Like a lot of people I play my cards quite close to my chest most of the time, yet all the while there is a quiet rumbling beneath the surface of my skin. Like an itch you can’t scratch, the rumbling is always there. Small observations you make about the world around you and what these things mean. A train of thought chundering along that contains a negative intrusive thought you have developed which gains carriages made up of all the offshoots of negative thoughts from the one you started with gathering pace all the time. It may have come from a negative experience or just as likely from nothing much at all, but it’s there and no matter how many coping strategies you have, or how many books on mindfulness you might have read, the train of thought keeps chugging along All. The. Time. Eventually in my case the train inevitably derails and I reach for my phone and compose a text. This text is complex and lengthy, it covers the minutae of the thoughts that have been thundering through my subconscious, it is me, unadulterated and heading towards an unsuspecting persons inbox. As soon as it’s sent I immediately feel both relief and horror as I realise my soul in that moment has been laid bare. I consider the multitude of reactions the receiver will have and I’m left with options; one, to wait for a response. This is torture, waiting to see what someone makes of your ramblings. Will they be freaked out? Will they tell me I’m being ridiculous? Will they think I’m a bad person? Or worst of the bunch, will they ignore me entirely? Or a second option, text them again! Usually an apology for the first text, or a self deprecating message apologising for being an awful drag.
The contents of my soul are purged in this way quite often and it always, always plays out like this. You would be wrong to think I’d have found a better way to deal with it now. The truth it I have tried many different things to stop my itchy fingers but alas, I’m still doomed to repeat it.