Over the last few days, I've become interested in the way in which a person's narrative is stored in the body. As the days go by, I'm becoming more aware of the tension my body holds... the way my neck moves more easily to the right than to the left. The muscle I'm suddenly aware of just below my left ear, close to the base of my neck... my feet. Suddenly shrinking in size as the toes scrunch, and heels grab to the floor changing my gait to a heavy-footed slap on the ground...
My "lived" experience is becoming far more than the usual life is a challenge banter that we are all guilty of whilst hiding a truth far more sinister and sobering. My narrative is taking on its own form. My body is moving in a very different way now that it is informed with the feeling of anxiety made up of the uncertainties that befall me.
I question the paradox that is becoming my life and my body answers... far less mind over matter than body taking over...
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