In recent weeks, I have felt under enormous mental pressure and overwhelmed with the demands of my work responsibilities which I work long hours to fulfil.
In the undercurrent of my life is an emotional torrent, a fast flowing river of anguish over the my choice to suppress my gay sexual identity.
I expect my body to carry the load and I encourage it to alleviate my mental and emotional strife by pushing it to run as a means balancing physically the trauma of my life each day.
This week, I sensed that all was out of control and unmanageable. I made some decisons to work at the weekend, regardless of the consequesnces so that I could be alone with my thoughts, uninterrupted to get on top of the issues which are unresolved in my head.
By mid-week my throat began to hurt. It is my weak spot and an inflammation in my mouth imposed on me the rest that I would not take.
The rush of infection in my mouth brought me low and forced me to stop, forced me to rest, forced me to recognise that my body had had enough.
The severest of pains in the tender fleshy parts of my mouth, constricting my swallowing action with the added discomfort of pain being felt in my ear and on my tongue.
I have taken note of this moment when my body physical has asserted itself over my mind, and over my worrying, and over my plans to keep going.
I have sensed that I would be sensible to take note of my body’s power to take control of me, to bring me low to a point where I have had to succumb to rest.
The body is the temple of the mind, and of the soul, and at it’s centre is my heart which yearns to be seen and loved. I am in awe of its power to protect me from harm, receiving into its biology the medication which will heal and repair the fleshy wounds, soon restored, rested and ready to be more careful with the demands I place upon the physical frame which holds my life.