Skip to main content

Beast Within

I feel so disconnected lately...November, what a month, it only ended five days ago, and it feels like eons. I feel like I've been living in December forever, in an eternity of Christmas carols and too-bright displays of a holiday I just don't want to know right now.

And at the same time...I feel as though I have no right to complain. I feel like I've been freed, after twenty-five years of hard labor, and now that I am back out in the sun, I don't know what to do. Here I am, doing day by day what I have spent my whole life working towards...and I still have one hand at the edge of the pool.

I've had this energy inside me as long as I could remember. It's a rising feeling that feels like an ever-brightening bulb beginning at the pit of my stomach and filling my whole being, pressing against my skin from the inside and threatening to burst its way out, free of mortality.
It was borne from rage, no doubt, years of what my father and I put each other through and kids in school who kept finding ways to be crueler...although to be honest, there were plenty of times I brought it on myself. I would talk shit just to get them to come after me, sometimes. I couldn't tell you why. I just did it.

I grew up--that tends to happen, and this energy stayed with me. I first thought it was evil, and I was okay with it. I learned to control how bright the bulb got. I could see the punch coming from two towns over and in that primal moment when I caught the wrist, and forced my enemy to the ground by his shoulder, I was on top of the world. In the madness of destruction that is a fight, I was the wolf king of the jungle.

But it was evil. It had to be repressed, purged.
So I quit fighting. I tried to suppress it, keep it down, and get it out of my system altogether. I tried to literally stop being angry--a fool's errand. I tried to settle into this uncomfortable truce with this beast I had inside me...I was stupid enough to believe that it would only come when I summoned it. Even if I had no idea what it was.

I'm telling you I believed it was evil until two days ago.

I should've been at the pit of depression--hell, I probably still am--I lost my job and my fiance (whom I sacrificed aforementioned job for) inside of two weeks.
But I finished NaNoWriMo.
I may have been *technically* out of work, but I'll clear enough on my contract to cover rent, food, and bills for the month. How unbelievable is that? I hope I never get past the shock.
My job would take me back eventually and back me up anywhere I wanted to go, making the whole world my playground again.
I love my children, and I'm talking to them again.
I lost Sam. I loved Sam. I will love others, and I might lose them too. I'll keep loving and losing until I find The One.

So there it is.
Couple of days ago, I'm at my first writer's meeting at the local library and here I am, swiping ideas back and forth with people who have the same type of creative buzz I do. It was the first time in life I'd ever done this. I was ready to come out of my skin and I don't think they knew what to make of me, but they seem to have accepted me all the same.

On my way out of the library...there it is again. The light bulb didn't gradually appear like normal; this time it was at its brightest, instantaneously bursting and filling me up to the point that I thought I might leave the ground. It was the first time I ever felt it...and I was not angry.
Not now. I told myself. There's no reason for it. Not now. Not now!

It was so intense that it became a physical pain, threatening to fold my stomach in half. I let loose a grunt and fell to one knee, clutching my stomach it hurt so badly. I figured it was stress; everything was finally getting the better of me. Why now?

Then I heard it, as much as I felt it; the omnipotent voice in my head that has never steered me wrong.
Let go.
At first I didn't know what to think, I hadn't heard it before, but as sure as night is above me now, I heard it again.
Let go!!
I looked up, ahead of me, down the street. It was vacant as far as I could see it. My heart was a percussive drum resonating throughout my ears and the rest of my body. The light receded within me to a dim fuse, my legs became dynamite.
One foot in front of the other, feeding from the wolf within, I took off. Racing down the street at top speed, fast enough to make Sonic wonder what the hell just passed him, I had a conversation in my head;
What about the bum knee?
There is no bum knee.
There is no pain.
There is no excuse.
There is no reason why you cannot.

I couldn't have stopped if I wanted too--and I didn't. Even as the cold air raked its way out of my lungs and my legs became rubbery, I had ceased to be any kind of human being for a scant few moments and transcended, allowing the wolf to assume control, finally, without any complaints from the logical side. I felt like I was doing fifty. I covered five blocks in less minutes than that.
When I got to my house, I became human again--and nearly passed out, wondering what the hell I was thinking.

I think science calls what I feel every so often a state of euphoria. I don't need a technical term. It just felt great, and for the first time, as I get up and go to bed when I want, talk to who I want, eat what I want, do what I want, and still get my responsibilities done...this is what I spent my life dreaming about, don't you dare get scared now.

I felt like writing this...I'm going to watch Hancock and hit the sack. I have a lot to do tomorrow.


Comments

tammey said…
Hey Hon;
I'm glad that you found your inner peace so to speak. I'm also very happy that you listened to what your heart had to say, and let it guide ya that nite, and the ones cominin up of what ya need to do.
I'm behind ya in whatever you do decide to do. If that involves movin or stayin here. This wild mustang will always be supportive of ya.
Love ya,
Tammey

Popular posts from this blog

America: A True Story About Hatred and Unity

I wanted fast food tonight. That was all. I found myself at Burger King to pick up my wife's order. I was a few cars deep when I spotted the Confederate flag. I surreptitiously snapped a few photos. This was going to be a very different story. When I pull out of Burger King, it turns out there's more than one. In fact, there are four trucks, each flying variations of the flag. I have to go around the front of them to avoid an accident. They're parked right in the middle of the road. As I drive around them, each person in the vehicle makes it a point to ensure I see them. I do. They see me too. When I get to McDonald's (which is in the same lot), I learn that they're not taking debit cards at the moment. Terrific. I wanted chicken nuggets and instead, I get a run-in with the new Confederacy. So I make my way back to Burger King, again appearing in full view of the trucks. I place my order, get it, pay, and pull out. Then one of the

The Long Road Home

I will end you tonight. No, wait. That's not where the story starts. The story starts two and a half years before this, when Michelle (referred to as Michelle for legal reasons because SATAN was too heavily trademarked) reached out to me by Facebook. She mentioned that we played the same Facebook game and she wanted to say hi. I had never, in fact, even heard of the Facebook game. But I was freshly broken out of a relationship and she was pretty with a good body so I said "Hurr, okay." Conversation ensues. She tells me we came up in the same place. We did not come up in the same place. We spent one night in San Francisco talking. But I really wanted to sleep with her. So, "Hurr, okay." Fast forward a few months. I've left Missouri for the beautiful Pacific Northwest. I've settled into the ass end of Lynnwood, a suburb of Seattle. The apartment was so bad that the landlord wrote the mold on the wall off as "crayon coloring

Wave Rocketbook Reviewed

I love writing by hand, and I love notebooks. I'll often devote entire budgets to them and when Officemax has one of their twenty-five cent sales, I'll buy them out. I often draft by hand, finding that the scene comes together more purely when it flows from a pen rather than a keyboard. So when DailyDot advertised a durable new type of notebook that you could use over and over again for the cheap price of twenty-five (thirty after shipping) US Dollars? I'm down. The Wave Rocketbook is meant to be elegant in its design and simple in its execution. The instructions come on the bag itself, and only the pen and notebook are included. The pen feels like any other, so you have to be careful not to mix it into your collection or you will end up marking your notebook with the wrong pen (like I did). The ink is erasable, which is a bonus. A place to put the pen would've been nice, but it clips easily, if not securely, into the ringed binding. The paper is thick and