“… I wonder if I will ever find a language to speak of the things that haunt me the most.” – Bao Phi, Vocabulary.
sometimes language is a good weapon. in the sense that it can be the light to chase away the ghosts that haunt us. however, i wonder what happens when we do not have the words to articulate what is really going on with us. what do we fall back on when our language falls short of offering salvation. maybe all salvation is temporary as Augustus Waters said. maybe that is why i keep coming back here to write again and again and again. it is like some sort of renewal of salvation is it not? over the years i have noticed with increasing trepidation how often i am unable to speak when my own voice is needed the most. it seems i cannot rely on myself to be my best advocate. and if i cannot count on myself to do this, then who will do it for me? “It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for; I can never fight for myself, but for others, I can kill.” – Emilie Autumn, The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls.
language and finding healing. taking back what was forcefully taken away in the first place. Frantz Fanon in The Wretched of The Earth postulates that decolonization is a violent phenomenon. i think i am trying to decolonize myself from all the words, the false narratives placed on me by either people or circumstances or both, from the trauma, from everything terrible that has taken residence within me. Emily Dickinson in one of her poems says one does not need to be a chamber to be haunted, and i understand that. i know what haunts me. naming them is the problem. and i am trying to find ways to do that. it is a way of decolonization. even if sometimes speaking out for myself leaves me literally gasping for air. i have mini panic attacks when saying what i really want. and i keep thinking when did this even become a thing? how did this become a thing? when i hear someone call me brave i wonder who they are talking about. maybe i do not understand the different forms of bravery.
i understand how hard it is to hear some words leave your mouth. it seems they cannot leave without tearing you apart. some blood needs to be shed to placate the wrath of mentioning some events. so i understand why some people respond to trauma with mutism. why the words just will not come out. why the words insist on remaining lodged in the teeth. completely immovable. i know even in my family we will never address my illnesses by their names. we are skittish about saying these things out loud. we can talk about the illnesses in terms of it happening to other people but not to me. ironically, i would be overwhelmed if we suddenly starting discussing my diagnosis. what is my diagnosis in the first place? the silence is worrying me because i have picked on this behaviour. which is quite illogical since mental health including mental disorders is my field of study. these days i find myself unable to mention my illnesses too. i use other words. complications. issues. problems. etc. what the hell is that. i know i inherited the silence in the family but now even in this? is there not a thing that the silence will not devour and swallow?
i know sometimes people speak up and things get worse. or feel heavier. there are times i speak up and vulnerability feels more like an anchor weighing me down than wings for soaring. i speak up and the feeling in my chest gets heavier. okay. so i am sharing my body with intense grief and sadness. i tell myself this time i will be completely honest with my family or the therapist about what is really going on. then my voice gets lost. sometimes we speak in hope of things changing and when they do not, you realize there is no need to keep speaking up. i tell my sibling do you know there are some truths i cannot tell you people. and she says no it is not about the reception of your truth. what is really important is that you have spoken it. i want to tell her sometimes the reception being a heartbreaking silence can be as painful as being explicitly doubted. i mean silence can be a problem too right? like how ideahlism (IG) says that the thing about silence is that it is so easy for it to turn into a lie. it is easy to fill the silence with anything. so here i am confessing everything. breaking the silence for once. being totally honest for once. and you respond with silence. what am i supposed to do with your silence? what am i supposed to fill it with?
is speaking up really worth it anyway? i keep asking myself. is it? ” … sometimes i wake up and everything i do feels like a lie…i don’t know who i am lying to but for some reason the truth just does not feel like an option… ” – ideahlism.
there is a story i read about a group of villagers who came across a glowing blue ball. enchanted with the ball’s beauty, they decided to carry it to their village. turns out the ball was radioactive and all the villagers died because of its poisonous nature. that is how truth feels like. it feels like it will kill you. the comfort is that you will die glowing. i wonder if my metaphoric glowing blue death will be worth it. “I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary. I’d rather quit…” – Richard Siken, War of the Foxes.
Ps. I’ll be honest. i thought articulating the hostage series would be easy. well not really easy but at least relatively so. but i am afraid it didn’t go as planned. which is a bit sad. the point is, there is a freedom in speaking out and breaking free from narratives placed on us by others. the problem is that sometimes it costs too much to speak up. what then.
“…but many silences have a destructive origin and destructive consequences. they are the result of shame, or fear, or inhibition. often these silences are connected to a sense that survival depends on them. that we will be stronger by being silent. to suffer in silence, like grieving in silence, is destructive of the self… ” – Gregory Orr, Poetry as Survival.
“…and when we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard nor welcomed but when we are silent we are still afraid.So it is better to speak remembering we were never meant to survive.” – Audre Lorde, A Litany for Survival.
also, i am writing again. somehow. which is a good thing.
TotallyUnhinged 
Leave a comment