94. Screaming is cheaper than therapy

Sometimes I cycle to outpace the voices.

For me, these are years long unprocessed thought loops that spill out in passive aggression, or deposited in my shoulders, or my jaw or unexpressed anxiety.

It would also be acceptable for me to write that the voices were disembodied entities or a chemical imbalance, but this is just not the case for me.

Either way something is begging to be released (or seen).

On Tuesday, after spending a lovely day tending to the family garden, I received a phone call that tied me in a knot. It was destabilising. A situation that felt out of my control. A situation guaranteed to put me in a mood.

I took myself home shortly after.

I dumped my belongings on the floor, entered my room, instinctively climbed into the closet, shut the door behind me, curled into a ball and screamed a blood curdling scream into a pile of crumpled up clothes. I managed three rounds of this until I felt it was enough, and when I exited, calmly, I felt a million times better.

Sometimes it’s only so much journaling one can do*

In general, I don’t let myself really go there. Especially in anger. Which is why, even screaming into the void (in the privacy and comfort of my own home, mind you), gave my slight pause: What if my neighbours hear?

Thank god that thought went as quickly as it came.

How many times do we deny ourselves somatic release?

Sometimes scream; you’ll feel better for it.*

Seriously.

What is somatic? /sə(ʊ)ˈmatɪk/

[adjective]

1. relating to the body, especially as distinct from the mind.

   

*I have started a twice weekly jogging routine and occasional kickboxing. I’ve realised that some of my thinking needs to be physically expressed. I need to move. Also, I’m sure this goes without saying, but I am not suggesting you forgo therapy or violate anyone’s self-ownership/sovereignty or dignity. Don’t fuck around and find out.

Till next time xo

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