Muck and Grime

 I read once that creativity and writing is often like a tap that hasn't been used in a while. You turn the tap only to have dirty, sandy water cough out of it. You have to let this muck and grime run until the water runs clean through the pipes and out the tap. So maybe I write some muck and grime. 

Okay let's go, let's write. 

My head is quite a murky place at the moment. Not as murky as it used to be. It used to be stagnant and putrid and growing things that smell chemical and sharp. People had started using it as a dumping ground. And when I say people, I mean me. I was thinking and believing awful things about myself that grew and grew until they turned into a sewer-gremlin that moved into my head full-time, paying rent in insults and fog that clogged up my senses. 

The sewer-gremlin became a constant, and I started to believe that it was the only friend I deserved. It took some pretty industrial-level purification to sort out that space. I had to call in the cavalry, which arrived in the shape of therapy and time and the changing of environments and all sorts of things to keep things fresh. 

The sewer-gremlin didn't disappear, nothing can vanish into thin air, not even thoughts. He just slinked back into a dark corner and went into hibernation. I built a sturdy cage for him to settle into and we've been managing  quite well. Every now and again he may rear his head, and maybe I intentionally wake him up and let him have the run of the place. Maybe he's comforting in a masochistic sort of way. 

He's been getting pretty comfortable recently and honestly, I might need him a bit. I might need to  the other monsters I've got skulking around in the basement of my mind and hang out with them for a while. Sadness is always a classic mate. Guilt sits retching into a bucket while Anger intermittently releases piping hot steam that may result in burns to anyone standing too close. 

One does need to air out the monsters every once in a while.

Let's raise a glass to Muck and Grime