Writer's Block

ca·pa·bil·i·ty  [key-puh-bil-i-tee]
noun, plural ca·pa·bil·i·ties.
1. the quality of being capable; capacity; ability: His capability was unquestionable.
2. the ability to undergo or be affected by a given treatment or action: the capability of glass in resisting heat.
3. Usually, capabilities. qualities, abilities, features, etc., that can be used or developed; potential: Though dilapidated, the house has great capabilities.
Origin: 1580–90;  (< Middle French capabilité ) < Late Latin capābili ( s ) capable + -ty2

This is big. I feel like I'm standing in front of a 1000 foot concrete wall. And I'm gone...I can't even look at the paper. That's why I forced myself to write the definition above. Holy hell it's hot. Feel like I could pass out. Cheeks flushed.Plush. Racing. Veins throbbing. Head dizzy, light, fuzzy, going. I can feel the numbness washing over me, shielding me, guarding me from the inevitable pain that will arise. The numbness cannot be penetrated. The numbness is safe. I feel out of my mind. Psycho? (Ask Dr. Grose.) Hands sweating, floor moving, room spinning, anti-psychotics. Floating. Funeral story. Find it. Ignore. I feel sick. I hear a Mustang. I want to run. I want a motorcycle. I want to go fast. I want to face danger. What is the matter? Can I help or will I be forced to sit-back and watch the frustration well-up inside you? Ringing in my ears. Gone. Drop it. Compensate. Back-pedal. What is on your mind? Let me throw something out there. Head pounding. People are manipulative, not authentic. 

Middle-page, halfway!

Capability. Irony? Mind blown. This could be the turning point not only in my recovery, but also in my life. As I turn the page and leave the past behind I can move on. I haven't even discussed it yet but I know this is where the capability conversation is leading. A new page. A new half. Shut down. So numb I cannot feel afraid to write on the next page. I can't breathe. Not here. Not in this building. Not in this world. I touch the center of the page to ensure it's real. It is. Nothing feels real. Nothing feels safe. Tornado. Footsteps down the hall. Voices in the background. Words are heard but not registered. Is this real? My eyes are open but I cannot focus. Floating. High? Definitely not really. Feeling that disconnection, feeling unpresent. Can anyone see me? I'm shaking but I'm not scared, sweating but am not overheated. Red dots and lines fill my vision when I close my eyes. I try to look at them but they float too. My eyelids flutter, tremoring like an earthquake. Does my hand hurt? I'm not here. Out of body, out of mind. Deep, unfulfilled breath. Attracted. I'm attracted. Twisted. The only word that's made me smile... I'm so caught up in the craziness that is my mind that I just crossed the mid-point without anxiety. This anxiety was only concocted by my mind anyway. If I hadn't stopped to think about it, this crazy ironic notion would not have entered my head. I don't want to come back, come down, be here. Can I just walk through this place being in my own head? Is that possible? Am I capable? I've ignored the entire point. I'm good at that.

Capability: Is the person capable of giving you what you want? Do you have what the other person wants?

Enter cold sweat. Recovery done. Hah. How long will this numb-honest last? I blink and everything shifts for a split second and back. False pretense. Sweaty palms. Pen slipping. Calm them down. Feet tapping. Body shifting. Voices scratchy, not emotionally here. Driven. Done. Done? Capability...

No. Heart stopping. No. Always the underlying issue. No. Numb. Dizzy. Pass out. Fail. Break. Numb out. Get out. Run. Hide. Jump. Fail.