Semente

Went for a Snarky Puppy concert with Yaoch the other day, which turned out to be a pleasant surprise; these days I’m listening to Culcha Vulcha on loop trying to recreate the sense of amazement I had from listening to them live, but it’s just not the same.

I headed down to Resonance’s concert to support a friend (which was kinda ruined having my mind blown to a globally recognised jazz band merely 5 days before) and she seemed overjoyed at my presence, which seemed like part of my weekly care-package of “No, Shao, you’re not as worthless as your warped mind tells you”.

Laid in bed listening to mom wax about how her life used to be toilets above pits, cycling several kilometres from the farm just to reach the bus stop to go to primary school, and being denied college education so that her brothers could have it instead. I rolled over, smooshed her face with my palms and told her with halting awkwardness how proud I was of being her son.

Playing a whole lot of Minecraft; such a yo-yo of disappointment – Build a house! Get it blown-up by a Creeper. Find diamonds for armour! Fall into lava and lose everything. Find a clay-filled canyon several kilometres away! Fall into lava and lose everything.

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Several weeks ago, the doctor said I needn’t meet him any more, that it was the last session we’d have. Not because I was particularly difficult to deal with or anything, I think, just that it was time. I had nothing in particular to tell him at that session, so I filled out the paper he handed to me.

I felt small again, like a primary school kid that had to crayon-in a line drawing of six apples, who couldn’t colour within the lines for nuts. Except this time, I had to fill in the branches of a large, printed oak with the ‘things I’d learnt’ like “meditation”, “looking in the mirror” and “following the book like a mantra”. It felt like I was doing a lot of nothing, which was strange seeing how used to writing out my thoughts I was.

He coaxed me out the door after reassuring me that it’d always be open. I didn’t feel ready to face the world without his handholding. Still, it’s been several weeks and I’m still waiting for a meltdown, but nothing has happened yet besides a few thousand-yard stares from listening to hurtful comments and a load of top-blowing from frustration.

This Disease of the mind… I can’t tell if it was ever there, or if it was something I conjured out of thin air to justify my wretched life. I can vaguely remember nights spent sobbing in a fetal position, or hours spent staring into the clouds vacantly before collapsing in bed, exhausted from my mental runaround,  but feeling “fine” now makes all of that just a glimmer in the horizon. Still, being set free means have no crutch of an excuse left now, which feels more emasculating than empowering.

Reservist begins in a few days! I’m excited to see my mates again in that sharp-smelling, sticky and prickly environment and yet hesitantly ashamed at my slip-slide back into physical mediocrity.