Storm

Reposting this earlier piece. It was written as a means of describing my worst days before diagnosis and medication. It also happens to accurately describe some of my days this past 8 months....

Storm

 

She resisted the instinctual urge to put her hands over her ears; knew the sound was from within, generated by the storm in her mind.

 

This roaring wind is set to destroy her--sink her, and her defenses--intelligence and intuition, reason and experience were nearly finished, extinguished; only instinct remained.   No time for repairs or prayers, no resources, no refuge.

 

She looked around the crowded room, cocked her head slightly as she watched all the mouths opening, closing. There should be noises, sounds with their movements but the din of the approaching storm only she could hear drowned out all but her own thoughts.

 

Someone touched her arm; startled, she turned to gauge the danger from this, another threat.  Mouth opening, closing,  much too close, and she sensed the noises she couldn’t hear were directed at her.  Instinct, some remembered protocol, prompted her to nod and smile before turning away.  She moved toward the only exit in the crowded room; this room filled with mouths making sounds, noises she could not hear.

 

Every mouth in the path to freedom turned in her direction, opening, closing, slowing her race to safety;  panic rising as she feared she would surely be swallowed up.

 

She felt the mouth that found its way clear to press against her face, rapid movements stirring the air and filling her ear with a soft warmth.  She sensed urgency, importance,  but heard only the increasing roar of this monstrous mind-storm.

 

She struggled, panicked,  pushed hard against the last remaining mouths, straining to reach the exit before the storm overtook her, delivered the fatal blow, swallowed her whole.  Oh, God, she wasn’t going to make it.  She would be lost, drowned--not fair, not...

 

“NOT FAIR!!”  Startled, she realized that she had pushed this sound from within herself to the outside.  She stopped;  watched as mouth after mouth ceased movement, the air in the room stilled and she knew they were silent. 

 

She also now knew what she had to do, her only chance.  She silently begged their forgiveness.

 

Opening her mouth wide, she forced the mind-storm from her now frantic brain to her mouth, pushed, allowed it to escape.  Eyes closed, she released the pent-up fury,  the frustrated rage, the crippling hurt and sorrow.  The storm poured out of her mouth into the room, an seemingly endless roar of her.

 

Finally spent, she slowly opened her eyes, drained, completely purged of the near-fatal force and for a moment, could not interpret for her weak and exhausted brain what her eyes beheld.

 

No mouths moved, nor the bodies they were attached to, nor the pieces of bodies strewn throughout the room like a child’s jigsaw puzzle dumped on the table and waiting to be reassembled.   She heard her own panting breath, nothing more.

Reviews

[Shazbatt969]

The tortured sounds of someone drowning in life, trying to run through treacle and quicksand trying to outrun the bad news , all the more powerful for it's personal content

[Neville]

lease excuse the fact I have started reading your posts arse about face... I like to be a little different.. otherwise some of these older writes tend to get lost and or forgotten... I must say, I thoroughly enjoyed this my friend a very credible if not a tad scary tale if ever there was... All Good Things and true.. Neville

[Coyote Poetry]

Powerful use of description dear Carol. You made the reader believe every word. We can become a time-bomb and if we do. Can create great damage. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry and your thoughts.
Coyote

[Carol Cashes]

Thank you for reading this attempt to portray the overwhelming feeling of choking on equal parts of rage and fear. We all know which one remains...but anger, properly channeled can be constructive, not destructive and I work damn hard to apply this belief. Okay, sometiiimmees, I don't really try that hard, but anger propels me forward when I want to stop...just sit down and stop. Stop struggling, stop dealing with s**t, just...stop. When my mother dies, and my husband's health improves enough that I'm not his daily and constant caregiver...stopping is my first act of freedom.

[Coyote Poetry]

I pray all things get better. I do understand stress. Can kill us. I hope you can slow down and enjoy your life dear Carol.

[Carol Cashes]

It's the small and simple joys that sustain me. My little community had its 2nd annual Christmas parade and MY HOUSE WAS ON THE ROUTE!!! Stood in the comfort of my fenced front yard and waved and woo-hoo-ed the high school band and caught beads and candy. When Santa Claus came into view as the final float, I realized I was crying. ME! But, they were truly tears of absolute and pure joy. Oh, and I love bacon. Once a month, I will cook up the whole package and munch and snack on it like chips. Because I can. That's a simple and pure joy, relatively cheap, too when you consider I could be doing illegal drugs or drinkin' and carousin' about.

[Coyote Poetry]

Sound like a wonderful life dear Carol. Have some fun and be safe.

[issa]

I really liked this piece! It is indeed a bit similar to my story and I found this to be very inspiring. Very captivating writing. Thanks for pointing this out to me, I'm excited to read more of your uploaded pieces.

[Carol Cashes]

I'm glad you liked it. Your mention of "puzzle pieces" made me think of it and between us we have shown two sides of the same puzzle, yes?

[barleygirl]

Very interesting & amazing way of showing this! I get the sensations of being closed off from everyone else in the room, as if in a glass compartment. Many creative expressions to show vividly how this might feel. It wasn't as raw & intense as I might've drawn such a portrait, but I like your style & it gives me ideas about doing things differently. Understated can often be more impactful than dramatic, huh? *smile* (((HUGS)))

[Carol Cashes]

A large part of its brevity is my attempt at Flash Fiction, trying to stay 500 hundred words or less. Thank you so much for reading this as it was also an attempt to portray how I felt when more things mattered to me and I would feel anxious.

[barleygirl]

We all have our various brushes with insanity, so that's why this is relatable . . .

[Carol Cashes]

Indeed, it's why I took up Creative Cussin', in my car with the windows up, which was working fine until John the Baptist pointed out that I might inadvertently cuss a lip reader with a .45!

[barleygirl]

You're creatively hilarious! *smile*

[Jimmy Yetts]

Tragedy brilliantly portrayed.
Stunning poetry!

[Carol Cashes]

Thank you so much for reading this. It was a "pouring out" of the way I've felt before my give-a-damn was broken...and medication.

[Samuel Dickens]

I find this griping, frightening and fully realistic. (Not that I've ever experienced anything this bad myself) Whether it's a squirrel you've run over or mental issues, getting it out and talking about it has to help.

[Carol Cashes]

It is very frightening to experience what many professionals have defined as an "anxiety attack". There is no one set of symptoms, as the few that I experienced can only be described as being in the middle of a tornado, everything is swirling around you at such a speed that when you attempt to reach out and grab something - anything - it's gone before you can. It's disconcerting and unnerving. Trying grasp an object or thought that seems hell bent on eluding you disorients you and you can feel "swallowed up" by events, people and emotions that cannot be pinned down. This story was an attempt to explain all that without being clinical. Thanks for reading this little piece about how, when I was younger and more things mattered to me, I felt. The expression "get a grip" has more meaning to me than most because of my personal experience.

[Samuel Dickens]

I believe I had a panic attack once, about 1980. As if someone else had seized control of my brain, I ran around like a headless chicken for about five minutes.

[Carol Cashes]

*laughing* Yup. Now imagine that lasting more than five minutes and happening without warning more than once. I think those episodes generated the "yelling" part. STOP!!! *pant pant* S.T.O.P.!! It helped me to focus and brought all thought to a halt until I could regroup. As I don't "feel" or care as much anymore, nor do I allow into my life discord and drama that is not of my making, all of that has ceased completely.

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

"An endless roar of her"-stellar! Beautifully written account of the invisible prison of mental illness. Hallucinations, delusions, distortions-"the mouths"-that are the chains binding the protagonist. Amazing, frightening imagery. Unbearable suffering and stigma. We hope she gets the help she needs, and the mouths are silenced forever...

[Carol Cashes]

It was how I felt some days before I was properly DIAGONISED and CORRECTLY medicated. I thought if I let it out, it ain't gonna be pretty and somebody's gonna get their feelers hurt...

[Carol Cashes]

And thank you for reading. That "she" was me, and I did get help. I use humor to dilute my anger so I like to say that I'm not medicated for me, but for ya'll!

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

I applaud you my friend! Brave and courageous and talented you certainly are!:)

[Carol Cashes]

You are such a sweet (and I NEVER use that word lightly) soul. If your avatar is your pic, it even shines from your eyes. When I get reeeeal close and squint...no, I'm kidding. Cleaned my glasses and the shine is still there. It must be real.

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Ha! You are Sweet (!) & so genuine & funny! Thanks for the touching words! Yup- picture is of my dog & I. She is my guardian angel-& believe me, I need one! :)))

[Carol Cashes]

My guardian angel sits on the edge of my bed, smoking, and when I wake up, she just sighs...and says "Okay...let's do this."

[Maria]

This truly is powerful and reminds me of the few times I suffered panic attack, without knowing and a few after I understood my condition, but of course, many thought I was being childish or selfish...Yet I never let that deter me.

[Carol Cashes]

Good. I personally feel that anyone who claims they are never anxious for no obvious reason or they don't have panic attacks either don't live in the same world we do, or they are agoraphobics and never leave their homes. Shout out your stuff. Get it out. Like crying tears is your body's way of releasing toxins as well as cathartic. I just prefer the shoutin'...okay, and the cussin...

[Maria]

Hahaha yeah you know you are right whatever works best, is good to do.

[Carol Cashes]

Yeah, screaming creative obscenities to other drivers who can't hear me or result in any repercussions makes me a lot nicer to my husband when I get home.

[Maria]

That is a good one, I might use it in the future.