We’re going to do something here. It may strike a familiar nerve; you may experience some discomfort. Some of you will get it and some of you will not. A few will nod their heads in understanding. Others will scratch theirs for lack of it. Because you must know to nod.
In hindsight where it began and what set it loose in the first place were incomprehensible. Lost amidst the constant scratching and scampering about. By then she just wanted it to end… by any means possible.
At first ignored by a head shake accompanied by rolling eyes. This lack of acknowledgment allowed it to roam about freely. Familiarize itself with the territory and grow. All too soon becoming too big to manage or trap as it began to gnaw.
She steps out onto the patio and lights another cigarette. Her 5th one within the hour. Habit has become addiction. Yet, its delusional pacification seems necessity. As a momentary distraction from this thing which in truth only fuels it with nicotine.
Her coworkers are concerned. They can clearly see she’s being eaten alive. She’ll talk to anyone that will listen. There is initial sympathy and suggestion, but all too soon they stop hearing the woe-filled broken record she has become.
How can she not be broken? It’s always there gnawing, scratching, scampering. It never stops its endless cycle. Waking her up every morning, then a constant companion throughout the day. Gnawing at every thought, scratching at false solutions, scampering in ever widening circles.
It has grown to epic proportions. Every day has become filled with a constantly looping soundtrack only she can here. Her only respite is the night.
Escape between the sheets. Put something on the tele that you don’t even see. Embrace the blissful oblivion that is unconsciousness.
There is no pleasant drifting off as much as there is a mentally exhausted passing out. She will be awakened by the continuous gnawing that manifests in tosses and turns. Forcibly coming full awake in the wee hours of the morning… she weeps. She can’t do this anymore. This must stop at any cost. She will need to find an exterminator before considering exterminating herself.
This is funny. Not funny “Ha Ha” mind you, but rather funny as in unusual, weird and unsettling. Have you ever had something- a phrase, a theory, a metaphor lodged in the deepest recesses of your mind with its origins unknown? Something you believe you’ve heard, think you might have read, possibly seen in a movie or on a television show. Or maybe gathered in a therapy session at some point in your past history.
An ideal that, from your best recollection and by all your definition, seems to you like something that should be universally known by everyone. Or at least those in your like-minded social circles. So, you make inquiries, followed by an in-depth internet search and… nothing. Wherever you go, there you are, and you are there all by your lonesome.
Such is the case in point here. If, perchance, you’ve heard of this metaphorical mental state- the email address is below. And what pretell is this, possibly nonexistent, out of nowhere, psychological comparative? It’s called a – “worry rat.”
Now if you also try to search for it via the internet, be forewarned. No matter how you enter it, it automatically spell-checks and refers you to – “worrywart”- i.e. a person who tends to worry excessively, especially about things that are not worth worrying about. (Gawd almighty isn’t spellcheck the biggest pain in the biggest of arses?) Though they both concern excessive states of worry, the rat is far different from the wart.
A “worry rat” is the metaphorical mental manifestation of your inner anxiety, worry and doubt. They begin quite small and, in some cases, if you ignore them, they scurry away to hide and maybe die. But sometimes they do not.
Sometimes they burrow deep. Nest in your subconscious. Gnawing at every thought, scratching away your defenses and constantly scampering about. Growing… multiplying.
Now we’re not going to discuss resolving an infestation, an internet search will give you that. And if there were any definitive ones this probably wouldn’t be being written. We just want to confirm- for whatever peace of mind it brings- if you have rats… you’re not alone.
I welcome almost all questions, comments via Focus, or email me at wanderingchainsaw@gmail.com. Hope to hear from ya, until then try and stay focused! See ya.
