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Quelling The Kaleidoscope

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Her thoughts gave her motion sickness. They reminded her of the roomful of black track, her father forced her to watch when she was a child, that had tiny cars, of all colors, racing about.

Some of the small, shiny, toys would travel the same path continually, never deviating from their steady pace, others would gather speed until they threw themselves from the track and rolled across the hardwood floors, only to crash into the nearest wall, marring the paint of the base moulding. 

The electrical smell of the track and the cars combined was also present in the deluge of the reality of events tumbling about with things that could be, and things that could have been, they were racing around the lobes of her brain and crashing into her skull. The lingering memory of the long ago odor only made the fog in her head more heavy and dense.

One thought could not be separated from another, and they became a gigantic mass, just as the cars would eventually have done, had her father not deliberately slowed their pace, and carefully re-positioned them on the track he had painstakingly pieced together.

She had always hated when she heard him call her name to watch the swirling cars, they hurt her head, they made her dizzy and the smell, along with the movement, sickened her stomach.

The movement of the thoughts was no different. It had to be their combination that left her feeling once more like a child. There were so many, ranging from intense anger, hurt, and the deepest pain of all pains, to fear, abandonment, joy, excitement, and physical agony. They all were heaped into one massive form that could not be divided.

Most of the feelings, on their own, with the exception of the abandonment and soul piercing pain, would have been easy enough to separate into containers and dealt with in their own time, but there was no time. Each had to be dealt with together, as a whole as soon as possible, or the ship would go down.

As the thoughts collided she kept glancing at the amber colored bottles, filled with a myriad of concoctions, that lay in groups around the room, and wondered which would quell the noise, and which would stop it for eternity, and she was determined to decide which option she would choose.


7 comments:

Claudia Schlottman December 23, 2013 at 2:30 AM  

Teri, this is beautifully written and so heartfelt. I always look forward to your blog. Merry Christmas. <3

Pat Savage December 25, 2013 at 7:13 AM  

Good morning and Merry Christmas Diva! I'm both mesmerized and completely in awe of your very fluid writing style! Your utilizing your "inner voice," "stream of consciousness" or "voice of God" deep within us all. Your so alive and you have manifested into my life in much the same intuitive manner. A true unification of kindred spirits we are experiencing now. Much love to you and to your family! I'm your biggest fan xo

The Bipolar Diva December 25, 2013 at 5:56 PM  

Pat, thank you so much. What incredible comment, thank you so very much, your words have inspired me in so many ways, and much love to you! xoxo

The Bipolar Diva December 25, 2013 at 6:04 PM  

Claudia, thank you. I love you!

Rob-bear December 25, 2013 at 7:09 PM  

I can really feel that torment, Diva. Been there, done that, without the benefit of electrical cars. Slowly becoming more stable — best Christmas in the last 15 years! Taking things about a day at a time; sometimes more, sometimes less.

Blessings and Bear hugs! Lots of love from the old Bear.

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