I feel like there are two (or more) large nesting subterranean rings rings, marked periodically with openings and rotating such that the openings occasionally lineup, leading to... something. The openings are lining up again, and I don't know what I'm going to do about it.
I have the idea that exceptionalism, true exceptionalism, always comes at a cost. These doors, openings, have come around before, and I may have stuck a foot through, or maybe more, but held back, and eventually retreated. I think this is where my fear of madness, of falling through the cracks of society and shared reality, being the disheveled mess that rants at strangers and talks to birds and trees (I do talk to birds and trees, though quietly, and never when I think others are around).
This is coming out as inherently mystical, and while I do mean that, I don't only mean that. I feel like in recent months (year +), I've started to make serious progress at understanding and accepting how my mind works,as though the knife has finally grown to fit the scabbard, and is ready to be harvested, but what's a knife for, if not to cut? I've also grown increasingly frustrated in my dealings with others who don't see what I see, or remember what I've explained (sometimes over, and over,and over again). And yet, this is not stepping through the openings. This is more like light seeping through the cracks and gaps, and maybe me deciding to become attuned to the ambience.
I think differently than a lot of people. I see differently, and sometimes literally see things people don't. I don't think it's schizophrenia, or any other made up name psychiatry hangs on people it doesn't understand, but I'm afraid these things, and the occasional energy and enthusiasm that comes with the light and expansion, would be classified as such, plus mania and depression, and then chemical numbing. I don't want any of that, but all the cleverness St. Michel bestows won't protect me, only let me see what and why.
I already pay a lot, in terms of cost. I wear ineffability like a veil, always carry distance within me, and move so slowly and carefully to appear nonthreatening and dismissable. I'm afraid I can't afford to pay more, and always worry about what I have to lose, with no clear concept of what might be gained. And yet, whatever is at the heart of the rotating rings is patient, and probably kind, and will keep offering, hoping I'll say yes but never judging me for fear or hesitation. "What if?" is a terrible question, and one that's been with me for decades.
I'm terrified of being exceptional, and terrified that I'm squandering something huge by not. And it's getting harder to hold all this back. I think my cracks are starting to show.