A prayer for my meltdown, deferredFeb 12, 2022
God, it’s like this:
My ears roar
With too much noise
My vision narrows,
As everything compresses into one single freeze frame
An oppressive now
As my body screams for relief
Thunder rumbles, threatening the coming storm.
I am melting down inside
And frozen outside
As my child screams and kicks and flails and rages and throws
all my well organized books
to the floor.
My gurus scream at me,
He isn’t giving you a hard time,
he’s having a hard time.
Be there for him!”
And I’m trying.
But it’s all too much
says my sympathetic nervous system
that chain of connections electrifying my body
alerting me of incoming threat
urging me to fight, flee, faint, or fawn to appease and
“Urgent!” it screams at me,
harm is imminent.
Pain is on the way.
And I’m trying.
God, do you see?
When my ears roar and
my vision narrows and
energy flows through all my muscles,
preparing me to fight to the death.
I breathe with all my strength
stemming the inflowing tide,
a nearly futile effort
as the instinct to survive
You created this flow, oh God,
and now it drowns me
as love and survival fill me past overflowing.
What happens to a meltdown differed?
Where does the energy go?
Do you have a redemption plan for this, my God?
When will this flesh sing a new song?
“You’re only doing as well
as your least happy child,”
says my psychiatrist
beckoning to my soul, bound in the fetal position,
with her empathy and understanding
and life-changing medications
that give me the strength to go on.
My least happy child is deeply unhappy
“It’s all your fault” he screams in my face
my fault that the Roblox game glitched at the wrong moment
my fault that the snow is too cold on his hands
my fault that the pasta cooked a minute too long
as though I hold the world in my hands
as though I were the living God
My meltdown deferred rises up in my sleep.
I am caught in a sea of snakes, unable to escape,
they drag me down.
I sweat through my clothes.
My fitness watch says
I didn’t sleep well.
A primal scream
Feet stomp the floor.
My meltdown comes out in its season.
An embodied prayer of desperation.
Can a meltdown feel like praying?
Like holy release
and truth finally shared?
It’s too much for me,
Too much to hold in my tiny human hands.
this Whole World of mine
his world in my hands,
Enfold these feeble fingers
Flesh fastened tight to hold on
for dear life
Soften sinew, muscles,
as safety slips silently
past my wary defenses and you sing me to sleep,
cradled, carefully collected
your presence barely detected
until I feel you hold me,
as I hold my Whole World
and you rock me
your least happy child
who desperately needs to lay down her sweet head
on your waiting shoulder.
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