Day 11 of #100consciousfeelings
Sometimes, when I get ill, I can’t understand it when people are talking to me at a normal speed. It makes me question the integrity of my mind, when I can think again. Makes me feel as though I must have brain damage. Nothing cuts through the thick fog.
In those moments, none of this matters really. All that matters are tiny things. The wordless affection of a cat. The stillness when the silence finally falls. Relief in blankness that is finally condoned. It’s how I imagine my characters to feel when they are finally free of their humanity as zombies. For a year now, I’ve called that state of overwhelm “zombeing.” If one of my dear ones calls me up and asks how I’ve been that day, and I say “Zombeing.” They will know to be patient and talk slowly.
I’ve experienced other states of overwhelm as well. Anxiety, panic attacks at my old job. Times when the only available option was to leave the room and cower in a toilet stall trying not to hyperventilate or cry. On one level, in those cases, I could almost watch myself, or the animal of my body, as it went through its drama, observing quietly as the lab rat human animal panicked and slammed against the walls of the cage society puts around us, as if it is a comfort.
That didn’t scare me as much as that blankness of thought though. Nothing could. When there is nothing left, not even emotion, that’s when the integrity of self breaks a little. It could almost be perceived from the outside as some physically enforced version of zen. But it is less than that. It’s physically enforced void, disconnect... and it scares me more than anything else. #horror #zombie #zombeing #zombieing #overwhelm #overwhelmedart #metallic #metallicink #disinformationoverload #overload #overloaded #toomuch #prsmusicmagazine #prs #collage #art #artinspiration #spiral #spiralling #emotions #thoughts #anxiety #chronicfatigue #cfs #losingidentity #chronicfatiguechronicles #chronicfatiguecaneatmyshorts #chronicillness #keepittogether