1156 THE GAME OF FOOTBALL TAKES PLACE INSIDE MY MIND

2014
Here's a bird's eye view of the ways in which
The game of football takes place inside my mind:

First of all—
Two teams are on the field, 24/7
In addition to managing and coaching both teams
A portion of my brain must serve as referee, suggesting that
I need to discern which team is
Taking the ball down field:
My subconscious defenses or
My conscious mind's strong sense of
Intuitive, self directed thought

Secondly—
My brain needs to summon its cheer squad each time
Confusion causes a sudden bout of anxiety to spike

If you ask why confusion causes anxiety to spike
I'd reply:
In the aftermath of my sister's death
My three year old thought processor often felt
Too confused to know where to turn for support
During that time of trauma, those responsible for
Listening and speaking in such a way as to teach me without
Putting me down had been so grief struck as to have
Left me to figure out what was going on for myself—and
As I'd misperceived quite a lot, guess whose brain
Adopted enough mixed messages to really mix myself up?

Fairly recently, when I was diagnosed with PTSD
I came to see which part of my brain needs to
Coach my think tank to take hold of confusion
Before confusion grows so great as to
Tackle all semblance of clarity of thought, causing me
To fumble the ball

For example, I need to differentiate those times when
My inner coach is putting me down and
Benching my self esteem vs those times when
My inner coach calls for time out in hopes of
Rallying my leadership skills, which, in turn
Have learned to call upon
My line of control in the heat of each play so that the
Knowledgable portion of my brain can identify and tackle
An unexpected burst of defensive PTSD, which is attempting to
Intercept the ball by tackling the lucidity of
My current train of thought

In order to stop a sudden burst of PTSD from
Running down field with the ball
My think tank must gain control over
Emotional static, which runs interference
With my sense of clarity for this reason:
In the past, when I was in dire need of support
The blind led the blind, suggesting that
None could see this fact:
Traditional forms of therapy do not successfully
Heal a mind of sudden spikes of anxiety, caused by PTSD

As I was not diagnosed with PTSD until fairly recently
No one had a clue as to why
An overwhelming sense of confusion
Swirling through my mind
Overwhelmed my personal strengths, from time to time

And I don't hold therapists, with whom I'd worked in the past
Accountable for having missed this diagnosis for this reason:
My communication skills were so well developed as to
Have deemed my defensive wall so impermeable as to have
Fooled everyone, including professionals, as to the
Underlying nature of my fear of abandonment until
An eagle-eyed psychologist saw past my persona, and
Thus did I take my first step into
This adventure of self discovery in hopes of identifying
Which of my personal strengths are, in truth, half baked

Over these past several years, I've worked in earnest to
Peel away so many layers of my defensive wall as to expose
Vulnerabilities that none knew were in need of sensitive support

During this lengthy time of exposed vulnerability
My spirit has taken so many solid hits that I continue to
Find myself in need of a supportive team

As my requests for help had been new to every ear
No one paid me any mind, suggesting that
I found myself carrying the ball, by myself, until
Exhaustion hit so hard as to knock my spirit to the ground

This week, I've had reason to carry the ball, again
And just today did I come to see that due to past experience
Subconscious fear floods my think tank with worry concerning
Finding myself running with the ball—
Alone on the field of life—while facing down the other team, whose
Need to put me down remains unchanged—and—
Thus does fear—due to deja vu—run interference with my sense of clarity—
For sound reason—yet again
Why?
Well, each time my conscious mind confronts
An unexpected bout of PTSD, my think tank
Feels like it's about to battle through a war which
Has no end—until—
My well-practiced powers of intuition remind me of this fact:
Having come to understand that my think tank crashes during
Each bout of PTSD, I must count on
My brain—working as a whole—to give birth to whatever
String of insights is readying itself to tunnel through
The dark side of my mind, thus
Enabling my sense of self worth to see the light of day—
Without fail!

For heaven sakes!
I need to give myself a break!
The string of insights that make up this post is actually profound!
I mean, it's no wonder why mental exhaustion hits so hard!

Whenever I sense intuition seeking
To drill a hole through each next layer of my defensive wall
My spirit needs to coach my cheer squad to
Encourage me to breathe and review
Insights from the past in order to coax
Whatever new string of insights is laboring to be fully exposed
And as I appreciate all of the support that
I've received, recently, my think tank has good reason
To calm anxiety at least enough for
Lucid thought to gain extra yardage toward
Carrying the ball toward my ultimate goal as I work to achieve
One first down after another—and if you ask me to name that
Ultimate goal, I'd reply:
I'm in need of releasing the secret that terrifies me most of all
You see, I've learned that upon revealing that secret to myself
Will set me free of feeling unworthy of love …

Today, I can consciously reassure myself of this fact:
Most of the rookies
Who'd been blind to the depth of each insight, which
Had emerged from my mind during these past several years
Have—over these past few years—had sound reason
To see the light, suggesting that—
Unlike the past, when my leadership skills had felt the need to
Win each down on my own—
Today, I can count on several seasoned, first string players
Bolstered by two cheer squads to help me
Take the ball down field—as long as
I don't let my self demeaning traits drown out
The courage of my conviction, which continues to
Strengthen the validity of my voice

As you can see—
Complex components, comprising
The whole of my brain must grow
Well-practiced at multi-tasking or else
One portion of my brain will
Struggle against another like
Two opposing teams, and
Though I could go on and on describing
The ways in which two teams
Vie for the ball inside my mind
Let's assume that I've made it my business
To learn how to heal from
Bouts of PTSD than I'll ever know about
The intricate plays that take place
On the football field which exists in your mind
Thus defining your life differently from mine

I guess what I'm trying to say is this:
Each time a new string of insights emerges from within
I gain yardage—play by play—game by game
And thus do I coach my think tank to retrieve the ball
No matter how many times my defense system
Pushes my sense of logic back

Each time anxiety strikes and I can't identify why
Experience signals me to look to
My power of intuition to
Coach my sense of courage to
Hang in there throughout each play of the game, until—
That final string of insights breaks through
The last layer of my defensive wall, at which time
I'll make that final touchdown, necessary to exposing
The subconscious secret
That haunts my conscious well being
To some extent, every day

When I'm asked, why push yourself so hard
I reply:
I don't.  In fact I coast and play until
Anxiety has cause to arise—and if I believe
To know why but can't find relief that's when
My sixth sense suggests that whatever
Is disrupting my peace of mind may be related to
An unidentified issue that runs too deep for
Conscious awareness, and if I ignore
Whatever's causing this unamed fear to erupt
I'll trip over that which may prove to be
A mixed message, indefinitely
And invariably I've found it wise to clarify
Subconscious hot spots, which ignite anxiety to spike

PS
Though this is the second post
I've published in almost two weeks
That does not mean I've not written more

The fact of the matter is this:
I chose to labor over several posts until a string of old insights
Gave birth to a string of new insights, which had need to see
The light of day

As hiding the truth from my conscious mind
Was the only way I'd felt safe from terror when I was young
You can imagine
How focused my whole brain must be before
Intuition can prod the readiness of
My conscious mind to dive ever more deeply into
my subconscious—until such time as
It's deepest, darkest secret has been fully disclosed
In truth, my adventure into self discovery
Proves to be the toughest work that
My brain, working as a whole, has undertaken, as of yet

Need I say that something must have happened, recently
To stir the pot, thus catalyzing
My struggle with this latest bout of PTSD?

Need I say, that upon cocooning and writing and rewriting—
My conscious mind, coached by intuitive trains of thought
Has continued to probe, ever more deeply into
Subconscious thought until, finally, another layer of
My defensive wall gave way, thus thwarting
This current spike of anxiety from running away with game
(I don't ever want to experience the paralyzing fear that
Caught me unaware as Will's cancer surgery drew near)

Now that some semblance of clarity
Has sacked this current bout of PTSD—
Suggesting my having made another first down—
I'll publish today's post, followed by those, which
Will offer you a bird's eye view of
Intuition directing my conscious mind to intercept the ball, thus
Stopping my defense system from controlling play after play—

Oh—one more thing—if you know anything about football—
Suggesting that you're chuckling at how little
I actually know about the game—
Please feel free to laugh away, knowing that I'm doing the same—
I mean, though I've become a fan—
Playing football is not my thing
Sending you a weary but natural smile,
Your less-than-super-sized friend,
Annie