The inexplicable me


I keep having this conversation with myself. It’s like a repeating thing. Like a broken record that doesn’t realize it’s a repeat until midway through.

The conversation isn’t even interesting. It’s like a long-married couple having the same continuous argument that can never really be resolved without a radical shift in viewpoint.

It’s unlikely, because, at the end of the day, people are who they are. There is actually an honest commitment there in that paradigm. They disagree, but accept each other. They have differences, but just continue on being together because the greater bits of them as an entity is more important.

This, then, is my inner marriage to myself. This thing I need to balance. My desire to overcome my limits, whilst combating with my childhood conditioning to not be a bother or burden. The conditioning is wrong, but the foundation is loving. I just need to dig down and find what can’t change and balance it with what doesn’t serve any longer, but can become something new and somewhat more stable with a little creative reworking. Somehow this inner married couple needs to find a salvageable compromise.

(Sorry. Sometimes the thought concepts are complicated and I don’t have the enthusiasm to break my head down into more recognisable phrases.)

I feel like a dictionary is stuffed inside my head lately. Thoughts that only work if left complicated and annoyingly remote. I can’t simplify certain thoughts, because they just exist in a state of complication.

I just feel rather like a spiders web lately. There are thoughts but they are so intricately connected to other thoughts that only certain words work in explaining them.

I sound like an uppity git, but I can’t help it.

There are too many thoughts that haven’t been properly expressed due to their perceived bombastic construction and lack of possible simplification. I just feel like all the words that haven’t been expressed because they might not be properly understood  have stockpiled themselves in my head until, at last! They explode outward from my brain.

As I said at the start, it’s an oddly familiar conversation that has no perceived end.

I think perhaps the unexpressed thoughts are the ones that damage you most. They live there in your soul completely frustrated and devoid of warmth. They need to be spoken, but not everyone might understand. (It’s rather like a child banging its fists in there.)

So, basically, this is me just letting my brain have a go at saying something that might never truly be understood.

My brain is full of thinking. I feel a kind of correlation with Winnie the Pooh suddenly.

Story of my life really.

🙂

 

 

 

 

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