continue for the remaining of my years. The question is, can find peace with that task?
Knowing all that I know now, I chose the perspective of having the regular opportunity to intentionally prime my own thoughts. This technique may not be full-proof when it comes to fighting your own internal conflicts, but I’ve found it a lot more pragmatic than having to take a visit to the counselor’s office weekly.
I used to dissect the why of it all ad infinitum, eliciting ugly emotional responses within. This mental masturbation exercise in rhetoric rewarded me with peace, but rarely. On days when my sights aren’t properly calibrated to peace, I often jump into these questions that can only be answered in theory rather than fact. Maybe next year the masochist inside of me will be put on indefinite leave, but until then I have some more work to do.
Some might gather that it is these precise trains of self-maiming thoughts that are feeding my self-sabotaging ways. While others, like yourself, probably find you’re reading it with a certain agreeability, that only a neurotic mind would ruminate on (: